Page 49 of The Messengers of Magic

The Hidden Journal of John Dee

T he ritual is complete. We performed every step with precision, moving in harmony with the celestial alignments as instructed. The planets shifted as planned, the Astral Synchronum chimed softly in response, and then gradually fell silent, its hands lying dormant.

Yet, as the final act passed, there was no rush of divine energy, no sudden burst of clarity.

The light that had blazed so brightly during our first ritual did not show itself.

However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had merely applied a bandage to a wound that runs much deeper than we understand.

Giordano, ever the optimist, seems content with the outcome. He believes we have done what needed to be done, that the reality will settle, and the rip in time is now mended. I envy his conviction, but an unease still gnaws at me.

I have sent word to Edward Kelley. I must know if we succeeded.

If there is even the slightest chance we missed something in our calculations, I fear the rip will only grow wider, dragging us further into a reality that does not belong to us.

I will not rest until I can confirm, with divine guidance, whether we have truly repaired the tear or if our work was in vain.

Until then, I will wait. There is nothing more to be done for now. But in my heart, I fear that this is not over, that the changes will not stop, and that we have not yet averted the crisis we have unwittingly set in motion.