"Would I lie to you?"

Sorrel stared up at the Haven- her Haven, though the very concept of such a thing made her head spin.  The face it (or was it she?) wore was almost too familiar.  This wasn’t like looking at a photo or into a mirror, instead inspiring the feeling that she was staring at a partially painted sculpture of herself.  An artist’s rendition, one that moved and spoke with a gravity that only something made of marble had any right to achieve.  That part, she knew, was inaccurate.

The creature turned to look at her, face shifting almost imperceptibly as it refreshed the memory of its old features.  Sorrel had to force herself to breathe.

After a moment, it spoke.  “What do you want?”

“I need to ask you something.”

“Do you really?”  It tilted its head, causing its sculpted ‘hair’ to start flowing down its face.  “I don’t remember any need to seek guidance from something as monstrous as a Haven.”

“And I don’t remember being such an ass.”  Sorrel groaned.  “Does that happen in the future?  Do I win the interstellar award for hardest person to talk to?”

The Haven simply looked at her.  An unreadable emotion flashed behind its eyes.

“Geez, fine.  I’ll just go ahead and ask.”  She took a deep breath, forcing the words out before she could think about what she was saying.  “Do I get a happy ending?”

“A happy ending…”  It turned away.  It stayed silent for a long time, or at least long enough to convince Sorrel it wasn’t going to finish the thought.  Eventually, though, it spoke.  “How would you define ‘happy’?”

“You’re me, aren’t you?  Don’t you know?”

“I’m a version of you, yes.  But that doesn’t mean we have to agree.”  It rubbed its left arm, tracing the golden spirals that took the place of scars.  “I’ve had a long time to think about things.”

“Fine then.  What are some of the things you’ve thought so hard about?  Like, do I do anything cool?”

The Haven snapped back to face her, its gaze frigid as empty space.  “Are you asking me to tell you your future?”

“Well…” Sorrel paused for a moment, weighing her options.  As she fought to maintain eye contact, she realized that there was only one answer.  If this Haven really was her, it would understand.

“Well?”

“Yes.”  She stared into the icy void of its eyes.  “I want to know how I die.”

The Haven blinked once, twice.  Its stony face revealed nothing, but Sorrel thought she saw the ghost of a smirk on its lips.  “I thought so.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “You thought so, huh?  Didn’t use any of that… oh, what’s it called… foreknowledge of this exact event?”

“Well, it’s true I have a great memory for experiences like these.  They give me incredible respect for the patience of everyone who’s ever had to deal with us.”

A frustrated sound choked in the back of Sorrel’s throat.  “Well, either give me an answer, or don’t.  If you already know which it’s gonna be, there’s no reason to leave me hanging.”

“Isn’t there?”  The Haven’s gaze slid off of her and into the night sky.  Sorrel’s instinctively followed, finding the light of the stars clean and radiant against their inky canvas.  Beautiful as they were, the shapes they formed were alien to her.  “Most people don’t get the chance to ask these kinds of questions, you know.  Don’t you want to savor the moment?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

The Haven sighed.  “If you really want to know… I don’t remember this conversation.  Well, not exactly.  I know it happens, but that’s about all I know.  The details are… fuzzy.”

That’s not what I asked, Sorrel thought.  She knew it could tell.

“You have as good a chance at guessing how this turns out as I do.  Happens whenever I talk to you, in fact.  I think it’s a feature, rather than a bug.”

“You’ve forgotten how it happens, haven’t you.”

There was that look in its eyes again, swallowing the stars in its depths.  “No… I really haven’t.”

Sorrel had never really been on this side of her own head, but she begrudgingly recognized what was going on.  If this wasn’t the true continuation of whatever essence she was made of, it was a damned good copy.  That didn’t help her unease.  “You aren’t exactly giving me a lot of hope for the future.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t lead you on like that.”  It turned back to her, almost smirking again.  “You don’t exactly lead a low-risk life, do you?  Even with an artificer’s luck, you surely can’t expect to wiggle out of everything.”

Son of a- “What, so I get hit by a stray asteroid?  I see how it is.”  Sorrel harrumphed and started to march away.  “Don’t worry about me asking for any more ways to wiggle out of fate.”

She could still feel its eyes on her back, even the ones it kept tastefully hidden.  After a few steps, she turned back to face it.  “What?”

Its face was truly a mask now, all stone and starlight.  “I can’t leave you hopeless, that isn’t right.”

“Not right for me, or not right for the timeline?”

“Not right for me.  That is to say, us.  You will do great things, but you will do them because you believe you can change things for the better.”  It closed its eyes and sighed.  “Not out of obligation to the timeline.”

“So that means I succeed, huh?  That’s good to know.”  She took a breath of her own.  “But what about the ending?”

It felt like an eternity before the Haven opened its eyes again.  “You live much longer than you’re expecting, Sorrel.  And it’s a good life, overall.  Truly.”

“Truly, huh?  You’re sure?”

It blinked, coiling.  “Would I lie to you?”

With that, it sprang into the air, its pale green robe flapping behind it.  Sorrel watched as it disappeared into the night, but her thoughts lingered on what it had said.

“Yes,” she muttered, “I think I would.”