Chapter Fifty-Seven

The drive was quiet.

Celeste sat in the back of Nathaniel's car, watching the city blur past the tinted windows. The rain had started again, light but persistent, streaking against the glass like veins of silver. The distant glow of streetlights cast shifting patterns over Amelia's face, highlighting the tension in her furrowed brow. She was still gripping Celeste's hand tightly, her fingers cold but steady.

Beside her, Nathaniel was silent, his focus locked on the road. His expression was unreadable, as always, but there was something heavier in the way his hands gripped the wheel, something restrained in the slight furrow of his brow. He wasn't just driving—he was thinking. Planning.

Celeste swallowed, shifting slightly. "Where are we going?"

Nathaniel didn't glance back. "Somewhere safe."

Amelia scoffed, shaking her head. "Yeah, because that worked out so well last time."

Nathaniel exhaled through his nose, but he didn't rise to the bait. "This is different."

Amelia leaned forward slightly. "How? Because right now, it looks a lot like you're just dragging us somewhere without telling us anything. Again."

Celeste could feel the frustration radiating from her. She didn't blame her. After everything that had happened—the threats, the near-misses, the constant feeling of running out of time—it was exhausting. And now, Nathaniel was leading them toward another unknown.

Celeste tightened her grip on Amelia's hand. "Who is this person we're meeting?"

Nathaniel hesitated for a moment before answering. "An old friend."

Amelia let out a dry laugh. "Wow. Super specific. Really reassuring."

Nathaniel's shoulders tensed, but his voice remained level. "They know things. Things that aren't in books, things that even the people chasing you don't understand." He paused before adding, "But trust? That's a different question."

Celeste exchanged a glance with Amelia. That wasn't exactly comforting.

The city around them began to change. The towering glass buildings gave way to older brick structures, their windows darkened, their edges softened by years of weathering. The neon glow of downtown was left behind, replaced by dim streetlamps and the occasional flickering sign. There were fewer people out here, only the occasional silhouette moving beneath the glow of a streetlight.

It felt… quieter. Too quiet.

Finally, Nathaniel pulled into a narrow alleyway between two worn-down buildings and cut the engine.

"We're here."

Celeste peered out the window. The building in front of them looked abandoned—three stories of crumbling brick and steel, its windows blackened with age. The only sign of life was the faint glow of light spilling from the heavy iron door set into the wall.

Amelia frowned. "This is the 'safe place'?"

Nathaniel unbuckled his seatbelt. "Stay close."

Celeste hesitated before stepping out into the cold night air. The scent of rain clung to the pavement, mixing with something metallic—rust, maybe, or something older. The distant rumble of a subway vibrated beneath the soles of her shoes.

Nathaniel walked up to the door and knocked—three sharp raps, then a pause, then two more. A long silence followed.

Then, a metallic click.

The door swung open.

A woman stood on the threshold.

She was tall, wrapped in a long coat, her dark hair streaked with silver. There was something unsettling about her presence—not unkind, but sharp, like a blade kept just barely sheathed. Her gaze settled on Celeste, dark and piercing.

Nathaniel inclined his head slightly. "Elowen."

The woman's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You always bring me the strangest problems, Nathaniel." Her eyes flicked back to Celeste. "And this one… is very strange indeed."

Celeste swallowed.

She didn't like the way Elowen was looking at her—like she already knew everything about her. Like she already knew the answer Celeste had been searching for.

Nathaniel motioned them inside. "We don't have much time."

Elowen stepped back, letting them in.

The door shut behind them with a heavy clang.

Celeste glanced around. The interior was nothing like the outside suggested. Instead of a crumbling ruin, the space was well-lived-in, if cluttered. Bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with thick, ancient tomes. Stacks of parchment and old maps littered a wooden desk at the center of the room, their edges curling from age. The air smelled of ink and dust, with a faint undercurrent of something floral—like dried lavender.

Elowen walked past them, shrugging off her coat and draping it over a chair. "So." She turned to face them fully, crossing her arms. "Let's not waste time. You're here because of her." She nodded toward Celeste.

Nathaniel gave a curt nod. "She's running out of time."

Celeste's stomach tightened.

Elowen studied her again, this time more intently. Celeste felt the weight of her gaze, the way it seemed to press against something deep inside her, searching.

After a long silence, Elowen exhaled through her nose. "I thought so."

Amelia stiffened. "Thought what?"

Elowen turned away, moving toward her desk. She plucked a thick, leather-bound book from one of the stacks, flipping through its worn pages with practiced ease. "I assume you've noticed the signs," she said absently. "The cracks. The way reality itself seems to… resist you."

Celeste swallowed hard. "Yes."

Elowen stopped flipping through the pages. She tapped her fingers against the open book, thinking.

Then, she looked back at Celeste. "What's keeping you here?"

Celeste blinked. "What?"

Elowen tilted her head. "Magic doesn't create something out of nothing. It always needs a tether, a reason. You weren't born into this world, you were summoned." She gestured toward Celeste's wrist. "And whatever called you here is starting to lose its hold."

Celeste felt her pulse quicken. "You mean… I—"

"You're unraveling," Elowen said simply. "The question is… why haven't you disappeared yet?"

The words sent a chill through Celeste's bones.

She had been so focused on the cracks, on the warnings, that she hadn't thought about that part. If she wasn't supposed to be here, if the magic was fading—why hadn't she vanished already?

What was keeping her anchored?

Amelia's grip on her hand tightened.

Elowen tapped the book again, lost in thought. "Something is tying you to this world. Something strong enough to resist the natural order." She glanced between Celeste and Amelia. "The obvious answer would be emotion. Love, even."

Celeste's breath caught.

Elowen didn't say it like a question. She said it like a fact.

Nathaniel exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We don't have time to theorize."

Elowen raised a brow. "No, we don't." She shut the book with a heavy thud. "Which means we need to find that tether before it breaks completely."

A thick silence followed.

Celeste's heart pounded. Amelia's fingers were still laced with hers, grounding her.

And for the first time since all of this started, Celeste realized—

She was terrified of the answer.