Page 94 of The Messengers of Magic

She turned. The hardware store, Ewan’s shop, was gone, replaced by an old stone church, its roof sagging under a carpet of moss, the walls cracked and covered in lichen.

Had Ewan vanished too? It was then she thought of Camie, Camie and the Common Blue.

Had they been swallowed up by this new reality too?

Or maybe she and Pen had simply fallen all the way through? Was this what it meant to be on the other side of the tear?

In front of her, another building appeared, one that hadn’t been there minutes ago.

Her stomach twisted with worry, and she tore back to the Feather Thorn, shoes thudding over cobbles, heart pounding harder with each step.

Please still be there. Please still be there.

She burst through the Feather Thorn’s door and up the stairwell into the flat.

And there he was, still there, waiting for her.

“How did it go?” he asked, eagerness filling his voice.

“Not good,” she replied, trying to catch her breath as she collapsed onto the bed, biting at her thumbnail. From what she could tell, this room was the only part of their old world that remained. “It’s gone. All of it.”

“What do you mean?” Pen asked, frowning. “I saw you walk into the Purple Thorn.” He sat beside her.

“That’s just it,” she said, looking over at him. “It looked like the apothecary, but it wasn’t the one I knew, and it wasn’t my Carolyn. She didn’t even recognize me, Pen. It was like I was a stranger to her.” Adelaide’s eyes blurred with tears, the ache rising too fast to swallow.

Pen’s brows knit together, confusion flickering across his face, but then he reached for her, gently taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing her knuckle. “Are you sure?”

“She called the town Leymark.” She turned to him.

“I did this,” she whispered, the guilt rising to her throat.

“In my rush to free you, I didn’t stop to think what touching the watch might do.

” Her voice cracked as she dropped her face into her hands.

“I was selfish. I just wanted you here with me.”

Pen brushed a tear from her cheek and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. She let herself sink into the warmth of him, his embrace a shelter from the biting reality, but it was temporary. They didn’t have time for all of this, not now; they needed answers.

“We have to go to Carolyn’s,” Pen said, his voice steady now. “If Rowland’s out of the loop, maybe he knows something that can help us.”

Adelaide nodded.

Pen let out a sharp whistle, and Frankie darted out from a corner, his ears perked. “We’d better take him with us.” He scooped the little fox into his arms as they headed for the door.

As they moved through what used to be the bookshop, Pen stuck his arm out, stopping Adelaide before she stepped into view of the man who was still hammering away at the anvil. “We don’t know how these people might react to us,” Pen whispered, peeking around the corner.

“I don’t think he can see us,” Adelaide said. “When I came down earlier, he looked right at me, but it was like I wasn’t even there.”

“But Carolyn saw you?” Pen asked.

“Yes, but maybe that’s because she knew me in another reality. This guy,” she nodded toward the metalsmith, “he’s never seen me before. I don’t know, Pen. I’m as clueless about the rules of this as you are.”

They slipped past the man and stepped outside.

As they walked in front of the Feather Thorn, Adelaide saw Pen look back, his eyes wide as they roamed around.

She’d almost forgotten that he hadn’t been outside in nearly thirty years.

How strange it must be to feel the breeze on his skin again and the sun on his face.

As they made their way toward the alley, she sent up a silent prayer: Let it be there.

Let just one thing still be the same . She hadn’t seen a single vehicle on the streets, and she wondered if they even existed in this timeline.

Her chest squeezed when she rounded the corner and spotted her car, still there.

Her battered little Volkswagen Golf was exactly where she left it yesterday.

As they drove in silence toward Carolyn’s, Adelaide noticed the road signs had changed, along with parts of the landscape. The world was slowly rewriting itself, trees where there had been meadows, hills where there had been farms.

She turned to say something to Pen about it, but stopped.

He was studying the dashboard, fingers hovering over the different knobs, tracing the dials to the radio.

She’d almost forgotten that this was all new to him.

He hadn’t been beyond those bookshop walls since 1955.

But this wasn’t the world she’d hoped to show him; it was as new and strange to her as it was to him.

Relief washed over her when they pulled into Carolyn’s driveway. The house stood just as it always had, the garage door closed, flower beds wild and full.

“Things look the same,” she said, reassuring Pen as much as herself.

“Maybe the rip has only affected the center of town where the watch is,” Pen suggested.

“Let’s hope so,” she said.

At the front door she lifted the pot with a dead chrysanthemum. The key was still tucked beneath, another small mercy.

Inside, the house exhaled the same scent as yesterday, lavender oil, sun-warmed wood, and the faintest trace of cinnamon. Nothing seemed out of place or changed in any way.

“Follow me,” she instructed, heading toward the stairs. Pen set Frankie down, removed his wingtips, and followed her up.

“One second,” she said, reaching behind the beam and pulling the key free of its hiding spot. She paused for a moment, wondering what they would find when she unlocked the door. Would it be the same, or would Rowland be there, whole and present in this new reality?

Holding her breath, she turned the key. The door gave a soft groan as it opened. The room was exactly the same. Stacks of books, curled notes, a mess with meaning, but no Rowland.

“Well,” she said, turning back to face Pen. “I guess it didn’t work.”

But he wasn’t looking at her. He was smiling. Not vaguely, not politely, but a full, wide, almost incredulous smile, like he’d just seen the impossible.

Adelaide followed his gaze, but there was nothing there. Nothing she could see. “Pen? What are you looking at?”

Pen tore his eyes away and looked at her, almost in disbelief. “Can’t you see him?”

“Who?”

“Rowland.”