Page 44 of Revert (The Royal Chronicles #4)
His gaze snapped up, fierce and achingly earnest. “You are, and not just because of all you mean to me, but for the new kingdom you and I have always fought for the chance of creating once the day finally comes for us to reign together. The king didn’t lie—he knows how dangerous you are to me, the lengths I would go for you. ”
His hand hovered between us for a moment, as if afraid to touch me with fingers still stained by the night’s horrors. He cradled my cheek, the touch hesitant, as though he believed himself unworthy of the contact, but could no longer resist his longing.
“You are my light, my reason to keep going. My hope is that someday the timeline we shape will yield not darkness, but a better world. Until then, I cling to the reassurance that though those I’ve been forced to pass judgement on fought for just causes, the actions I’ve taken in the king’s name were lawful.
And that one day, if I can go back far enough, I might undo every crime I’ve committed…
just as I was able to bring you back to me. ”
I didn’t know what to say, both touched and heartbroken that he had protected me for so long from the shadows, but I had no idea how to protect him in return.
For now, I wrapped my arms around him. He held me back, his trembling arms clutching me like a lifeline as he buried his face against my hair.
“At the time I felt I had no choice,” he murmured. “But now I wonder if anything could have been different if I’d found a way to act sooner.”
My hold tightened around him. “You did your best to do what is right while under the control of a corrupt man. I’m sure these horrors you’ve been forced to bear will one day inspire you to be a better king.
” I knew mere words wouldn’t enough to alleviate his guilt, but I hoped I could bring him some comfort.
He looked like he wanted to bask in my embrace a moment longer or say more, but the nature of our conversation was too dangerous to risk continuing here, lest it be overheard.
Castiel extended his hand, a silent invitation for me to accompany him.
I hesitated only for a heartbeat before slipping my fingers into his. Despite the blood on his soul from the crimes he had been forced to perform mere hours earlier, his touch was still steady and achingly gentle as his hand enfolded mine.
We moved through the castle like ghosts as Castiel led me along the hallways, keeping to the servants’ corridors and narrow passageways I didn’t recognize. Every turn he made was calculated, each step guiding us farther from the guards’ patrols and deeper into shadow.
“The king has increased security,” Castiel murmured. “I had to map the guards’ new rotations, in addition to locating where the chamber moved in this timeline.”
“How long did it take you to find it?”
“All night,” he said wearily. “Each shift causes it to reappear in a different location. The enchantment doesn’t only move it, but veils it, so you have to be actively looking for it to see it. I am still astonished how often you’ve found it, including the night…”
His voice faded, pain tightening his features, as if the memory of that night had carved its own wound into his heart. His hand tightened around mine, as if to assure himself I was here, alive beside him.
Eventually, we reached a narrow corridor that ended in a carved archway I didn’t recognize, unremarkable enough that at first glance it might have escaped my notice.
The air here thrummed with a faint, unearthly hum, the same pulse I recognized from the two instances I’d previously encountered it.
I felt my heartbeat quicken, remembering other times and the risks of finding what I was looking for.
Castiel reached beneath his collar and withdrew the pendant bearing the same sigil as before. He pressed it into the stone. The wall shimmered as faint runes flared to life, pulsing with soft light. After a moment’s pause, the stone split down the middle and slowly slid open.
The room beyond radiated that same quiet, ancient magic as before, soft and steady as breath. He held the door open for me. “No more secrets. You deserve to know everything.”
A wave of chill washed over us as we stepped inside.
The air shimmered faintly, charged with that strange stillness I was beginning to associate with time magic, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Sunlight glistened against the hourglass at the center, its sands suspended mid-fall.
Pale light pulsed through the runes etched into the floor and walls, faint as a heartbeat.
Castiel said nothing at first, and in the silence, I sensed he was waiting for my questions. But I had too many tumbling through my thoughts, impossible to grasp. He watched me patiently, giving me space to find my words, the place I wanted to begin.
