Page 64 of Charmed, I'm Sure
As if the world finally comes back around us, a fae child squeals, proclaiming themselves the winner and it snaps me out of this emotionally fueled conversation before he breaks down yet another wall.
He tries to hold me to him, not in a forceful way, but in the way you can tell he doesn’t want the moment to end.
As if by some divine miracle, the clock in the middle of the town square chimes midnight. I’ve never been moreelated to have a task to do than I am right now.
Miles’s nose scrunches as he looks around, confused as everyone drops what they are doing to funnel towards the end of town.
“What’s happening? Is the zombie apocalypse where all of you start eating brains?”
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes as I wrap my arm around his. “Come on Dog Boy. It’s time for the grave walk.”
His eyes brows shoot up. “Grave walk? You still haven’t sold me on this not being a zombie apocalypse.”
“Grave walking is us walking through the grave as we talk to our ancestors, inviting them to come spend time with us.”
The town is quiet as lanterns on long poles sway in the air. The light casts shadows along the ground as we walk in silence to the resting place of our ancestors and loved ones. The laughter and music from the festival has died off, leaving in its wake a hushed reverence. The only sounds are the click of shoes against the cobblestones and the crunch of leaves beneath boots as the front of the crowd steps onto the dirt-lined paths.
Miles slows beside me, the back of his hand brushing against mine, testing fate. I don’t pull away, no, instead I allow the rush of my power to meet him. To crackle between us. Something about this moment has me even wanting to reach out to him, have him hold me through it.
This year, this Samhain, it all feels different. Not just because Miles is here, but the air feels charged. As if there’s far more to this than just a fated mate situation.
We stop before a tall headstone, that at one point was beautiful granite carved with intricate designs. Ivora Sinclair was honored even in her death, still is. Fresh flowers line the base. She was important to many people. Not only as the witch coven leader, but as a founder of the town that protects us.
For a long time I only stare at the looping text adorning the stone. It feels as though she’s here with us, but that can’t be right. In all the years since her passing, nobody has seenher return. Some claim that she finally found her mate and chose to have the happiness she was robbed of.
Me, I just wish for one moment with her, one chance to ask why the dark twins are cursed. What happened all those years ago??
I’m quiet for a moment, hoping she hears my pleas. When she doesn’t, I look to Miles, who’s been quietly waiting for me. As he always does.
“I’ve always felt drawn to her, you know. Not because she was the coven leader, but because I always felt like I was another version of her. As if I can feel her story running through my veins. Maybe I’m just being ridiculous, but it never felt like a story to me. More like a lived truth.”
He doesn’t laugh or tease me like others would. No, he studies the headstone, then me. “It’s not ridiculous,” he whispers as he pulls something out from his pocket. The paper is folded in fours. I open it and let out a soft gasp. “It’s you being connected to this in a far bigger way than you imagined. It’s more than a story to you, because it was always meant to be.”
It’s too much. This can’t be true. The paper shakes in my hand as I look at what could easily be Miles and I in costumes. Why does it say Ivora and Elias along the top? What is he playing at?
“Miles, this isn’t funny. I told you something truthfully and very personal to me, and you want to pull this?” I shake the paper in front of me, but he doesn’t react like I expected. Not with guilt or even sympathy. He only stands there waiting, just as he always does.
“Why does this look like a drawing of the two of us in costumes? When did you even have time to get this drawn up? Why aren’t you responding to anything I ask?”
I’m spiraling, and I know it, but this isn’t funny. I know that he saw Elora, and I’m sure she filled his head with all of her visions, but this is going too far.
He steps closer to me, pulling at the drawing gently until he is holding it. He holds his phone next to the drawing. There on his screen is an old portfolio with the exact samedrawings in it. Drawings that are dated 1680.
“These drawings aren’t of us, Bellamy. They are drawings of Ivora and Elias, her mate. Someone in your coven drew them a couple of decades after this town was founded.”
“What are you saying, Miles?” I whisper as I stare into his eyes.
He reaches up slowly, giving me time to pull away. But I don’t. Not even when his thumb swipes along my cheek, or even when he runs his fingers down my hair.
“All I’m saying is, this is far bigger than the two of us, our fate, and the fears that we have. We just have to believe in ourselves and each other.”
I shake my head frantically as I take a step back. He doesn’t know what he’s asking, what he’s signing up for. I can’t let him give up his happiness for a short time with me. It means nothing that we look like Ivora and Elias. Just a coincidence and nothing more. He wants it to mean something.
“You don’t know what you are asking for,” I murmur as I continue to take steps back.
“I do, and I will…”
The clock tower chimes, meaning it’s officially midnight. I’ve never been more thankful for the time than I am right now. I can leave, hide behind my responsibilities as a witch.