After the fire, the ashes hold the secrets of what once was.
Aftermath
The drive back was a silent one, with Des's focus on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. His eyes were sharp but distant, the tension in his shoulders telling me he was still processing everything that had just happened.
When we reached home, he barely looked at me as I stepped out, muttering a quick, "I'll check on Alice," before driving away.
The quiet of the house felt like a stark contrast to the chaos we'd just left behind, the echoes of magic still thrumming in the air around me, like the last shreds of a storm.
I walked through the hall, each step weighted with exhaustion and the raw edge of adrenaline that still coiled within me. The living room called to me, its familiar warmth and comfortable disarray offering a sanctuary from everything that had happened.
"Berti," I said, my voice low but demanding as I dropped into the armchair by the fireplace. The room was dim, the moonlight filtering through the curtains and painting shadows across the floor. "Make me a drink. Something strong."
Berti looked up at me surprised.
"You sure you need it?" he asked, taking a few deliberate steps forward. His magic crackled lightly, a soft hum in the air, as if his body was still too full of power, too alive with it.
"Trust me," I said, the corners of my mouth quirking up into something that felt almost like a grin. "And make it strong."
He nodded and moved, taking out the old, familiar glass and the dark, smoky liquor. The liquid glimmered in the glass as he poured, the gold liquid catching the light like a drop of amber. He slid it over to me with a touch that lingered just a second too long, but neither of us said a word about it.
I took the glass, the coldness of the drink seeping into my bones as I let the first sip burn away the sharpness in my chest. It felt good.
"Did you really think I was going to be the one to break that spell?" Berti asked, his voice still holding that note of incredulity, but now with a touch of humor that I didn't expect.
I shrugged, smirking into the amber depths of my drink. "Yep."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smile that made his exhaustion look almost endearing. "Did you see how I almost got blasted into the next century by my own magic? That dome was sturdy for sure."
"Part of being the strongest," I said, lifting the glass in a mock salute. "You're always the first one to get hit with your own power."
He laughed, a rare, bright sound that didn't carry any of the tension from before. It warmed the room, made it feel less like an aftermath and more like the first breath of relief. I took another sip, feeling the weight of the night start to loosen its grip on me, at least a little.
We didn't talk long, but in that silence, there was a comfort I didn't know I needed. The world was still intact, even if just barely, and for now, that was enough.
The sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs brought me back from the warm daze of the drink and the aftershock of the night. Alex appeared at the top of the landing, his blonde hair tousled and eyes wide with concern. The moment he saw me sitting in the armchair, a hesitant smile crept over his face, something in it both relieved and anxious.
"I guess you succeeded?" he called, one eyebrow raised, as he took in the scene before him.
I met his gaze, my own smile slow but genuine, something rare that felt both unfamiliar and necessary. "We did," I said, the words rolling out smoother than I'd expected. The tension I'd been holding inside all night loosened, and the corner of my mouth twitched up in an almost-smirk.
Alex's expression shifted from uncertainty to full-blown relief as he hurried over to join us, the weight of his steps telling me just how tightly he'd been holding on since we'd left. He dropped into the armchair across from me, eyes glancing to Berti before settling back on me.
"Good," Alex said, the word like a breath of air let out after a long, suffocating silence. He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from whatever frantic efforts he'd been making to hold the world together. "I thought I was going to go crazy waiting."
I chuckled, the sound low but strong, and raised my glass to him in a silent toast. "Well, now that I'm here, you can start going crazy for different reasons."
Berti, who had been half-heartedly sipping from his own drink, made a face but chuckled despite himself. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, leaning back and letting the weight of exhaustion show on his face.
Alex's eyes flicked to Berti with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "I don't know what's more shocking—Shay's stupid luck or your ridiculous power."
The tension in the room seemed to melt, the shadows in the corners feeling less like threats and more like the gentle embrace of home. It was an impossible night, but somehow, we'd made it through.
I drained the last of the drink, the warmth of alcohol spreading through me as I felt the weight of the night settle deeper into my bones. I rubbed a hand over my face and turned to Alex, who was watching me.
"How's Rolo?" I asked, my voice low, careful not to let it carry the tremble I felt beneath my skin.
Alex's brows drew together, a flash of concern crossing his face. "He locked himself in his room. Last I saw, he was still working."
A knot of unease twisted in my chest. I nodded once and made my way upstairs, the familiar creak of the floorboards underfoot grounding me even as my thoughts raced. The hallway was dim, the late hour casting shadows that danced like specters against the walls. I stopped outside Rolo's door and pressed an ear to it, hearing the faint rustle of papers, the soft scratch of pen against parchment, and the muttered fragments of what sounded like desperate incantations.
I hesitated, fingers brushing the door handle as I let out a sigh. If anyone needed a moment to gather themselves, it was Rolo. I stepped back, taking one last look before turning down the hallway to my own room.
The dim light seeping through the crack in the door was the only indicator that someone was there. The silence beyond it was heavy, pressing down on me, and I opened the door to find Mose, lying in my bed, eyes closed and body still.
