Chapter Fifty-Four

Celeste lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling of Amelia's apartment, listening to the quiet hum of the city beyond the window. The ritual had worked—she was still here. No fractures, no fading. She had spent hours running her fingers over her wrist, half-expecting to feel the telltale crack of something slipping away. But all she felt was warm, smooth skin.

And yet, despite the relief, a weight still pressed against her chest.

She turned her head slightly, glancing at Amelia, who lay beside her. Her eyes were closed, her breaths steady, but Celeste knew she wasn't asleep.

"Still awake?" she whispered.

Amelia hesitated, then nodded.

Celeste shifted onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. "You okay?"

For a long moment, Amelia didn't answer. Then, in the dim light, she turned to look at her. "You're real now," she murmured.

Celeste frowned. "I was always real."

Amelia exhaled, rubbing her fingers over her temple. "You know what I mean."

Celeste did. And she also knew that Amelia hadn't fully let herself believe it yet.

She reached out, brushing a strand of Amelia's dark hair from her face. "I'm here," she said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Amelia swallowed hard and nodded, but Celeste could see the flicker of doubt behind her eyes.

Would there always be a part of Amelia that feared losing her?

The thought sent a pang through her chest, but she pushed it aside. She didn't want to spend this moment worrying about the future.

Instead, she took Amelia's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Sleep," she whispered. "We'll figure everything out in the morning."

Amelia's grip tightened for a fraction of a second before she finally closed her eyes again. Celeste stayed awake a little longer, listening to her breathing, memorizing the warmth of her hand in hers.

She had fought so hard to stay in this world. Now she just had to learn how to live in it.

Morning came too soon.

Celeste woke to the smell of coffee and the distant sound of voices. For a moment, she was disoriented—the soft sheets, the muted sunlight filtering through the curtains—it felt too… normal.

But then she remembered. The ritual. The feeling of magic weaving into her very being. The relief of knowing she wasn't fading anymore.

She was still here.

Pushing herself up, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and followed the scent of coffee into the living room.

Nathaniel was standing by the window, arms crossed, watching the city below. Amelia was at the kitchen counter, pouring two mugs of coffee. Neither of them spoke, but the tension between them was thick enough to cut through.

Celeste cleared her throat. "Morning."

Nathaniel turned to her immediately, his gaze sharp, assessing. Amelia, on the other hand, visibly softened, offering her a small smile.

"You sleep okay?" Amelia asked, handing her a mug.

Celeste took it, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. "Yeah. You?"

Amelia gave a noncommittal shrug.

Nathaniel exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I assume nothing… unusual happened overnight?"

Celeste arched a brow. "Aside from existing?"

Amelia shot Nathaniel a look. "She's fine."

Nathaniel didn't look convinced. "Magic like this doesn't always settle immediately. The bond you two created—it's powerful. It changes things." He turned his gaze to Celeste, searching her expression. "You don't feel anything different?"

Celeste hesitated.

She felt… grounded. More solid than she ever had before. But there was something else, too. A sense of connection—not just to this world, but to Amelia.

Last night, when she had held Amelia's hand, she had felt something stir beneath the surface of their bond. An awareness. As if she could sense Amelia's emotions, even without words.

But she wasn't sure how to explain that. Not yet.

So she settled for, "I feel… more here."

Nathaniel studied her for a moment longer before sighing. "Good. That's good."

But he still looked troubled.

Celeste took a sip of coffee, letting the warmth steady her. "You don't think this is over, do you?"

Nathaniel hesitated. "It should be."

"But?" Amelia pressed.

Nathaniel turned back to the window, watching the city with that calculating look he always had. "There's something about this that still doesn't sit right with me."

Celeste frowned. "Like what?"

Nathaniel was silent for a long time before he finally said, "We weren't the only ones looking for answers."

A chill crept down Celeste's spine.

Amelia's grip tightened around her mug. "You think someone else knows about her?"

Nathaniel didn't answer right away. But when he did, his voice was grim.

"I think someone's been watching."

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Celeste's heartbeat quickened. "Who?"

Nathaniel exhaled. "I don't know yet. But I intend to find out."

Amelia set her mug down, crossing her arms. "Then we're not just waiting around."

Nathaniel's expression hardened. "No. We're not."

Celeste exchanged a glance with Amelia. Whatever peace they had found last night—it was already slipping away.

The fight wasn't over yet.

The next few days passed in a blur.

Nathaniel made calls, called in favors, pieced together whatever scraps of information he could find. Amelia poured over books, trying to understand if the magic they had used had any unintended consequences. And Celeste… Celeste tried to live.

She went outside more. Walked through the city without the lingering fear that she would suddenly disappear. She spent afternoons in Amelia's studio, painting—really painting—without the weight of uncertainty pressing against her.

For the first time since she had come into existence, she allowed herself to imagine a future.

But the feeling of being watched never quite left her.

It was subtle—so subtle she sometimes wondered if she was just being paranoid. A lingering gaze on the subway. A shadow that felt out of place on the street. A prickle at the back of her neck when she walked home at night.

She never caught anyone. Never saw a face.

But the feeling remained.

And then, one evening, it wasn't just a feeling anymore.

Celeste had stepped outside to take a breath of fresh air. The night was quiet, the sky stretched wide above the city. She had barely made it to the edge of the sidewalk when she felt it—that unmistakable presence.

She turned sharply.

And for the briefest moment, she saw someone watching her from across the street.

A man.

Tall. Dressed in dark clothing.

The moment their eyes met, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Celeste's breath caught in her throat.

She hesitated only a second before rushing back inside.

Nathaniel and Amelia looked up as she entered, both immediately alert at the look on her face.

"What is it?" Amelia asked.

Celeste swallowed hard, heart pounding.

"We're not alone."