It's not uncommon for me to sink when good things are happening in my life, something I'm positive others experience, as well. That rewarding high ca… - Adam Silvera

I want more time, more lives, and this Rufus Emeterio has already accepted his fate. Maybe he's suicidal. Suicide can't be predicted specifically, but the death itself is still foreseen. If he is self-destructive, I shouldn't be around him- he might actually be the reason I'm about to clock out. But his photo clashes with that theory: he's smiling and he has welcoming eyes. I'll chat with him and, if I get a good vibe, he might be the kind of guy whose honesty will make me face myself. I'm going to reach out. There's nothing risky about saying hello.

I hear police sirens and keep pedaling. I hope something else is happening. I give it a few more minutes before I take a break, stopping between a McDonald's and a gas station. It's mad bright, maybe kneeling over here is stupid, but staying in plain sight might be a good hiding spot. I don't know, I'm not James Bond, I don't have some guidebook on how to hide from the bad guys. Shit, I'm the bad guy.

I drink every last drop of Reaper's Blood while looking up at the Crowned Dreamer. The elixir smells like burning bodies and tastes like iron and charcoal. The blood from the century phoenix, the golden-strand hydra, and the dead ghosts is heavy on my tongue like mud. My throat is burning and I'm this close to spitting out the rest, but I force myself to swallow it because this Reaper's Blood is game changing. I wasn't lucky enough to be born with powers- to be born a celestial. But now that I've absorbed these creature's abilities, the world will get to welcome me as their new champion- a one-of-a-kind, unkillable specter.