Page 100 of The Messengers of Magic

Chapter Seventy-One

P en’s eyes shot down instantly, his pulse hammering in his ears. He yanked the brim of his paperboy hat lower, hiding his face as he quickened his pace. Crossing the street, he veered away from his alternate self, who, thankfully didn’t even seem to notice him.

The moment they passed, he felt it, an invisible snap in the air, like static catching on skin. A crackling energy, sharp and electric, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Then…

A deafening crack of thunder tore across the sky, echoing off the buildings and through the fractured night.

Pen bolted, the stolen pots clattering inside his jacket as he sprinted through the strange town. He didn’t stop until he crashed through the Feather Thorn’s doors, barreled up the stairs, and into the attic apartment.

Adelaide spun from the window, her eyes widening. “Pen!” she gasped, taking in his winded, hunched-over form.

“Did you see him?” he asked between ragged breaths. “Did you see the man on the street?”

Her brows knitted together. “Man? What man?”

“The one who walked past me,” he said, straightening. “In the long coat. He looked, he looked—”

“No. I was watching the whole time. I didn’t see any man.”

“What do you mean you didn’t see him?”

“I didn’t see anyone,” she repeated, turning back toward the window. “I only saw you. You grabbed the pots, brilliant idea, by the way, and then ran back here. There was no one else.”

“What about the thunder?” he pressed, striding toward the window and scanning the empty street.

Adelaide chewed at her thumbnail, a worried look pulling at her face. She shook her head. “I didn’t hear any thunder, Pen.”

That couldn’t be right. He’d heard it. He’d felt it. A heavy silence stretched between them as he kept his eyes locked on the horizon, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“Tell me you can see this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

Adelaide stepped beside him, following his line of sight. At first there was only cloud and shadow, then the skyline rippled, and the illusion peeled back. Her lips parted. “What is that?”

Pen turned toward her, hope sparking in his eyes. “You see it too?” She gave a small nod, still staring. “Yes, I don’t understand.”

Where there should have been sky, there was something else . Something vast that had risen, gleaming spires, unfamiliar architecture, a skyline etched in steel.

“A city ?” Adelaide asked, her voice growing more unsteady by the second.

“Yes.” Pen didn’t take his eyes off it. “I think it’s another reality breaking through. The rip is spreading, not just through time, but through other realities now.” His expression darkened. “This is much worse than we thought.”

Adelaide tore her focus away and looked at Pen. “The man you saw, who was he?”

Pen swallowed hard. “It was me. An older me. The age I’d be now if I’d never been trapped.”

His eyes widened, as a thought struck, sharp and sudden.

“Oh, no,” he murmured. “It must have been our proximity. Two versions of me existing in the same space, too close. I thought he didn’t see me, but he must have.

That’s what caused the tear to expand. That boom, it wasn’t thunder, it was the rip growing wider.

” He turned fully to her, urgency flaring in his voice.

“Adelaide, we need to do the ritual now , before this spreads any further.”

But even as the words left his mouth, a deeper truth clenched in his chest. He couldn’t let her go through with this, not without knowing what it would cost. She deserved to know the truth, even if it was heartbreaking. He stepped closer and took her hands in his.

“There’s something I need to tell you first.”

Adelaide’s pulse kicked up. She saw the warning in his eyes before he even spoke, knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, and her stomach somersaulted.

“Adelaide, you need to understand something,” he said carefully. “When you destroy the watch, you destroy its entire timeline.”

The words landed hard, and she froze, air catching in her throat as if the wind had been knocked from her. It wasn’t the ground that gave way, it was everything she’d built inside. Each hope, each fragile belief that she’d dared to hold, collapsing inward like burned paper folding to ash.

“Does that mean… none of this would have existed?” she whispered. Tears pooled, clinging to her lashes, warping the world into a watery blur.

It didn’t make sense. How could this be happening now, just when she’d begun to feel whole again?

She’d dragged herself out of the grief, out of that hollow, aching place Jeff had left her in.

Pen had felt like a reward. A sign that the pain she’d gone through had meant something.

That surviving it had earned her something beautiful, Pen’s love.

But maybe it wasn’t a reward at all, maybe it had been a punishment.

