Page 97 of The Messengers of Magic

Chapter Sixty-Nine

I t wasn’t the sun breaking through the windows that woke Adelaide the next morning, but the cold, sharp, biting chill that had swallowed up the last bit of warmth from the dying fire.

She rolled over, instinctively reaching for Pen, but her hand met only the hard wooden floor. A dull ache pulsed along her spine from the night spent sleeping there. They hadn’t made it to the bed, but being wrapped up in Pen was all she’d needed for comfort then.

The air felt different. A stale tang of cigarette smoke clung to the room, unfamiliar and out of place. A sudden fear surged through her, her pulse hammering in her veins. Had it happened? Had the other reality slipped past the edge of town and stolen Pen away from her?

She sat up fast, scanning the small space.

Empty.

Throwing off the blanket, she pulled on her clothes, barely registering the stiffness in her limbs as she hurried to the bathroom, hope clashing against dread. Pressing a hand against the door, she knocked.

No answer.

She pushed it open, but still she found nothing, only the stillness of an undisturbed room and an orb spider that had spun a web in the corner.

Panic clawed at her throat, mixing with the sourness of too much wine from the night before. She leaned against the sink, forcing herself to breathe.

“Is anything different?” she whispered, scanning the space with careful eyes.

But everything was just as she’d left it the day she moved out. Nothing had changed. Nothing had been added or erased. It seemed for now, the rip hadn’t made it this far.

Her breath hitched. Was she losing her mind? Had any of it been real?

She was on the verge of questioning her own sanity when footsteps creaked across the front porch. She rushed to the window, peeked outside, and a wave of relief flooded over her.

Pen. With an armful of firewood stacked against his chest, his coat peppered with sawdust.

She threw the door open before he could reach for the handle, and a gust of air followed him in, warm and unsettling against her skin, making her nerves stand on edge.

“Good morning,” Pen greeted cheerfully, moving past her to the fireplace. He knelt and stacked the wood, brushing stray bits of bark from his sleeves.

“Not sure I needed to grab this, though,” he mused, glancing over his shoulder at her with a crooked smile. “Feels like it’s heating up outside. Strange how it’s still so cold in here.”

Adelaide knew why. The other reality was creeping toward them like an advancing tide. But she didn’t want to start their day with the impending doom that waited just beyond sight.

“These stone cabins hold the cold,” she said instead, offering a small smile.

Pen returned it, but the spark was gone from his eyes. He knew the truth too, but neither wanted to be the first to admit it, to speak that truth out loud. Not while time still allowed them to pretend.

“How long have you been up?” she asked, stepping into the small kitchenette.

“A while now,” he answered, pulling off his jacket.

She reached into the basket and pulled out the Tupperware container she’d taken the night before. “Now you get to see what I snuck into the basket,” she told him, opening the lid with a pop. The rich scent of freshly ground coffee filled the air.

Pen grinned. “Now that’s my girl,” he said, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist as she scooped the coffee into the filter and set the pot to brew.

She turned in his embrace, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him into a slow, lingering kiss. She could have melted into him, lost herself in the warmth of his touch, the steady beat of his heart against hers. If she let herself, she might never let go.

But as their lips parted, the weight of the day ahead crashed down on her like that tide breaking against the shore. She pulled away and moved her attention back to the steady drip of the coffee pot, as if it could hold back the inevitable.

“When should we go back to the Feather Thorn?” she asked, knowing they couldn’t avoid the conversation much longer.

“Not until close to dark,” Pen said. “We don’t know how far the rip has progressed, but judging by the shift in the weather, I fear it’s spreading, whether you’re there or not.” Concern darkened his features.

“I think you’re right,” she admitted, trying to mask her exhaustion with a smile. But Pen wouldn’t be fooled.

“Listen,” he said, catching her hand and pulling her back toward him. “This is what we’re going to do today. We’re going to spend time together, like it’s just a normal day, like we’re any other couple. And then, just before dusk, we’ll figure out our plan. Okay?”

He kissed her again, as if sealing the promise.

When the coffee was ready, they carried their mugs to the fire and curled up on their makeshift bed, sitting in comfortable silence as they drank.

Adelaide traced the rim of her mug and looked up.

“I have an idea,” she said. “There’s a place Carolyn used to take me when I was young, just beyond the woods behind the cabin.

She called it Fairy Grove. There’s a stone there, if you whisper to it, they say, it listens.

Maybe we should try it, wish on the wishing stone, for luck. ”

Pen smiled, warmth returning to his eyes. “Sounds like something out of a fairy tale, but I think that sounds like the perfect way to spend the afternoon.”

Adelaide tilted her head. “It’s still hours until the afternoon. What are we going to do until then?”

As soon as the words left her lips, Pen was kissing them away, and she knew exactly what they would be doing.

But the kiss wasn’t full of desire or heat; it was sorrowful and tender. It felt deliberate, steeped in something unspoken. Like he wasn’t just kissing her, but trying to hold on, to carve the moment into memory, as if this might be the last time he’d ever get the chance.

She pulled back, just a fraction, enough to search his face. “Is everything okay?”

His gaze met hers, the blue of his eyes darker than she remembered, shadowed with something he was trying to mask.

“What is it?” she asked again, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek, grazing the faint stubble there.

“Nothing,” he said, forcing a small smile. “I just wish we could have met in a different way.”

She huffed a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “If we had, you’d be an old man by now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, playing along. “Would you still have said yes if I’d asked you out, old man and all?”