He hadn't woken up since the battle. The last memory I had of him was that look of raw shock and desperation before the mirror grabbed his essence and teleported him out. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. My fingers hovered over his hand, but I didn't touch him. Not yet.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a cold presence washed over the room. It wasn't the kind of cold that made you shiver; it was the kind that pressed into your bones, undeniable and inescapable. I didn't need to look up to know who it was.
"Simon," I said softly, my voice carrying a note of gratitude I rarely allowed myself to express. "Thank you for looking after me."
A scoff came from the corner of the room. "You're thanking me?" Simon's voice was as sharp as the chill he brought with him. "When you were ready to throw your own life away a moment later?"
I turned my head slightly to glance at him. His translucent form leaned against the wall, arms crossed and his expression unreadable, as always. The haunting frost in his gaze was tempered by something else—something quieter, more conflicted.
A chuckle escaped me, soft and tired. "Fair point. But I'm still glad I lived. Even if it's to hear you scold me."
Simon's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the ghostly veil of his presence seemed to flicker. "You don't get it, do you?" he said, his voice low. "You're reckless. You don't think about the people who'd be left behind."
I turned my gaze back to Mose, the weight of Simon's words sinking in. "I do think about them," I replied after a moment. "Every time. But sometimes... sometimes it feels like the only way forward."
Simon was quiet for a long beat, the chill in the air deepening. Then he sighed, the sound carrying a hint of resignation. "You're impossible, Shay."
I smirked, just a little. "And you're still here."
Simon didn't respond, but I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Whether it was in frustration or amusement, I couldn't tell.
"Stay," I said quietly, my voice almost a whisper. "For as long as you can. It means more than you know."
He didn't answer, but the cold in the room lingered, wrapping around me like a quiet promise. For now, that was enough.
Simon shifted closer, his form flickering faintly in the dim light. His gaze fell to Mose, then back to me, sharp and assessing. "So, what's the plan? Going to bleed yourself dry and hope it fixes him?"
The bluntness of his tone made me huff a soft laugh, but it quickly faded. "I'm not sure if it'll work," I admitted. "Magical veins aren't tangible organs. It's not like trying to heal a liver or a broken bone. They're... different."
Simon raised a brow, the corner of his mouth curling in a faint smirk. "Different doesn't mean impossible, does it?"
"No, it doesn't," I said, my gaze fixed on Mose. "But it does mean it's uncharted territory. My blood carries magic, yes. But whether it can strengthen or heal someone else's magical core… it's just a theory."
"And you're not one to gamble on theories," Simon remarked, his tone cutting, but not without a hint of understanding.
I met his eyes, letting a small, wry smile form. "Usually, no. But this time, I don't have much choice, do I?"
Simon studied me for a moment, his translucent form almost shimmering with thought. "You're right—you don't. But you're also not the only one in this equation, Shay. The kid is working tirelessly on something. Just... don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. Mose wouldn't want that."
His voice softened at the end, and I felt a flicker of something I couldn't quite name. It wasn't hope, but it wasn't despair either. It was just... quiet understanding.
"I won't," I said, the promise steady in my voice.
Simon scoffed again, but this time it was lighter, almost teasing. "You'd better not. I'm not sticking around just to watch you screw up, Shay."
"Noted," I murmured, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. For now, the silence that followed felt less heavy, less suffocating.
Even after Simon left, I stared at Mose for a while, the pale light washing over his features and casting shadows that seemed deeper than they should. I couldn't bring myself to touch him, not when the familiar pull—the familiar hunger for magic that had been such an inseparable part of him—was missing. Mose's magic was gone, and it was as if a part of him had been stripped away.
I glanced back at Mose, the dim light playing over his unmoving form. His chest rose and fell, steady but hollow. His fate had always been written—bound to his refusal to take the magic of others, choosing to stand apart even when it meant his own ruin.
He wouldn't live a long life without magic. The energy that had once given him strength, the same force that had drawn him to me in the first place, was now gone, leaving him to a fate I'd failed to change. Maybe, just maybe, I really couldn't alter fate at all.
A chill passed through me, settling in my chest and tightening the space around my heart. The questions echoed in the silence: Was there truly no way to rewrite destiny?
The memory of the Time Mage's face flared behind my eyes. I remembered the way her eyes had searched mine, an unspoken plea that resonated in the marrow of my bones. Remember, she had seemed to whisper, even though she'd never spoken a word.
A bitter smile twisted my lips as I thought of that. I hope that at least one of us will succeed.
I needed to succeed.
The knock at the door was soft, tentative, but unmistakable. I looked up, surprised, as Lil stepped into the room. Her eyes were tired but steady, filled with that fierce, quiet strength she always carried. She closed the door behind her, moving forward with a sense of purpose that made the air around us crackle.
"How is he?" Her voice was gentle, barely louder than a whisper, as she glanced at Mose, then back to me.
I let out a sigh that felt heavier than I wanted it to. "Unchanged," I said, my voice rough. "Still unconscious."
Lil reached out, her fingers brushing against his still hand as if searching for a thread of connection, some sign.
