Chapter 30
Lochlan
“LONG TRAIN RIDE? WHAT TO brING.” —THE STELLA RUNE GAZETTE
The train station in Stella Rune exuded an otherworldly charm, with its wooden beams arcing gently over the platform and the glowing lanterns casting it all in warm light.
Lochlan couldn’t help drawing comparisons to the station he’d left behind all those years ago in Dover—cold, concrete, and unremarkable.
This place, with its faint hum of glamoured magic, felt alive.
Soon he’d be leaving it to return to the world he’d once thought of as home.
Standing inside a phone booth tucked within the station, he traced his fingers over an old privacy rune carved into the wood. Its faint glow was barely noticeable, but its presence was a small reminder of the magic he now carried more easily, though still struggled to fully claim.
Movement caught his eye: deep red hair that glowed even under the station’s dim lighting. Nia. She stood in the entrance, her gaze sweeping the room like a predator surveying its territory. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and for a moment, he watched her.
Damn, she was beautiful.
He’d texted her to meet him here, and though she hadn’t seen him, she moved with the confidence and purpose of someone who knew where she was going. As Nia passed the booth, he reached out on instinct, his fingers brushing hers in a fleeting touch that startled her to a stop.
Her laugh was soft, almost amused as he clasped her hand firmly, guiding her into the cramped space. She stepped closer, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What is this?” she teased, her voice low and warm. “Hiding from someone?”
He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Being in her presence made everything easier.
Her gaze dropped, catching on the duffle bag at his feet. The humor in her expression faded. “Oh,” she murmured, the weight of realization thick in her voice. “I ask you to take up space, and this is what you do? Leave?”
Lochlan shifted uncomfortably, searching for the right words. “I need to go to Dover,” he said quietly. “To figure some things out.”
The silence that followed felt thick with things neither of them seemed ready to say. Nia pressed her lips into a thin line. Then, with a small nod, she lifted her chin in that practiced way that made her look untouchable.
“Okay,” she said, her voice suddenly crisp, distant. “You go. I’ll take care of Jade. And the ducks.”
Lochlan blinked at her, caught off guard. “Really?”
“Of course.” She stepped closer, running her hands up his chest before resting them at the back of his neck. Her fingers found his hair, twirling the strands in a slow, deliberate way that sent goosebumps racing down his spine.
“I, uh… I left some food in the fridge. For the next few days,” he said, stumbling over the words.
“For the ducks?” she asked, one brow arching in challenge.
“For you.”
Her answering smile was wicked. Dangerous.
“You know,” she said, tugging his hair hard enough to make his breath hitch, “I managed to take care of myself just fine before you came along.”
“And I bet the delivery drivers miss you.” His grin widened as she rolled her eyes, the urge to kiss her nearly overwhelming. “And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“What about my father?” she asked suddenly, the question sharp enough to catch him off guard.
Lochlan hesitated. “I sent word to his office,” he said carefully, avoiding her gaze.
Her eyes narrowed skeptically. “You sent word?”
“He seemed fine with it,” Lochlan added, guilt twisting like a knife.
Before she could press further, a whistle cut through the moment, the announcement of the train’s imminent departure echoing over the station intercom.
“Nia—”
Her kiss silenced him, soft and lingering and bittersweet. When she pulled back, her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.
“Hurry back, Loch. I’ll be waiting.”
Lochlan nodded, throat tight as he grabbed his bag. Turning toward the platform, he forced himself to move forward. He didn’t dare look back—not yet. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to keep going.
At last, he reached the train and climbed aboard, his legs stiff with hesitation. The doors slid shut behind him and he turned. Through the window, his gaze swept the platform and—
Nia burst out of the station lobby, her steps quick, her face unreadable.
She stopped at the platform’s edge, her eyes darting across the windows as, just for a moment, her mask slipped. Raw, unguarded sadness flickered over her face, a stark contrast to her usual confidence as her gaze searched the train until—
Their eyes met.
In an instant, Nia pulled herself back together with practiced ease. She straightened, flicking her hair over her shoulder as her smirk returned, and with it a playful wink that sent a sharp ache through Lochlan’s chest.
Why hadn’t she offered to come with him? No, that wasn’t fair. He hadn’t given her the chance.
The real question was: why hadn’t he asked her?
Lochlan’s stomach tightened. The answer was tangled up with his doubts and unspoken fears. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to burden her with the weight of his journey—or worse, maybe he wasn’t ready to face what her presence might mean.
The train began to move, pulling him slowly away from her. Lochlan stood frozen, his hand braced against the train door, watching until she was a shadow in the distance. Only then did he turn and head toward his cabin.
Sliding the door open, he stopped short.
Echo—massive, his fur the color of coal—was sprawled across one seat, lifting its head to chuff at him with mild interest. Before Lochlan could process the sight, the tiny bathroom door creaked open and Thane stepped out, his expression smug and satisfied.
“Well, this is going to be a long ride,” Lochlan muttered, tossing his duffle onto the luggage rack. His attention shifted to the dog. “Hey, old boy. You’re looking good for your age.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Is Thane being mean? I bet he is.”
The dog chuffed again, his tail giving a lazy thump against the seat.
Lochlan crouched to scratch behind Echo’s ears. “Jade says hello.”
He glanced toward his brother and caught Thane’s smile.
Lochlan no longer felt the fury Thane had stoked by sneaking into his home and asking him to come back.
The past day had dulled it, but amplified the gnawing questions of what he might miss or never have the chance to know if he didn’t return.
So, here he was, leaving behind a woman he wanted more than anything to see a family who’d never wanted him.
Goddess, it sounded stupid when he thought about it like that.
Maybe this whole trip was a mistake.
“It’ll be great,” Thane said, breaking the silence.
“Mind reading?” Lochlan lifted an eyebrow, straightening. “I didn’t realize you were a witch, too.”
Thane gave him a wink. “I don’t need to be a witch to know you’re already second-guessing. Or catastrophizing. But it really will be fine, little brother.”
Lochlan dropped into his seat. “We’ll see how right you are soon.”
Thane didn’t reply, his grin yielding to his usual stoicism as he leaned back in his seat.
Lochlan turned his gaze to the window. The countryside stretched out before him like a dream: rolling hills speckled with wildflowers shimmered in the evening light, and cliffs tumbled into sparkling blue waters. Magic clung to the landscape like a secret, subtle but undeniable.
The train plunged into a tunnel and the world outside disappeared, replaced by the low, steady pulse of motion that filled the cabin.
Lochlan shifted in his seat, his thoughts wandering to Nia—the way her kiss had lingered, full of promise.
Echo snuffed softly in his sleep, his tail twitching once before settling again.
Thane sat with his arms crossed, his gaze distant.
Lochlan leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. The rhythmic hum of the train filled his ears, a steady reminder of the journey ahead, and the growing distance between him and the world he’d left behind.