Chapter Fifty-Two

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Celeste felt like she was drowning in it. The weight of Isolde's words pressed against her chest, each syllable heavy with a truth she didn't want to face.

Do you want to stay?

She had spent so long fearing the question, fearing what it meant. But now, with Amelia beside her, her fingers laced with hers, and Nathaniel standing firm behind them, she realized the answer had never changed.

"Yes," she said, her voice quiet but sure. "I want to stay."

Amelia let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening. Nathaniel remained still, unreadable, while Isolde regarded Celeste with something that almost resembled pity.

"That's the problem," Isolde murmured. "Wanting isn't enough."

Celeste's pulse spiked. "What does that mean?"

Isolde stood slowly, moving toward a nearby shelf. She ran her fingers along the spines of the old books before pulling one free. The leather cover was worn, the edges frayed with time. She placed it on the desk and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

She turned the book toward them.

Celeste leaned forward, eyes scanning the yellowed paper. The ink was faded, the script elegant yet ancient. There was an illustration at the center of the page—a figure that looked human at first glance but was surrounded by something unraveling, threads of light breaking apart like strands of a torn canvas.

Below it, a single line of text stood out.

"A creation cannot exist without the hand that shaped it."

Celeste's stomach dropped.

Amelia stiffened beside her. "What is this?"

Isolde exhaled, tapping a finger against the page. "This is what happens when something that wasn't meant to exist tries to hold on."

Celeste felt cold. "Are you saying I can't stay?"

"I'm saying that your existence is bound to the one who created you." Isolde's gaze flicked to Amelia. "And if she falters, if the belief that holds you here begins to wane, you will begin to unravel."

Amelia looked furious. "I have never doubted her existence."

Isolde's eyes softened, but there was something resolute in her expression. "It's not about doubt, Amelia. It's about balance. The universe has laws, and whether we like them or not, they don't bend easily. You created something out of love, out of loneliness, out of need. But the world around you is struggling to accommodate that creation."

Celeste swallowed hard. "So what do I do?"

Isolde hesitated, as if debating how much to say. Then she closed the book with a soft thud.

"There's a way," she admitted.

Nathaniel, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "You're talking about the Binding."

Isolde nodded. "It's the only chance she has."

Celeste looked between them, heart racing. "What is the Binding?"

Isolde hesitated, then gestured for them to follow. She moved toward the far end of the room, where a second door was hidden behind a curtain of heavy fabric.

She pushed it open.

The space beyond was smaller, darker, lit only by a few scattered candles. A large circular emblem was carved into the stone floor, intricate symbols spiraling out from the center. The air felt charged, humming with something Celeste didn't understand.

Isolde stepped inside and turned back to them. "The Binding is exactly what it sounds like," she said. "It binds Celeste to this world permanently. It makes her real in a way that cannot be undone."

Celeste's breath caught. "Then why does it sound like a bad idea?"

Isolde's expression didn't waver. "Because it comes at a cost."

Nathaniel's face darkened. "A steep one."

Amelia moved closer to Celeste, protective. "What cost?"

Isolde looked at her. "A life for a life."

The room went still.

Celeste's stomach twisted. "What?"

Isolde stepped forward, her voice measured. "Celeste was created through magic, but magic always demands something in return. If you want to make her permanent, you have to give something of equal weight to the universe."

"No." Amelia's response was instant, sharp. "No. That's not an option."

Isolde sighed. "Then she will fade."

Celeste felt the crack on her wrist pulse, as if the words themselves had power. She thought of the way it had spread, the way it had grown with every passing day.

She didn't have forever.

Amelia was shaking her head, refusing to look at her. "There has to be another way."

Nathaniel, who had been quiet for too long, finally spoke. "There is."

Isolde turned to him sharply. "Nathaniel—"

But he ignored her, looking at Celeste instead. "There's another ritual. One that doesn't require a life in exchange."

Celeste clung to the hope in his words. "What is it?"

Isolde sighed. "It's risky."

"So is doing nothing," Amelia snapped.

Nathaniel nodded. "It's called the Eversoul Convergence. It doesn't demand a life, but it requires an unbreakable bond. One that can withstand time, doubt, and fate itself."

Celeste's mouth was dry. "What kind of bond?"

Nathaniel's gaze flickered between her and Amelia before he said, "A soul bond."

Amelia stiffened. "Meaning?"

Isolde answered for him. "It means tying your existence together in a way that cannot be undone. If one of you falls, so does the other. If one of you loses faith, the connection shatters. It's not a choice to be made lightly."

Celeste felt her heart hammering in her chest. "And if we do it?"

Isolde's gaze softened. "Then you'll be real," she said. "No more cracks. No more fading. You'll exist as surely as anyone else in this world."

Celeste turned to Amelia.

Amelia, whose entire life had been built around independence, around standing on her own.

Amelia, who had always been terrified of needing anyone too much.

Amelia, who was looking at Celeste now like the entire world could end and she wouldn't let go.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Amelia exhaled and said, "Tell us what we have to do."

The ritual preparations were meticulous.

Isolde laid out symbols across the floor, their intricate designs drawn with a mixture of ink and silver dust. Candles were placed at five points around the circle, their flickering flames casting eerie shadows against the walls. Nathaniel stood off to the side, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"This has to be done right," Isolde warned. "If the bond isn't strong enough, the ritual will fail. And if it fails…" She trailed off, her gaze flickering to Celeste.

Celeste swallowed. She didn't need her to finish.

Amelia stepped forward. "We won't fail."

There was no hesitation in her voice. No doubt.

Isolde studied her for a long moment, then nodded.

"All right," she said. "Let's begin."