THIRTY-SEVEN
Aurora’s belongings were gone when Amelia entered the common room in the morning.
Brinkley glanced up from his usual wingback chair, while Halpert sat at the table with a mug of steaming tea.
She looked around for Silas’ sister.
“She left before dawn,” Brinkley offered. “Left a note that she was going back to Lunarian.”
Amelia nodded, slowly sinking into a chair near the cold fireplace.
“Probably best she’s not here for this in case I’m wrong,” Amelia admitted, glancing between the two men. “But I…I’m not sure he’s truly gone.”
Brinkley tilted his head, closing the book in his lap. “What do you mean?”
“I felt something,” she whispered. “Last night at midnight. I felt a piece of the bond, like he was whispering to me behind a closed door.”
“Then there’s a chance?”
Amelia nodded and shrugged at the same time. “I’m going to look into it,” she said determinedly. She glanced at Halpert, who was silent with a contemplative expression. “I felt him, so there must be a way to reach him, like…like I could reach Lyana.”
Brinkley raised a brow. “The creepy woman from your dreams?”
Amelia sighed. “That’s the other thing…”
She explained, albeit briefly, what Lyana had done. That all of her visions, her words, her visits in Amelia’s dreams had all been a farce. A lie to drive some revenge-filled need.
“She was the first?” Halpert said with a curious tilt of his head.
Amelia nodded. “A lot of it doesn’t make sense, but the journal was never Bane’s. She fabricated it…to get something from us that she wanted.”
Brinkley let out a quiet, confused breath. Halpert didn’t move, eyes darkening and lips thinning.
“Lyana wanted Silas to become a sacrifice for her own selfish reasons, would commit him to…suffering,” Amelia said bitterly. “She didn’t want to heal the land…she’s part of the corruption.” She paused, hands shaking with her anger. “She is the corruption.”
Halpert finally spoke, voice low. “What do you plan to do?”
Amelia glanced up. “Find a way to stop her. Find a way into the Realm…I don’t know how. I…I don’t know.”
Brinkley let out a long, slow breath.
“The growth has accelerated,” Halpert said. “The Rift wardens are forcing evacuation of East Town and a few small communities south of the border as well.”
Amelia gritted her teeth, the heaviness of it all pressing in on her.
“Hey,” Brinkley said, leaning forwards, “you’re not alone in this, alright? We’ll figure it out. Whatever she’s done, we’ll find a way to undo it.”
Amelia nodded, barely. Her fingers trembled.
And in the corner of the room, sitting at the table, Halpert watched with a quiet calculation. He offered no further comment, just sipped his tea quietly, shadows behind his eyes.
The small, cramped study was full of warm, soft candlelight, the scent of old books a small, familiar comfort. Amelia sat cross-legged on the floor, the false journal open on the ground before her. She seethed quietly at the words. Lyana’s lies.
The other journal, the glyph-locked one, lay unopened and untouched near her knee. She had been looking at it for a long moment, something niggling at her brain.
Across from her, Halpert adjusted his glasses and handed her another page.
He had agreed that while Brinkley was out to get them fresh Waystone chips to travel north, that they could start looking into the Midnight Realm again, to find a way in, a door.
After everything, his familiar presence felt like a connection to the world she used to know.
To logic. To safety.
“You look tired,” he said gently, voice as soft and patient as it had always been. “You should rest, Amelia.”
She glanced away from the glyph-locked journal, giving him a weak smile. “Rest doesn’t come easy.”
His eyes softened, and for a heartbeat, he looked as if he might reach for her hand. But he didn’t.
“Amelia…” he began, standing slowly and walking to the study’s window, “you’ve been through so much. Lost so much.”
She closed the book, shoving it away, brows pinching. “I’m not done,” she said. “Silas is not…he’s not really gone. There’s something left of him. I felt it.”
“I know,” Halpert said and offered nothing more for the moment.
Amelia sighed and glanced back to the locked journal, frowning at it once more. The sigil on the corner of the cover called to her. She’d seen it before, she knew it.
But she couldn’t recall, and it frustrated her.
With an irritated sigh, she stood and walked over to the window next to Halpert, glancing out at the light of midday, the trees behind Brinkley’s cottage swaying lazily in the wind.
“Amelia,” he said quietly, “I know you want to save Silas, find a way to bring him home. But don’t you think there are more important things to be focusing on?”
She sighed quietly, eyes on the branches of the trees. “I know. But focusing on one doesn’t mean giving up the other. Bringing Silas home is connected to the Rift’s growth, and vice versa.”
“But you will focus on Silas, yes?”
She shrugged a shoulder.
“You’re brilliant, Amelia, you truly are. And with this burden laid at your feet, you’ve done well. Exceptionally well. But you can’t carry the rest of the burden alone, not anymore.”
The tone of his voice had sharpened slightly. She turned her head, suddenly feeling uneasy. “What do you mean?”
Halpert faced her. His expression had changed. Not unkind, but unfamiliar. Stern in a way she had never seen before.
“I made a promise to your parents.”
The world tilted. Amelia took a step back. “You…you w-what?”
“I never wanted it to come to this. But I fear your judgement will be clouded. Your parents have found a way to stop the growth, to repair everything. But they need exceptional talent, talent that is fuelled by magic. I…” He paused to sigh, a terrible sadness crossing his features as he reached out and lay a hand on the side of her arm.
“I don’t want this, but the world may depend on it.
Amelia, it’s time to…repurpose your talents. ”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Halpert—”
His voice was quiet. Apologetic. “ Domare .”
The word struck like lightning.
Not again.
She collapsed to her knees instantly, a choked gasp escaping her lips. Her eyes fluttered, then glazed.
The runes on her back ignited, searing beneath her skin. Magic, old and cruel, surged through her blood like poison.
She stopped breathing for a moment.
Then straightened with perfect posture, expression blank.
A marionette without strings.
Halpert stepped closer, studying her. “You always were brilliant, Amelia. Now, you’ll be exceptional. Now, you’ll save the world.”
She didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
The Amelia he had known, the one who had fought so hard for her freedom, who had loved and lost and clawed her way back again, was buried beneath the spell. Still there. Still screaming inside.
But for now, her eyes only stared ahead, unblinking.
Awaiting her next command.
Halpert smiled faintly, not a trace of happiness behind it.
“Let’s pack our bags and leave a note for your friend.”
He turned towards the door.
And Amelia followed with perfect, expected obedience.