Free Across the Universe by Raine Winters

shelf and immersing herself amongst the records. Finally she pulls one out from the rest and unravels the scroll until its contents drop clear to the floor. The wooden spool clacks against the marble as her eyes scan over the text.
    “Curious. Very curious,” Elli says, descending the ladder at the same time as she reads.
    “What’ve you found?” I reply.
    Elli drops the parchment on the ground and kicks it across the room so that the length unwinds all the way down the tunnel. The words are handwritten in symbols I can’t comprehend, and as I appraise the squiggles and lines my brow becomes furrowed.
    “It’s the same language as that written on the shelves,” I say. “How is anyone supposed to understand any of this?”
    Elli drops to her knees and uses one finger to direct her down the lines of text, shuffling backward with her feet as she goes. “You might not be able to understand it, but Archivers can. And from the gist of it, I’m in the right era. It talks about Oman’s universe—”
    Her voice cuts off in the middle of her sentence and she leaps to her feet, blinking hard. I rush over to her and stare down at the part she was reading, but I achieve nothing more than going cross-eyed at the strange figures drawn on the page.
    “What’ve you found?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
    “It seems to say Oman’s universe wasn’t due for destruction for another seventy billion years.”
    “But that can’t be. Unless somehow the Seers were wrong, or someone managed to destroy the universe themselves.”
    Elli shakes her head. “That’s impossible. No one’s ever found a way to do that before.”
    The way she says it—like someone’s tried it in the past—makes me shiver, and I clench my arms around my body to steady myself. “This isn’t good. There has to be a way to save Oman.”
    “Don’t go getting ideas in your head. Once his universe started dying, all hope for him was lost. And as far as the scroll goes, like I said earlier, they’re not always accurate.”
    “And how often is it that they’re wrong?”
    Elli hesitates before admitting the truth. “About as often as universes die.”
    “So what do I do? How do I find out more about what’s going on?”
    She begins to wind up the scroll, shuffling her hands back and forth over one end to reel the parchment back in. “There’s one way I know of, but it’s risky. If you’re caught, they might throw you into the void, and me as well for just telling you about it.”
    “Tell me,” I say, my face set in determination.
    As she climbs the ladder and sets the scroll back on its shelf she replies, “Go find a Seer. Ask them yourselves. They’re bound by the laws of The House to tell you something whenever you ask a question, though it’s not always the answer you’re looking for.”
    I turn to stomp back down the tunnel, but Elli’s hand closing around my elbow stops me.
    “Amara—” she starts, but I cut her off.
    “Yes, I know. Be careful. Don’t get caught. I’ll do my best.”
    Elli narrows her gaze. “I was about to say, don’t get lost. The best way back is to follow me.”
    Then she strides ahead of me, leading me back the way we came.
    I know where the Seers’ chambers are, but I’ve never actually been there. Members of The House aren’t supposed to go unless summoned to hear a prophecy—one that often pertains to the death of a universe—and that rarely happens. The halls are bustling by the time I leave the Archives Room and I weave past bodies to get there, giving my best impression of innocence whenever someone catches my eye. Once I reach the right door I wait for the opportune moment—when the crowd closes around me and I all but disappear—and then I turn the knob and slip across the threshold.
    The Seeing Room is cast not in torchlight but in a thin blue glow that seeps from cracks in the walls. The room is empty but for a marble throne jutting from the center of the circular space.