Chapter 2: A Glimpse of Destiny
The moon hung high in the midnight sky, its pale glow casting a cool, silver sheen over the quiet streets. The world seemed still, wrapped in a blanket of darkness, yet inside the house, the tension between the siblings was palpable. Don sat at his desk, the soft hum of the nearby streetlight the only sound as he scrolled through his phone, his mind sharp, his thoughts far away.
He could feel the pressure of his gift, a power that was both a blessing and a curse. Being able to see thirty minutes into the future was like having a cheat code to the world. But, it wasn't just about knowing what was going to happen—it was about controlling it. His power allowed him to anticipate the movements of others, to outsmart them before they even realized what was going on. The rush of knowing what was going to happen before it happened made him feel untouchable, invincible, almost godlike. But it wasn't enough.
What use was a power that only showed the future in such small glimpses? Thirty minutes was nothing. In the grand scheme of things, it was a mere fraction of time, a blip in an endless sea of possibilities. And yet, he knew that he could use it to rise above everyone. He could manipulate the future like a puppet, pulling the strings to make sure he was always one step ahead.
The door creaked open, pulling Don from his thoughts. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Lila's presence was always soft, as though she were trying to make herself invisible. He felt her standing there in the doorway, hesitating.
"What do you want?" Don muttered, his tone cold, his eyes still fixed on the glowing screen in his hand.
Lila stepped forward, holding something in her hand. "It's... for you," she said, her voice tentative. "I thought you might like it."
He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed, but the sight of what she was holding caught his attention. It was a small, worn-out book—a journal, its leather cover cracked and faded. The title, embossed in gold but now barely visible, read "The Path of the Untouched."
Don raised an eyebrow. "You brought me a book? You know I don't have time for that kind of crap."
Lila bit her lip but remained silent. She stepped closer, placing the book down on his desk. "It's not just any book, Don. It's... it's something that could help you. Help you understand the world better. You always seem so distant, so angry. I thought you might find something here that could... make you feel better."
He stared at the book, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Lila's constant attempts to reach out were always irritating. She was naive, too soft to understand the weight of what he was carrying, but this... this was different. There was a certain seriousness in her voice, something earnest.
"I don't need your help," Don muttered, but a part of him felt the faintest stir of curiosity. He picked the book up, flipping through its pages without much care. As his eyes scanned the old, yellowed pages, his brow furrowed. The text wasn't written in a traditional way—each chapter seemed like a lesson, a path to self-understanding. There were references to philosophy, to manipulation, to power, but there was something darker underneath. Something that made his pulse quicken.
"Where did you find this?" Don asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.
Lila hesitated, her hands wringing together. "I... I found it at a secondhand bookstore a while ago. I thought you might want it."
Don didn't respond. His fingers traced the edges of the book, his mind working as he absorbed the strange energy emanating from the pages. It was as if the book knew him—understood him in a way that no one else did. His fingertips brushed against a particular page, and the text seemed to shift before his eyes. The words blurred, then realigned themselves, as though responding to his thoughts.
"The path to power is always one of sacrifice. The true master of time must not just see the future, but control it. And in controlling time, one controls all."
A shiver ran down his spine. The words weren't just a message; they were a warning. A promise.
"I don't need power," Don muttered, but the words didn't feel as true as they once did. The more he read, the more the text pulled him in. The more he felt something deep within himself stir, a hunger for something greater. His eyes burned with the need to understand.
"I think you do," Lila said softly, her voice cutting through his thoughts. "I think you're just afraid to admit it. You've always been so... alone. You think you're better than everyone else, but deep down, you're just hiding. Hiding from what you really want."
Don slammed the book shut, startling Lila. His heart raced, the rush of power mingling with a bitter knot of anger. "You don't know anything about me," he snapped. "You don't know what I'm capable of."
Lila stepped back, hurt flashing across her face, but she didn't leave. She was like a ghost in his life, always lingering, always trying to understand.
"Don... please," she whispered. "I just want to help. I don't want you to be alone anymore."
But Don didn't hear her. His mind was already elsewhere, fixated on the strange sensation that had settled in his chest. A new possibility had opened up before him, one he couldn't ignore. The power to control time—that was what he needed. Not just thirty minutes. He needed to be free of the constraints of time, to take control of his destiny completely.
His eyes returned to the book in his hands, and as his fingers brushed against its pages again, the words seemed to burn brighter.
"To control time is to control destiny itself. But be warned: not all sacrifices are made willingly. Not all consequences are understood."
The weight of those words sank deep into his soul. Don's breath caught in his throat.
A vision flashed before his eyes—a future he had never seen before. His power, his gift, stretched beyond the boundaries of the thirty-minute window. He could see the very fabric of time unraveling, a vast ocean of possibilities, each one waiting to be molded to his will. But something was wrong. There was something lurking in the shadows, something dark and powerful, watching him.
He shook the thought away, dismissing it as a fleeting vision. He had a plan, and nothing would stop him. He would rise above them all, even if it meant losing everything.
But the moment of doubt lingered, like an echo in the back of his mind.
Lila watched him, sensing the change in him. "Don, you... you're not listening. This isn't the way."
But Don wasn't listening anymore. He was already seeing it—the future—and it was his to shape.
"Get out, Lila," he said coldly, his voice like ice. "You've said enough."
Lila hesitated, her heart aching at the sight of her brother's cold detachment. She wanted to say more, to convince him that there was still time to change. But she knew, deep down, that it was already too late.
With a heavy heart, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Don sat in silence for a long while, the book still open on his desk, its dark promise hanging in the air. His fingers traced the text again, his mind racing. The future was his—he could feel it, like a storm on the horizon. He just needed to take the first step.
And so, he began to plot. To prepare.
The world would be his.
---
At school the next day, Don moved like a shadow through the halls. He could already see the next thirty minutes unfolding in his mind—the way the students would move, the way they would speak. The future was a map, and he was the one holding the pen.
Kyle, the bully, tried to approach him again, a sneer on his face. Don didn't even look up as Kyle moved in, his body language telling him exactly what was about to happen.
In that moment, Don smiled. The future was his, and there was nothing Kyle—or anyone—could do to stop him.