“Clear does not mean correct.”
“It has before.”
“And it has also failed. But you are scared that if you decide to trust me I can either prove your visions wrong, or lead you into a trap.”
The words land harder than intended. She stills. The truth is unavoidable now. Her visions are no longer consistent. Something has changed. I consider the possibility that the cause is not environmental.
I study her more carefully, tracing the pattern backward, her earlier hesitation, the shift in behavior, the introduction of highly specific outcomes that lack the usual fragmentation. The forest distorts. It does not refine. It does not produce clarity where none existed before.
This did. Which means?—
“You said it felt different,” I say slowly. “The vision.The one where I betray you.”
She frowns slightly. “Yes.”
“Not fragmented. Not overlapping. Singular.”
“Yes.”
“And complete.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“That’s not how your ability works.”
“You think something is interfering,” she says.
“I think something is influencing,” I correct.
“Same difference.”
“No,” I reply. “Interference disrupts. Influence directs. And whatever is directing yours wants you afraid of me.”
“And you think it’s external.”
“I think it’s not you.”
That matters more than I expected it to. She looks away briefly, toward the forest, toward anything that isn’t me, and in that moment I see something rare, uncertainty not weaponized, not controlled, simply present.
Then it’s gone.
“Very convenient for you. You could still be the cause,” she says.
“Possible,” I admit.
She turns back, searching my face again.
“And if you are?”
“Then you’ll need to decide whether your fear is justified or manipulated.”
Her lips press together.
“That’s not a helpful distinction.”
“It’s a necessary one. It's up to you.”