Chapter Fifty-Nine

The night felt heavier than usual.

Celeste sat on the floor of Elowen's study, legs crossed, her hands resting on her knees. The dim candle light flickered against the walls, casting elongated shadows that stretched and twisted with every movement. The air smelled of burning sage and something metallic, something sharp.

Amelia stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression tense. She hadn't spoken much since Celeste agreed to this. Nathaniel was near the doorway, silent, watchful, his sharp gaze flicking between Elowen and Celeste as if waiting for a reason to stop this.

And Elowen…

Elowen stood before Celeste, her hands moving through the air, tracing invisible lines of power. The books piled around her were older than anyone in the room, their pages frayed, their covers worn thin by time.

"This isn't a spell," Elowen murmured, voice low. "It's a test. You'll be stepping into the space between worlds—the edge of existence itself."

Celeste swallowed hard. "And what happens if I don't find my tether?"

Elowen's hands stilled.

The silence that followed was answer enough.

Celeste exhaled, steadying herself. "Okay."

Elowen took a step back. "Lie down."

She obeyed, settling onto the floor, staring up at the wooden ceiling. Her heart pounded as she felt the shift in the air—the pull of something ancient, something vast.

Elowen's voice came next, a whisper that barely reached her ears. "Close your eyes."

Celeste did.

And then—

The world tilted.

A sharp tug pulled at her chest, like an invisible thread being yanked. Her breath hitched as the floor beneath her vanished, the weight of her body dissolving into nothing.

She was falling.

No. Not falling.

Drifting.

The world around her had disappeared into a vast expanse of darkness, stretching endlessly in all directions. Stars flickered in the distance, but they weren't the stars she knew. They pulsed and twisted, shifting in colors she couldn't name. The air—if there even was air—hummed with a low, resonant energy that she could feel in her bones.

A presence stirred.

Celeste turned, searching the void, and then—

She saw her.

A woman stood a few feet away, her features blurred as if the universe itself couldn't quite decide how to define her. Her hair was long, weightless, moving like it was underwater. And her eyes—

Celeste gasped.

They were the same eyes she had painted a thousand times.

The dream girl.

But this wasn't just a dream.

Celeste tried to move, but her body felt sluggish, disconnected. "Who… are you?"

The figure tilted her head, watching her closely. And then, she spoke.

"You already know."

Celeste's heart pounded. "Are you my tether?"

The woman smiled. "I am part of you."

Celeste's pulse quickened. "Then why am I slipping away?"

The woman didn't answer right away. She reached out, and suddenly, Celeste felt something—something cold, something heavy. She looked down.

Her wrist.

The cracks were spreading. Thin fractures of golden light ran along her skin, pulsing, shifting. The woman placed a hand over them, her touch gentle, almost reverent.

"This world is trying to take you back," she murmured. "Because it knows the truth."

Celeste's breath caught. "The truth?"

The woman's eyes softened. "You were never meant to stay."

A sharp pain lanced through Celeste's chest. "No," she whispered. "That's not true."

But deep down, something in her already knew.

The cracks had always been a warning.

The world had been patient. But now, it was calling her home.

She wasn't real.

Not really.

The magic had brought her here. But it would not let her remain forever.

Celeste shook her head, panic rising. "No—there has to be a way. I have a tether. I have to."

The woman's expression was unreadable. "Then find it."

Celeste clenched her jaw. "I will."

The woman studied her for a long moment, then slowly stepped back. The space around her seemed to ripple, her form shifting between solid and ephemeral, light and shadow.

"You don't have much time," she said. "Choose."

Celeste's breath shuddered out of her. "Choose what?"

The woman's gaze locked onto hers.

"To stay."

The void began to tremble. The stars pulsed violently. Celeste felt the force pulling her again, stronger this time, trying to drag her back—back to the place she had come from, back to the nothingness she had unknowingly escaped.

She fought against it.

She clenched her fists.

She thought of Amelia.

She thought of the life she had built.

She thought of every brushstroke, every canvas, every dream she had ever painted.

I'm not ready to go.

The woman lifted her hand, and suddenly, Celeste felt herself being yanked—hard—backward.

The void shattered.

The next thing she knew—

She was gasping for air, her body arching off the floor of Elowen's study, Amelia's hands gripping her shoulders, frantic. "Celeste!"

The world snapped back into place. The candlelight. The scent of sage. Nathaniel's voice, sharp and urgent.

Celeste's head swam, her vision blurring as she clutched her wrist.

The cracks had spread further.

And this time, they were glowing.