The Bible called the Nephilim abominations, hunted by flood and fire, wiped from the Earth by God himself. What if Pen’s love was never meant to be a blessing? What if it was given only so it could be taken away? A consequence, a punishment of being born a creature of the in between.

She looked up just as Pen exhaled slowly, seemingly trying to find his words.

“Yes. If the watch never exists, I never get trapped in time. And if I never get trapped… we never meet.”

A sound tore from her lips, raw and broken. “No.” The first tear slipped free, and then a cascade. “No, that can’t be!” She shook her head, as if denying it would change the truth.

Pen reached for her, pulling her into his arms. “Rowland told me.”

She stiffened. Then, realization hit her like a knife to the ribs. “You’ve known this whole time?” She shoved him away, her voice breaking. “ And you didn’t tell me? ”

Pen’s expression crumbled. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So you lied?”

“I thought… if you didn’t know, it might be easier on you.” His voice was quiet, pleading. “And… I didn’t think you’d go through with it if you knew.”

Her breath came fast and uneven, thoughts crashing against each other.

“But I couldn’t let you do this without knowing first,” he finished, his voice raw. “You have the right to know everything, even if it’s hard. The right to walk into this knowing what it will truly cost.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, nor did they move. The silence was full, not empty, dragging with it the sacrifice they were being forced to make.

“How selfish do you think I am?” Adelaide’s voice rose, anger sharpening her words. “Did you really think I would let the whole world fall apart just so we could have a happily ever after?”

“No, of course not,” he said, his voice low. “But if it came down to choosing what I wanted instead of what was right…” He met her eyes. “I just know that if I had the power to destroy the watch, I don’t think I could do it. I don’t think I could lose you.”

Tears streamed down her face as she stepped toward him, and without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as his own tears fell silently against her hair.

“I will always love you,” she whispered against his chest. “No matter the time, no matter the place… I will find you.”

She looked up at him then, her blue eyes full of certainty, full of love, and the faith that he didn’t feel he deserved.

He couldn’t say it, he couldn’t tell her this truth. Couldn’t tell her that in a matter of minutes, she wouldn’t even remember him. Not his name, not his face, not the time they had shared. He couldn’t take that last lingering hope from her.

His heart ached in a way he had never known before. “You will always be my one true love, Adelaide,” he said, his voice thick.

He reached instinctively into his pocket for his lucky penny, needing the smooth, comforting surface on his fingertips.

He’d forgotten it was gone, left as a token for his wish.

He prayed in that moment that his wish would come true, that he wouldn’t forget her, that he could hold onto the memory of her even after the watch had been destroyed.

Without warning, a crack of thunder split the air, real and violent, shaking the walls and the floor. Adelaide flinched. This time, she did hear it.

Their heads snapped toward the window. Off in the distance, where the earth met the sky, a thin line of gold stretched across the mountains, the first light of dawn.

But the sun had only just set.

“No,” Pen breathed, the word clawing out of him. “It’s too soon. It can’t be dawn already. We need to do this now! ”

Adelaide was already moving. She opened the journal with shaking hands, flipping to the page they’d marked. Pen dropped to his knees beside her, pulling out his pocket knife. The blade bit into the old floor as he carved the four cardinal points, North, South, East, West, into the wood.

There was no time left for hesitation. No more space for their grief. No more questions, no more confessions. The time Pen once had in abundance was now nothing more than fleeting moments.

They both knew what had to be done would break them. Still, they moved forward, not to hold on, but to let go. For something greater than either of them.

Adelaide, followed close behind, placing the clay pots at the points he’d marked. Her movements were careful, as if she were trying to make peace with what was coming.

Together, one by one, they placed the herbs where they belonged.

Between North and East, lavender .

Between East and South, cinnamon .

Between South and West, chamomile .

Between West and North, cedar .

Pen pulled the leather bag from his pocket, his hands shaking as he walked over to Adelaide.

He lifted his hands, cupping her face, memorizing the feel of her skin, and he kissed her. Drinking her in one last time. It was deep, desperate, full of every unspoken word, every lost moment, every stolen second they had left. The world around them faded, the chaos, the fear, none of it mattered.