NINE
Amelia decided, after the embarrassing incident, not to tell Silas that she’d had a strange dream about him. She didn’t need to fuel his smugness.
After a pointedly long knock from Silas, he entered with a predictable smirk, and she knew she had made the right call.
Silas was fully dressed, mercifully, and he sauntered inside like he owned the room, perching on the edge of her bed while she paced restlessly.
Amelia launched into a scientific tirade, shoving aside the array of emotions that the nightmare had elicited.
“We need to figure out the parameters of this curse,” she said, spinning to stride in the other direction.
“Curse?” he asked, tone edged with amusement.
She paused and glanced at him. “Bond,” she corrected, and when he didn’t respond, Amelia continued. “We should map out a series of tests to identify how the midnight pull works, if there’s limitations, if there’s a way to nullify, control or stop it.”
Silas nodded. “Of course,” he agreed. “I have some in mind.”
“Same.”
He gestured to her. “Proceed.”
“Fine.” Amelia stopped before him, folding her arms. “We could try a physical barrier test. Standing behind objects of certain materials, with varying properties, some magical and some not. See if anything blocks the bond or the pull.”
Silas grew serious as he listened. It was a different seriousness than when he was argumentative or offended. It was a deep concentration, his attention solely on her. She couldn’t explain why, but an odd sense of enjoyment curled within her at his focus.
“We could try a disruption test—can we force the pull to not happen?” Amelia gesticulated as she spoke.
“If we tie ourselves to objects, would it still take us?” She began pacing again, thoughts racing around at a reckless speed.
“In that same vein, I wonder if we can interfere with the magic somehow, using wards or encumbrance boxes to see if we can reduce or remove the magic in the blades and therefore its ability to transport us at midnight.”
Amelia stopped to take a breath and looked over to him. Silas was nodding contemplatively.
“What are some of yours?”
“We should test the limits, do a distance test,” Silas said without missing a beat.
“See if putting great distance between us might limit or break the bond. I’ve also considered tests to the blades itself, so we might understand them better.
Firstly, material composition tests. We should confirm they are cut from the Monoliths, and then test how they interact with other materials. ”
Amelia listened with rapt attention, taken by the air of competence he exuded as he spoke.
“Then I wonder how it would react to other things,” he continued. “I think the magic or the bond was triggered by our blood on the blades. So would it react to other fluids, or blood from other creatures, like animals?”
“That could be risky,” Amelia pondered, cringing as she imagined becoming bonded to a pig or some other such animal.
Silas nodded. “Yes, fastidious research is needed before some tests, but discoveries and understanding don’t come from nowhere or by taking no risks.”
Amelia sighed and gestured for him to continue.
“We’ve been talking about tests for us at midnight, tying us to objects or standing behind different materials,” Silas said.
“I propose the addition of tests to the blades themselves. Their location when midnight hits, if separating them by a great distance makes a difference or placing them behind different materials that could block the magical bond.”
Amelia shifted closer and sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “We have some long days and nights ahead of us,” she said morosely. “Clearly we won’t be sleeping through the night unless we can stop this midnight pull.”
He chuckled softly. “It’ll be like we have a child, keeping us up at night.”
Amelia sent him a bland look. “What a miraculous conception that would be.”
Silas’ eyes crinkled as his smile deepened before it faded away. He glanced down to his wristwatch. “There’s not long left until midnight,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “Where do you want to start tonight?”
Amelia sighed, trepidation weighing on her. She could recall vividly the pain of the pull to Silas from the night before. It felt like her entire being had been split apart and sewn roughly back together by a beginner seamstress with a blunt needle.
She swallowed nervously. “I think we start small tonight. Perhaps being away from the Rift will change it, or hopefully stop it from happening again. Let’s just…stand on opposite sides of the room and see what happens. Let it be a starting point for our research and subsequent tests.”
He nodded once, his usual easy expression pinched.
Amelia shifted on the bed and turned her body to face him. For a fleeting moment, she allowed their show of rare agreement to permit herself a vulnerable query.
“What happened to you at midnight last night?” Her gaze dropped, fidgeting with her nails. “What did you feel during the pull?”
She heard his exhale through his nose before he answered. “It…was horrible. Hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”
Amelia glanced up and found herself nodding, brows narrowing. She couldn’t help the relief that surged, her shoulders sagging on a sigh.
Silas’ face shifted, morphing with a small smile. “Are you relieved that it hurt me?”
Her eyes widened. “What? No!” Amelia said, shocked. “I just…it was the same for me. I guess it’s nice to know I wasn’t alone in it.”
His smile faded and he searched her eyes. “Well, don’t forget that. You aren’t alone in this.”
Her lips parted, struck by the desire to say something in return, perhaps find the words to describe the odd rise of emotion his words brought out.
Amelia turned away, keeping silent.
“Only a few minutes,” he murmured, standing to move over to the chipped window frame. He glanced out the fogged-up glass before he turned to face her.
Amelia pushed herself from the bed and walked to the opposite side of the room, turning until they were looking at each other.
Nervous energy skittered over her skin.
The arcane lamp pulsed, casting flickering shadows along the walls of the cramped room. The only sound was the distant wind whistling through the trees outside, and the slight creaking of the walls as it buffeted the sides of the lodge.
She swallowed. “Sounds like it might storm outside,” Amelia offered quietly to fill the silence.
His eyes found hers, and he sent her a small smile. “You are the storm, Winslow.”
She watched him, wondering where those words came from. He had said them to her before, and while it had confused her then, now it intrigued her.
The space between them felt vast, though it was no more than a handful of feet. The flickering light caught the sharp edges of his face, expression unreadable, but his hands were clenched at his sides. Silas was bracing himself.
So was she.
Her stomach twisted as she looked down at her watch. It was coming.