I watched her, unable to look away as she closed her eyes, her brows knitting together in concentration. Her magic, usually bright and vibrant, surged within her, a pulse that spoke of life and power. I could see it, the shimmering light that made her presence known, but it faltered at the touch of his skin. The energy hesitated, danced around him as if it were testing the waters, then splintered and faded into a dull, defeated silence.
A shiver raced down my spine as Lil's eyes snapped open, her expression tight with frustration. "I can't course my magic through him," she admitted, the words heavier than any of us wanted to hear.
Lil's fingers tightened around his. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the house and the muffled sounds from downstairs, where the rest of the world was trying to pick up the pieces of what had just happened.
"I thought... I thought I could find a way," she said.
I swallowed, trying to muster the strength to say something reassuring, but words failed me. Instead, I moved to sit beside her, placing a hand over her shoulder in silent solidarity. We were both searching for answers, grasping at the impossible and finding only shadows.
"We'll figure it out," I whispered.
Lil's eyes met mine, and in them, I saw the flicker of defiance, a spark that refused to die. "We will," she said, determination hardening her voice.
A moment of silence hung in the room, broken only by the steady sound of the wind outside, rustling through the leaves as if whispering secrets of a world that kept moving. Lil shifted slightly, glancing at Mose and then back to me. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a warmth in her eyes, a subtle kind of empathy that made my chest tighten.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked, her voice softer than I'd heard in a long time.
For a second, I was taken aback, caught off guard by the question. The weight of the past hours pressed down on me, the desperation of the battle, the impossibility of Mose's state, the doubts that clung to me like shadows. But more than anything, there was the sharp realization that I didn't want to be alone right now.
The space between us was charged, an unspoken understanding that neither of us was ready to face the night alone. I nodded, but the motion felt foreign, like a surrender. "Yeah," I said, the word coming out rougher than I intended.
Lil's fingers extended, reaching for mine in a gesture so simple it almost broke me. The touch would have seemed inconsequential to anyone else, but for us, in this moment, it was an anchor. The pulse of her magic brushed against my skin, warm and familiar, offering the comfort of someone who understood.
"Come on," she said, voice steady, even as her eyes held that silent question: Will you let me in?
I reached out and took her hand, feeling the magic surge between us as she prepared to teleport us out of the room. As the room shimmered and blurred, I realized that I had accepted more than just a trip to the living room; I had accepted the solace she was offering.
The world twisted around us, the familiar pull of displacement rushing through me, and before I could even gather my thoughts, the room solidified again. We were back in her living room.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
I wasn't sure but she was already moving towards the kitchen. I just sighed and sat down on the sofa.
Lil set the takeout containers down on the coffee table with a quiet thud, the aroma of warm food filling the room, grounding us both in the moment. She sat down next to me on the sofa, not saying a word, but her presence alone seemed to make the tension in my chest loosen just a little.
I hadn't realized how much I needed this. I leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, the dull ache in my head a reminder of the battle.
"Shay," Lil's voice was soft, tentative.
I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding, my gaze slipping sideways to find her eyes. They were wide, patient, waiting for the words I wasn't sure I had the strength to say. But tonight, I felt the weight of silence pressing down too hard. I needed her to know.
"I'm afraid," I admitted, the words slipping out as easily as a whispered secret. "I'm afraid that maybe I can't change fate, not really. Maybe it's like… like a thread that no amount of tugging can alter. Maybe I've been wrong all this time."
Lil's expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing her face.
My voice dropped, raw and strained. "Mose's fate. You know, he never wanted to take anyone's magic. No matter what it cost him, even if he died. And now…" I hesitated, the next words catching in my throat. "His magic is gone. He'll never be able to use it again or take anyone else's magic. I look at him, and I wonder if this was always his path, if my interference was just a distraction. I don't think he'll survive without it. And that scares me, Lil. What if I can't change anything? What if all of this, everything I've done, is just… futile?"
Her eyes softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against my arm. The warmth of her touch was steady, anchoring me in the present, away from the storm raging in my mind. "You don't know that."
"Maybe fate is bigger than me, bigger than all of us," I said, my voice bitter.
Lil let out a sigh, one that spoke of years of unspoken thoughts and shared struggles. "I think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. Fate may be unyielding, but you've bent it before. You're not done yet, and neither is Mose."
"Now, eat."
Lil's gentle command snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked at her. She nodded toward the containers on the table, the food inside now cooling, as if waiting for me to remember it was there.
I stared at the spread—steaming rice, fragrant stir-fry, a dish that I usually wouldn't have chosen for myself but somehow seemed perfect now. I hesitated for a moment, then picked up the fork and took a bite. The taste was a small but welcome distraction.
The first bite was like a spark, igniting something inside me. The hunger that had been dulled by stress and worry came back with a vengeance, and I found myself eating without thinking, the food filling the hollowness that had been threatening to take hold.
"Good?" Lil asked, teasing, the playful edge in her voice a welcome change from the somber mood that had cloaked the room.
I glanced up at her, a genuine smile forming despite myself. "Perfect," I said, and it was true. In this moment, with her sitting beside me, the quiet of the room broken only by the soft sounds of us eating, everything felt a little less overwhelming.