She shrugged. “Depends. Would you have looked this dashing as an old man?”

That earned her a real laugh, the tension in his shoulders visibly softening.

She leaned in again, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

This kiss was different. The hesitation melted away, and they lost themselves in it, then in each other.

They moved together as they had the night before, as if the space between them had grown unbearable, knowing the morning light could not last forever.

The sun had climbed higher by the time they surfaced, limbs tangled in the blankets, wrapped in the heat of one another, the fire now a faint ember.

Adelaide lay nestled against his chest, her fingers lazily tracing shapes along his arm. “If we don’t move soon, we’ll fall asleep and miss the whole solstice thing tonight,” she murmured. “Let’s go for that walk now.”

“You’re probably right,” he teased, running his thumb across her jawline before pulling her into one last, lingering kiss.

She pulled away, arching a brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to tire me out, Mr. Turner.”

He grinned. “And if I was?”

She let out a playful scoff as she sat up, the blanket slipping off her shoulders. “Not going to happen. Get your arse off the floor and get dressed,” she waggled a mock-stern finger at him.

With an exaggerated groan, he sat up and began pulling on his clothes.

“I promise,” she said, lacing up her trainers, “tomorrow we can stay in bed all day in the flat. And the next day. And the next. Until you’re sick of me.”

The teasing warmth in his expression faded, replaced by something softer, sadder. He reached for her hand. “I could never tire of you, my sweet Adelaide,” he murmured.

Her heart skipped at the words, not just because it was something she had longed to hear, but because she believed him. He meant it, every word.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the future looked brighter.

They were only hours away from destroying the watch, only hours away from being done with this once and for all. If John Dee’s predictions were right, the rip would cease to exist, and the world would settle back into place.

But what if he hadn’t been right? What if the fracture didn’t heal and the world didn’t right itself?

What if the damage was already done, if the other reality had taken hold, weaving itself into their existence too tightly to be unraveled? Would the ritual still work? Would any of it?

There were no answers, no promises, only the looming unknown, with no certainty until they stepped into the moment that would decide everything.

All she could do was hope.

“Okay, ready to go?” Pen’s voice nudged her from her thoughts.

She blinked, pushing the questions aside, looked up at him and smiled. “Yes.”

She walked to the door and swung it open. A warm summer breeze rushed past her, spilling into the cool cabin.

As they stepped outside, though, something shifted in the air, a wrongness she hadn’t noticed before.

It was subtle, a single out-of-tune note in an otherwise perfect song.

A shimmer of something threading through the trees, the same wrongness that had blanketed the town after everything had changed. The tear was getting closer.

Pen looked up, and Adelaide’s gaze followed skyward. The blue above was thickening to something almost purple, and faint stars had begun to form, too early, too wrong, pinpricks in a painted veil.

“It’s happening,” she said, head still tilted toward the heavens.

“It is,” Pen murmured, slipping his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together.

She held on tighter, as if pressure alone could anchor them in what was real.

“There’s nothing we can do about any of this until tonight,” he added, his voice steady.

“So let’s just try to enjoy the beautiful, warm day while we still can. ”

“You’re absolutely right,” she agreed. “Follow me.”

She led him through Carolyn’s field, where golden wheatgrass bowed in the breeze and wildflowers tilted their faces toward the strange sky. At the edge of the woods, a massive oak tree stood, its sprawling branches creating a natural archway, a tunnel of shade, a doorway into another world.

“This way,” she called over her shoulder.

She stepped through first, the air instantly cooler, the dense canopy overhead allowing only patches of dappled light to spill onto the forest floor.

Pine needles softened the path bordered by lush ferns, and the air smelled of damp earth, pine, and the faint, familiar scent of fall leaves.

The forest hadn’t changed. Not yet. It welcomed her like an old friend.

When the trail reached a clearing, the trees parted just enough to let a column of golden light spill onto the earth. At the center of it, bathed in the glow as if on a stage, was a large rock, covered in moss.

“Here it is, Big Rock,” Adelaide said with a nostalgic smile. “Or as Carolyn calls it, Fairy Grove. She always told me this was a wishing stone. Like a well, but instead of tossing in a coin, you make an offering and a wish.”

They stepped onto the soft, moss-covered ground, a plush carpet beneath their feet.

Trinkets dotted the floor, offerings from other years: a ceramic mug, smooth stones and crystals, buttons, a thimble, a tiny glass flower.

And nestled into a deep groove in the rock’s surface was a small heart-shaped necklace.

“Look,” she said, pointing to it. “I put that there when I was little.”

Pen turned to her, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What did you wish for?”

She hesitated, then smiled. “Normally, I wouldn’t be able to tell you, or it wouldn’t come true. But seeing as it already has, I suppose it’s safe.”

She rose onto her tiptoes, lips brushing his ear. “You.” Then she kissed him.

It was slow and sure, full of things she hadn’t yet had the courage to say and might never get another chance to. When she pulled away, she let out a soft, breathless laugh, and placed her palm to his chest.

“This,” she whispered. “This is what I wished for.”

Pen’s expression softened, and for a moment, the world outside the forest didn’t exist.

“Alright,” she said, breaking the spell, “now the question is, do you have something to give the stone? Something to make a wish with?”

Pen stood still for only a second before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a shiny penny and stepped up to the rock.

Adelaide watched as he stared at the coin in his palm, lips moving silently, then he placed it gently onto the mossy surface and stepped back.

“What about you?” he asked. “Are you going to make a wish?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Nah. Mine already came true. Best not to push my luck.”