7
CECILY
The workshop door was unlocked—a stroke of luck. He was somewhere about, so she must be quick.
Slipping inside, Cecily closed it softly behind her. The machine dominated the far wall, seeming to pulse with a silent energy. Every instinct screamed at her to hurry, to act before her grandfather, or anyone else, returned.
Dangerous, he’d said. Unfinished.
She reached for the curtain—
“Cecily!”
She spun around.
Finn stood just inside the workshop door, his chest rising and falling hard, as if he’d been running.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I was coming to speak with Anton,” he said, breathless. “I saw you on the road. You were riding as if the devil himself were on your tail. I feared the worst.”
She turned back to the machine. “You shouldn’t be here. Go away.”
“I know what you’re planning to do,” he said, stepping closer. “Anton said it’s not ready. Cecily, you cannot do this.”
She turned to him and raised her chin defiantly. “Lady Cecily to you.”
He sighed. “Lady Cecily. Do not do this.”
“You understand nothing,” she said as she pulled the curtain aside. “Go home. Wherever that is.”
Finn stepped closer. “Cecily, Lady Cecily, don’t. Whatever you think this will fix, it won’t. This thing could send you anywhere. Or nowhere.”
She stepped inside the chamber.
The space was narrow, the curtain closing behind her. The control panel was within reach. Her hands were steady now, steadier than they had been all day.
Finn’s voice sharpened. “Come out. We’ll find another way.”
“There is no we. There is no other way.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
She reached for the switch.
Finn swore and lunged forward, yanking the curtain aside. “Stop—”
She pulled the lever.
The chamber came alive at once. A low hum filled the space, vibrating through the floorboards, through her very bones. The air became heavy, pressing close.
Finn grabbed her arm. “Turn it off!”
She met his desperate gaze, the hum of the machine vibrating through her. “No.”
The sound deepened. The floor seemed to sway.
Finn didn’t let go. He stepped fully into the chamber, crowding the space, as the curtain fell around them both.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
“I can’t let you do this alone.”
The hum surged. The light vanished.
And the present tore itself away.