Page 1 of The Mist of Stars

PROLOGUE

GEMMA

There are an infinite number of choices we can make, paths we can follow. Each choice leads us down a path, and each one comes with consequences; some good, some bad. I know this for a fact. I’ve seen paths of futures—went through them—and those paths created massively bad consequences. My dad tried to warn me countless times that if I kept messing around with visions, I’d cause problems. And now, here I am, at the end of it, the world collapsing around me.

And I’m left with a choice: reset time and try to start over with the hope that it’ll be better, or let everything crumble around me.

The thing is, there’s no real choice. This world I’m in is falling apart. However, I know resetting time will catch up with all of us wherever we land. But I have to do it—I know I do. I just hope that, in the end, everything will be okay. That Aislin, Laylen, Alex, and Evan—everyone I know—will be okay.

It’s the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make, and I worry that wherever we’re heading, we might not be the same, that that will be the consequence. I also worry that the choice will catch up with me in some way.

It’s inevitable, really.

But again, it’s either die in this life or throw us all into a new one and hope for the best.

So, I do it. I reset time.

And as everything begins to fade away, I can feel myself going with it. I try to latch onto every memory that I can, every feeling that I have, every good moment. In the end, though, all I see are a few pieces of stars floating in the darkness, whispering to me that nothing in this new life will be the same, except for the stars continuing to haunt me.

1GEMMA

I’m floating in a sea of stars with my hand outstretched toward one in particular. It’s the smallest of the sparkling lights and illuminates with a violet glow that matches my eyes. I feel drawn to it, as if it’s whispering my name, begging me to connect with it.

I fly over to it. I’m not even sure how I’m flying; I just know that I am. I peer over at my back to see if I have wings. There is nothing there but streaks of silver that whisk into the darkness that funnels around the starlight.

I think I might be in the Afterlife …

No, that can’t be right. I think I’ve been there before, and it doesn’t look like this …

But how have I been there? I’ve never died before. And I’ve lived a typical keeper life where I go to school to be trained, spend time with my friends, get annoyed by my best friend’s brother, Alex, who is quite literally the most annoying person I’ve ever met. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about him right now. I need to stop.

But the more I try, the more thoughts of Alex and his stupid green eyes flood my brain. I mean, his eyes aren’tstupid. They’re super pretty, and every girl who attends Keeper Academy thinks so. So does Alex.

Again, with the Alex thoughts. I want to smack myself in the head. Instead, I reach for the star, which for some weird reason has begun to shine brighter.

What the heck?—

Bright light pierces the darkness and images illuminate through it.

Me sitting beside a lake with someone. Me walking through a field of flowers, again with the same person. Me dancing at the school dance with, once again, the same person. None of this makes sense since these things haven’t occurred. I also can’t see who the person is. They’re tall with short dark hair and broad shoulders, but their back is turned toward me …

But then one of the images shifts, and their face comes into focus.

I crinkle my nose at the green eyes staring at me through the image.

Alex? What kind of freak dream is this?—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The screech of my alarm clock yanks me out of dreamland. I’d be relieved, considering I was having a dream with Alex in it, but I’m so tired from staying up all night, studying information about stars.

It’s something I’ve been obsessed with for a while, mostly because I have always dreamed about them. The first one happened when I was like five, and it’s continued on over the years, always similar, with me floating in empty space amongst them, the smallest drawing me to it. I took a dream interpretation class, but that was no help. I don’t think the professor was an expert, despite what they said.

I sigh heavily as I blink the tiredness from my eyes.

“Gemma, are you up?” my mom shouts from downstairs.

I resist a sigh again. I love her to death, but I’m eighteen years old, and she thinks I still need to be woken up by her. Sometimes I wonder if she still sees me as a kid when, in reality, I’ll be graduating in a handful of months. After that, I’ll start working as a keeper, fighting off paranormal creatures that want to take over the world and all that stuff.