A flicker of unease curled in my chest. I straightened slightly and folded my arms across my chest, as if the gesture could protect my secret.
“I suppose anything is possible within a dream.”
Something in his expression shifted, but though he didn’t press the matter, I was certain he’d witnessed the moment I’d discovered the hidden memory and knew I was lying. I found myself hating the lie, longing to open up to him fully, but still not sure I dared allow myself to be vulnerable, however strongly I was attracted to him.
“I recognize these symbols,” I said shakily, hoping to divert his suspicion. I took up the nearby quill and ink and penned the spell as revealed by the recollection I’d witnessed, conscious of the way he leaned over my shoulder to watch.
When I finished, I felt the heat of his gaze studying me for a moment longer before looking back to the text. He traced a line with his finger. “Now I understand why it didn’t work when Iattempted it on my own—the spell requires two voices, spoken together.”
Of course it did. I tightened my jaw. Cooperation wasn’t my style, but both versions of Evander seemed to possess an unsettling ability to draw me into it anyway, despite my stubborn reluctance.
I frowned warily. “Are you certain it won’t turn me into something unpleasant?”
Something in his expression softened and his mouth curved faintly. “Not to worry, you’re too intriguing for me to want to change you in any way.”
The words enfolded my heart. It appeared that this stoic version of Evander was not entirely immune to flirting. The familiarity calmed some of my reservation.
He motioned me over, shifting to make room. I stepped into the space beside him—closer than necessary, but he didn’t step back.
He tapped two separate lines of text. “I’ll take this portion, you read the second. No matter what happens, keep reading until the incantation is complete.”
I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. Evander nodded once, and with that signal, we began.
The words felt strange on my tongue, unfamiliar yet oddly instinctive, as if I were remembering them rather than speaking them for the first time. The air shifted, and a faint tremor passed through the room, stirring loose pages across the table and setting the candle flames flickering.
The symbols on the page seemed to shift as I spoke, fragments aligning and meaning slotting into place just beyond my grasp. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the spell was not being cast, but restored. I faltered.
“Don’t stop,” Evander urged.
I forced myself to continue. With every enchanted word, the faint glow outlining the symbols deepened. A low hum filled the space, vibrating through the floor beneath my feet. The air grew heavy, charged, as though something long dormant had stirred in recognition. For a fleeting moment, I thought it might actually work. And though I had no tangible connection to this surreal dreamscape, I found myself holding my breath in anticipation, desperately hoping it would.
Light suddenly flared brightly, and a sharp pulse of magic burst outward. Every loose scrap of parchment in the room lifted into the air at once, spiraling around us before falling back to the ground in a chaotic cascade. Evander and I simultaneously caught our breath, and I realized that at some point we had clasped hands as we worked together.
The force vanished as quickly as it had come. The scattered pages settled, but neither of us moved to gather them, nor spoke in the heavy silence that followed. The failed spell lingered in the air, humming faintly beneath the quiet…as though the magic hadn’t fully decided whether it had ended or merely paused.
Evander exhaled slowly, dropping my hand without seeming to realize he’d held it. His shoulders drooped, and I felt a rush of sympathy, wondering how many times he had tried to cast a spell only for it to end in failure.
After a moment, he finally stirred, reaching past me to steady one of the fallen books. His arm brushed mine and he stilled, pausing to look at me. In the depths of his grey eyes I saw the anguish of his disappointment, the doubt that came from constant failure…and something more. Deep inside glowed a spark of warmth, as though an ember waited to be fanned into flame. I found myself wondering what that would look like, an Evander who was confident, kind, and awake. Would our moments of connection have a chance to grow into something more?
This is a dream, I reminded myself. Which meant I didn’t have to guard myself so carefully. Dangerous logic, but one I found myself yearning to embrace.
In an effort to resist the temptation to look at him, I turned my attention to the scattered mess around us. “Was your goal to awaken the library?”
“No, the kingdom.” Evander exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “At least it was closer than the last attempt.”
“That was closer?”
“Considerably. Normally nothing occurs, but the magic actually activated this time. Though I’m not sure it did anything…” He stilled abruptly, his shoulders tensing. “Listen. Can you hear that?”
His gaze shifted towards the open window, where the brambles parted just enough to reveal the world beyond. I held myself still, straining to listen. At first, there was nothing except the quiet rhythm of our breathing and the faint rush of my heartbeat filling the silence.
Then somewhere in the distance, a soft, clear sound echoed through the stillness—a bird’s call. The sound didn’t fade or dissolve into the stillness, but lingered, bright and distinct, as though it belonged to something real that refused to be forgotten.
Evander inhaled sharply. “Did you—” But he was already moving, crossing the room with a sudden urgency and pushing recklessly past the curtain of brambles. I hurried after him, my pulse quickening with an anticipation I couldn’t yet name.
Together, we looked out. The landscape had changed—not in form, but in presence. The hills still rolled into the distance and the forests still stretched beneath the gathering twilight, but they no longer felt suspended in stillness. The trees stirred, their leaves shifting in soft, deliberate motion. A breeze caressed the land, visible now in the subtle ripple of branches and grass, asthough the world itself had finally drawn breath. The sun had set and darkness was encroaching, yet it felt like the dawn of a new day.
Another birdsong sounded, closer this time, followed by another. The silence that had once blanketed everything fractured, giving way to something gentler and unmistakably alive.
