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That the very atoms that form us once originated from stars that shimmered in the cosmos eons ago.

For some reason I can’t quite understand, I find great comfort in that.

As I lower my gaze to the expanse of apartment buildings that now serve as my view, I half expect to see the familiar arrangement of the tarot garden that sprawled before my old window at Gray Wolf—The Magician,The High Priestess,andThe Wheel of Fortune, all melding into one another.

According to Mason, whom I saw when I flew to California to visit him and my mom, he, Oliver, and Finn all made it out, and I couldn’t be happier for them. Gray Wolf was never their destiny, just an interesting experience on the path of their lives.

As for the rest of us, something tells me we’ll never truly leave it behind.

Killian is recovering nicely, and to my surprise, he’s decided to stay in New York. Once a week, he, Braxton, and I meet for dinner at his favorite tavern that serves a nice ale and a decent slice of shepherd’s pie.

Killian claims that Elodie went back to Gray Wolf. That despite her fondness for Nash, she was never cut out to be anyone’s nineteenth-century version of a wife. And though it makes sense, I’m still not entirely sure how Killian could possibly know that.

Unless, of course, he’s been back there himself.

Yet another reason we’re determined to keep a close eye on him. As the adage goes:Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Yes, he saved my life, but with Killian, I can never truly know why.

Was it to save me from Arthur?

Or, more likely, was it to save Arthur from committing an act that would put a permanent end to his dream?

As it turns out, my destiny as a Timekeeper didn’t end with the destruction of the Antikythera Mechanism.

Apparently, Killian’s blade didn’t puncture as deeply as we thought. Just enough to stop Arthur, but not enough to finish him off.

And day by day this mark on my arm grows darker, more prominent, morphing into a much deeper shade of gold.

As long as Arthur Blackstone clings to the dream of reuniting his family and controlling time, it’ll be up to Braxton and me to stop him.

Just the other day, an envelope appeared in the mail, bearing no return address. Though I knew right away where it came from. It had the red wax seal with the Gray Wolf insignia embossed on its front.

Inside was an article about a mysterious object known as the Roman dodecahedron. According to the piece, it’s a small, hollow relic made of bronze or stone, dating back to the second and fourth centuries AD. They’d been found scattered across various parts of the Roman empire, and though their significance is unknown, some speculate…

I stopped reading there, seeing no need to go on.

Clearly, Arthur had found another way to pursue his goal, and it was just a matter of time before he’d come looking for us.

Braxton, awake now, comes up behind me. Circling his arms at my waist, he says, “My darling, are you okay?”

I lean back into his warmth, drawing strength from his steady presence, remembering Arthur’s words from what now feels like a lifetime ago.

We are always writing our own stories—all day, every day. It’s the ones you choose to play on repeat that determine your destiny.

“I’m more than okay. I’m happy,” I say, knowing in my heart that it’s true. Braxton and I are in this together, our destinies bound in a circle with no beginning or end. What’s not to be happy about?

Since Arthur stole my inheritance, our lives aren’t nearly as easy as we’d hoped. But we are smart, resourceful, and we’re making it work in the best way we can. Though the irony isn’t lost on me that I have Gray Wolf to thank for this life we’ve been given.

Still, sometimes, in these early predawn hours, I wake with a start—my skin covered in a panicky sweat, my heart beating much too fast, as my mind repeatedly reminds me that Arthur is out there, safely ensconced in his luxurious fortress, still chasing eternity.

While Braxton and I bide our time here, waiting for the day when he’ll snatch us off the street, put us into a hypnotic trance, and settle us back into his circular world, where all endings are nothing more than beginnings.

Someday, we’ll find a way to vanquish him once and for all.

I know in my heart that it’s true.

And yet, every now and then, a slim thread of doubt manages to creep its way in, just like it does now.

“What will we do?” I say, leaning deeper into Braxton’s embrace.

Pressing a kiss to my cheek, then the side of my neck, Braxton replies in the same way he always does.

“We’ll do the only thing we ever can do,” he says. “We’ll keep moving toward the light, ensuring the shadows always remain well behind us.”

The End