He seemed captured by our conjoined hands, but after several breathless moments he lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Is this alright?” he asked.
I nodded, though the motion felt small compared to everything I couldn’t quite put into words. Time slipped strangely after that. I wasn’t sure how long we remained there, standing side by side beneath the endless sky.
For once, I didn’t feel the urge to move, to investigate, or to uncover hidden secrets. Instead, I found myself wanting to remain exactly where I was—in this moment, with him—and discover where it might lead if I simply…stayed.
I had never been one to use my powers to capture and preserve my own memories, but I wanted to remember this one. To hold it somewhere safe so that I could return to it again and again. For the first time since entering this strange, impossible world, I wasn’t thinking about how to leave it.
As if this unspoken wish acted as a key, the night suddenly shifted. A strange familiarity brushed against my thoughts—subtle at first, then sharper, like a memory trying to surface through water. I felt myself being pulled into a recollection I hadn’t consciously discovered, but whose magic I recognized as my own…though I’d kept hidden so long, it’d become forgotten. As though the awakening spell Evander and I had performed awoke a moment from my past I didn’t realize was a part of me, working on me as it had in the slumbering world.
I stood on the same balcony, but it had changed—the stone railing beneath my hands became smoother rather thancrumbling, the castle behind me had been restored to its former glory. The air carried the faint warmth of late evening instead of the cool hush of night, while the stars above dimmed, as though they had not yet fully claimed the sky.
“Back again so soon?” The voice came from beside me, familiar and teasing in a way that struck something deep in my heart.
I turned and found Evander standing there, though not as he was in either world. There was no weight in his posture, no quiet restraint in his expression. Instead he leaned casually against the railing, watching me with open amusement, as though this moment between us was anticipated and thoroughly welcome.
“I’m only easy to capture when my mark is insistent on waiting for me,” I heard myself reply. “It’s you who keeps leaving your window unguarded. How can I resist your generous invitation to come and steal?”
His mouth curved upwards. “It seems only natural to reward your persistence.” He straightened and approached, each step slow and deliberate, offering me plenty of time to get away. But I didn’t move, allowing him to reach me and lightly encircle my wrist.
“Caught you again. You lose yet another round.”
For a moment I found myself transfixed by the sight of his fingers encircling mine before I slowly met his gaze. “I suppose I’ll have to keep breaking in until I succeed.”
“You’ve already lost,” he added. “You just haven’t admitted it yet.”
“Have I?” I countered, stepping closer to meet him—not cautious or measured, but certain in a way that sent an aching recognition through me. “Or have you simply grown too accustomed to me being here?”
He didn’t answer, but something shifted in his expression—the same longing I felt coursing through me. The space between us dwindled effortlessly, but before I could explore what lay on the other side, the memory fractured and the warmth vanished.
The night snapped back into place. I blinked, my breath catching as the present rushed in around me. The stone beneath my hands was rough again, worn by time, the air had cooled, the stars burned brightly. Beside me, Evander stood exactly as before, but something between us had shifted, changed by the memory I recognized but couldn’t remember.
When my vision cleared, a faint, familiar wave of drowsiness brushed against my thoughts. I swayed slightly before I could stop myself. Evander’s hand instantly closed around mine.
“Are you alright, Mirelle?”
“I’m fine.”
The words came softer than I intended, as though they had to travel too far to reach him. It was difficult to speak. The world felt strangely distant, blurring at the edges, as though I stood at the fragile threshold between wakefulness and sleep.
“You’re transitioning between realms much more frequently,” he said, a note of anxiety breaking through his usual composure. “I don’t know how much longer it can go on.” His grip tightened, as though he feared I might slip away if he let go. “Stay awake,” he added, more quietly now—closer to a plea than a command.
I let out a small, tired breath. “You say that as if I have any control over it.”
A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose you don’t.” His gaze lingered on me, as though trying to memorize something he might lose. “I should be grateful for every moment you awaken, but each time you fall back asleep…I’m afraid the next time, you won’t wake up.”
“I’ll see you again.” I wasn’t sure why I said it, only that I needed it to be true. But even as the promise left my lips, something inside me pulled in two directions.
For the first time since entering this world, part of me didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to remain here—with him. And yet, another part of me still clung to the other version of Evander waiting beyond this place…to the world I had been so certain was real.
But in this moment, I wasn’t so certain anymore.
His expression softened. “As long as you keep coming back.” The words should have offered reassurance, but instead something in his voice made them sound like a quiet plea.
The drowsiness deepened, pulling at me more insistently now. The stars above blurred, their sharp brilliance dimming as the world around me began to fade. Without thinking, I tightened my grip on his hand. I wanted to ask him to stay with me until I fell asleep—to anchor me here, just a little longer—but I feared revealing how much he’d come to mean to me if I said it aloud.
But I didn’t need to. As though he had heard the unspoken wish, Evander didn’t pull away. Instead, his hold tightened and he leaned closer.
“Mirelle,” he murmured. Something in his tone cut through the haze, drawing my attention back to him. “There isn’t much time left.”
