10. Everything Sucks Until It Doesn’t #3
“The crystalline resin wouldn’t fuse,” he babbled to the dark sky, resembling a ghost in his nightshirt. “It’s the wrong kind. Completely wrong. The density is unbalanced. The way I’m going, I’ll dissolve you into the ether.”
I had to resort to picking him up, carrying him to bed and holding him down under the heavy blanket until the panic subsided.
Despite the tiny hiccups, I never stopped believing Elian would succeed.
My faith rested first on his raw potential.
As Fern had told me, Elian’s magical abilities were off the charts.
Back at the Element-ary, his tests yielded a ten, the highest reading ever recorded by the Academy.
Paradoxically, the second-best score of nine belonged to Cholerius.
I’d sensed Fern’s lingering sorrow over the fact that Cholerius had chosen to reject his magic and abandon illusion weaving.
But the deeper reason for my absolute certainty in Elian’s success stemmed from Fern’s theory of our fated match, which I now wholeheartedly supported.
I believed I’d travelled to this world for a purpose—and that purpose was Elian.
Having received such a miracle, I refused to accept that the universe would ever go back on its gift, snatching it away at the eleventh hour.
It would all work out.
That said, when the sun stood high on the twelfth day of the market and the Binding Match still hadn’t materialised, I had to admit Elian’s flair for the dramatic shone through. He was cutting it damn close to the skin.
Elian
Ientered the kitchen, the tapping of my heels on the cottage floorboards the only sound cutting through the heavy silence inside.
Everyone was gathered around the table, a stark mirror of the night Kill’em had first dropped into my life.
Tension hung in the air as each passing moment dragged us closer to midnight.
Settie paced an agitated line by the window.
Fern kept pouring honeyed tea into fresh ceramic cups even though nobody touched them.
Across from him, Morrigen and Verity shuffled through a stack of ancient astrological charts, moving the papers to and fro without looking at a single drawing.
Kill’em sat perfectly still. His elbows rested flat on the oak top, his spine straight as he watched the grandfather clock without a trace of alarm.
As I stepped closer, five pairs of eyes locked onto me.
To hide the tremor in my hands, I hid them behind my back, my fingers gently tracing the slender, delicate stick tucked into my palm.
“And?” Settie burst out, her voice hitting a high note that rattled our teacups. “Elain, have you got it? Tell us. Don’t just stand there like a numpty.”
I brought my hand forwards, the matchstick’s head shimmering a deep teal—just a little darker than the shade of my robes.
On catching the lamp’s light, it sparkled with a dense lattice of silver.
“Well, I’ve got… something.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“If I’m entirely honest, I’m ninety, maybe ninety-five percent sure it will work. ”
Settie sucked in a harsh breath. The sharp raise of Morrigen’s eyebrows sent his spectacles sliding a bit lower on the bridge of his nose.
A sudden wave of panic clawed at my chest. “Ninety-five percent isn't good enough. With the Match of Interdimensional Return, I have certainty. I know it will work.” I clenched my teeth and turned to Kill’em.
“I cannot gamble with your life. I’d rather send you back than put you at risk.
” I fought the good fight until my voice finally broke.
“I think we should use my other match. Where is it?”
Kill’em stood up, stepped around the table and wrapped his large arms around me, drawing me against his chest with a slow, unyielding pressure.
“Forget about the other match,” he rumbled into my hair. “I had it destroyed.”
I stiffened, pulling back to stare up at him in disbelief. “You had it… what?”
“I asked Cholerius,” Ke?lhem explained, his expression serene. “He made me fill out three separate disposal dockets and sign a declaration of dangerous property. Then he took it to the communal Aetheric Dissolver of Magic. It’s long been unmade into raw energy.”
My mind overheated. “So that was what you whispered about when he came to the stall yesterday? I thought you were discussing a security issue.” I gaped at him, dumbfounded.
“The Dissolver? Kill’em, are you mad? You-you’re a military commander.
Shouldn’t you plan for every contingency?
Every emergency retreat? I don’t know, calculate the odds?
Why on earth would you destroy your only backup route? ”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “This time, I don’t plan on using any retreat routes, Elian. And I’ve just calculated my odds. Your ninety-five percent is more than enough for me. Let’s just do it.”
I wanted to protest and argue my point further, but no one else seemed interested in listening to reason. Fern clapped his hands. “All right,” he said, looking around the table. “You heard the man.”
His words broke the tension that had kept everyone—excluding Settie—motionless.
The chairs scraped as the group abandoned their seats.
Fern grabbed and lit a garden lantern. Verity, assuming the role of an usher, marched towards the back door and opened it.
Before I could voice another objection, I got swept along by the determined current of my friends’ actions.
The back garden seemed peaceful, veiled in the violet-grey twilight of the approaching eclipse.
Morrigen guided us into a tight circle on the lawn, gesturing to coordinate our positions. “Everyone gather round,” he instructed. “We should link hands to fortify the ambient spiritual energy and aid the enchantment. Ke?lhem, picture stable, happy thoughts.”