Heart pounding and mouth dry, she waited for the agony to tear through her.
Silas dragged a hand through his hair. “We could sit? See if that makes a difference?” His words were quiet, hushed, as though unwilling to disturb the air between them. Yet she had a feeling he was trying to fill the silence, whether to ease her nerves or his own, she couldn’t be sure.
Amelia shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest as if she could hold her fear inside. “I have a feeling that sitting will make it worse, don’t ask me why.” She shifted uneasily.
Silas let out an exhale, looking agitated. “Staring at each other like we’re facing execution isn’t helping either.”
Her arms dropped heavily back to her sides, fingers curling into the sleeves of her jacket. He was joking, but the strain in his voice was clear.
She checked her watch, unable to help it. Less than a minute left.
The air felt heavier, thick with unseen energy. Her skin prickled, the scar on her hand starting to burn.
Silas rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for battle. “This is ridiculous. The waiting. Should we be documenting this, gathering data?”
The nervous energy and anticipation made her feel unreasonably alert and angry. “Right, let’s analyse how much it hurts on a scale of ‘mild discomfort’ to ‘absolute agony,’” she snapped with an eye roll.
Silas’ lips twitched. “You always did love your scales.”
“Shut up.”
“I thought we were going to argue less?” he said, lips tilting into a sly smile.
Thirty seconds left.
Her pulse drummed against her ribs, fingers shaking. Waiting for it was almost worse than the thing itself, knowing it was coming and being helpless to stop it.
Silas’ gaze was intent on her, eyes flicking to where her hands shook at her sides. Amelia curled them into fists. “It’s okay to be afraid, you know.”
Amelia swallowed, staring at her watch instead of him. “I’m not afraid,” she lied, the slight wobble in her voice betraying her.
Ten seconds.
The room felt smaller. The air crackled. Her scar throbbed in warning, and she sucked in a sharp breath. She looked up, sure that her fear was written plainly across her face.
Silas saw something in her expression and began to take a step closer. “Winslow—”
Midnight struck.
Pain, sharp and blinding, lanced through her.
The world lurched.
The breath tore from her throat as the pull yanked her forwards, the space between them collapsing in an instant.
It wasn’t just movement. It was force, gravity, inevitability.
The slicing pain wrenched her apart from the inside out, and she wished to scream but had no mouth that she knew of.
The magic pieced her agonisingly back together.
She barely had time to brace herself before she collided into Silas, her body slamming into his with enough force to knock them both off balance.
His arms caught her, steadying Amelia even as his breath hitched with his own pain.
She clutched at his shirt, legs wobbly. The pain receded as quickly as it had come, but her pulse hammered like a wild thing beneath her skin.
Silas laughed bitterly near her ear. “Well. That felt worse than last time.”
Amelia’s forehead rested against his chest, his hand sitting at the small of her waist, before she realised what she was doing and shoved herself away, hating that the closeness had felt comforting even for a few seconds.
“Yes,” she hissed with unnecessary anger, “it was.”
Silas grinned, but there was tension beneath it. “Care to place it on a scale?” he asked, and he quirked a brow when she just glared at him. “For scientific purposes, of course.”
Amelia huffed and sat back onto her bed. After a moment, she met his eyes, realising he was waiting for an answer. “You first.”
“Fine. I’d give it…a nine out of ten.”
Feeling cross, Amelia sniffed and leaned back onto her arms. “Right, well, I’ll give it an eight.”
He smiled knowingly at her. “Of course you will.” She didn’t respond and watched his smile slip quietly away before he said, “at least we know one thing for certain.”
“What’s that?”
His voice was quiet, resigned. “We’re bonded, and unless we find a way to stop it, this will happen every night.”
The morning air was crisp in the barely broken light of dawn, yet the Rider’s Retreat already stirred with movement. Mercenaries tightened their saddle straps, traders loaded their wagons, and stable hands called to restless horses.
Inside the Inn, Amelia cinched the straps of her pack and slung it over her shoulder.
Her body ached from poor sleep, dreams haunted by the remnants of the dark place, shadows and whispers curling at the edges of her mind.
She focused on the simple, repetitive task of preparing to leave rather than dwell on it.
Amelia knocked on Silas’ door. Twice .
His second response that she could enter was filled with humour.
Silas stood by the window, fastening the last button of his traveling cloak. His blonde hair was still tousled from sleep, but the sharp, assessing look in his eyes told her he’d been awake for hours.
“We should leave within the hour,” he said without looking up to her. “I don’t want anyone asking questions about where we’ve been or what we might have brought from inside the Rift.”
Amelia rolled her shoulders, adjusting the weight of her pack. “Nobody would guess what we have, Finley, and nobody cares where we’ve come from.”
Silas shot her a flat look. “Clearly you haven’t spent much time in these parts, or around other explorers. They always have questions, wanting to know what you know, wanting to steal what you might have discovered.”
She smirked even as a tendril of unease slithered along her spine. “So dramatic.”
“We have a small window of opportunity to keep this secret, Winslow,” Silas said, walking towards her and picking up his pack. “If anyone finds out, we’ll land ourselves in a lot of trouble. Imbued magic is no joke, there’s many people who would exploit us to find a way to have magic themselves.”
He pushed open the door and they both stepped out into the hallway. The room she had occupied sat across the way, door open, holding the memory of the night prior.
Amelia swallowed. “Yeah, I get it. But they can have it if they really want it. Spontaneous, painful midnight transportation? No. Thank. You.”
His brow twitched but he didn’t argue with her. He moved towards the stairs, pausing at the top to glance back when he realised she hadn’t followed. “You ready?”
Amelia took one last look into her room, the space carrying the echoes of their midnight tension. Then she exhaled, nodding.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”