When I remained uncertain, he crossed to the pedestal and laid his hand against the stone, his gaze fixed on the artifact.
“This chamber was built centuries ago,” he said at last. “Long before either of our kingdoms existed in their current form. The artifact is called the Mirror of Hours, and was created designed by the first Chronomancer of Thorndale—a mage who believed time should bend to the will of kings.”
The icy magic brushed my skin as I stepped closer. “How does it work?”
“It doesn’t move you through time like a portal, but rewinds the world itself—reverses the threads, resets the board. But it only works if the artifact remains intact, and the wielder holds a bloodright tied to Thorndale’s founding line.”
My gaze drifted to the hourglass. “How many times has he used it?”
Castiel exhaled, a sound that held both weariness and quiet grief. “More than I know. I’ve…lost count. Countless.”
Countless? My mind reeled. I tried to comprehend the idea I had lived dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of different lives, only to remember a handful.
A shadow passed across Castiel’s face. “With so many redos, I have long since lost count, especially the more the memories of the timelines I’ve retained blur together.
I can only remember the ones where I was present when the reversal occurred.
There have likely been others—times he reversed it without my knowledge.
I live in constant fear that he’ll one day take you from me again and reset the timeline before I can save you.
That terror is what keeps me bound to his will, no matter what horrors he demands of me. ”
The admission chilled me—but another question pressed close behind it, one I already half-feared the answer to. “For what purpose would he create so many timelines?” Though I could guess.
“Why else? Complete power. Perfect control. To mold Thorndale into the kingdom it is now. A masterpiece, built through hundreds of adjustments—choice after choice, deviation after deviation. Countless trials. Countless errors. All erased and rewritten until the king shaped the world exactly as he wanted it—a realm that bows unswervingly to him, that caters to his every whim and leaves him the legacy of Thorndale’s most powerful ruler. ”
I turned towards the hourglass, watching the sands shimmer in their suspended dance, glowing faintly, forever frozen mid-fall, like hearts that never learned to beat in time.
“So this is what’s been shaping everything,” I murmured. “Undoing lives as if they were nothing more than pieces on a board.”
Castiel nodded. “Anything that threatens that vision, he reverts. That’s how he’s maintained control for so long.
Despite the fear he commands, people have tried to resist. I’ve lost count of how many uprisings there have been, how many sparks of rebellion…
but he simply turns back time and extinguishes them before the fire can ever catch. ”
I’d never understood how everything in the court operated with such cold, mechanical perfection, but now it made perfect sense.
The unnerving precision of the court, the impossible way fate always seemed to tilt in his favor.
He hadn’t been lucky, but had simply been rewriting reality until it obeyed him.
A quiet ache bloomed in my chest. How many lives had I lived beneath that magic? How many rebellions had I fought for, how many secrets had I carried, only to have it all erased? I yearned to remember them, the versions of me the king had stolen.
As if sensing this pressing question, he beckoned me through a narrow stone arch into a second chamber, deeper still than the first. I followed.
The moment I crossed the threshold, the air changed—quieter and more reverent, as if we’d entered a cemetery of the forgotten past. The magic here felt heavier, almost older, like time itself had come to rest, exhausted from all its rewinding.
The vast room was circular, the high-domed ceiling vanishing into a darkness that shimmered with soft points of light, like stars scattered across a midnight sky, as if we’d stepped into the heavens themselves.
“This,” Castiel said softly, “is the Chamber of Timelines.”
I stared around in wonder. Delicate threads of light wove through the air, each a glowing tether between stars.
They drifted and spun, unfixed by gravity, weaving themselves into shifting constellations.
At first, they formed abstract shapes—curving ribbons, clusters of color—but as I looked closer, the images began to take form.
A burning city.
A coronation.
A rebellion crushed beneath blade and fire.
Scenes shifted and dissolved like breath on glass, only to form anew—one pattern collapsing into another again and again, the threads ever-changing. Each one was a version of Thorndale, each thread a choice that led to another deviation.