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Kerrigan jutted her jaw forward and went to Wynter’s side. Fordham followed, looking none too pleased, but at the same time, interested. Like he hadn’t believed Wynter until that moment. No wonder she’d gained so many followers so quickly.
“What do I do?”
Wynter gestured to where her hand was on the wall. “You cannot see the magic, but its signature matches your own. A bright golden that shines like the sun. The crack is like a fissure in rock. A jagged edge in an otherwise clear film.” She took Kerrigan’s hand and pushed it against the place that she claimed was a rift in the magical barrier that had endured for nearly a thousand years. “Right here.”
Kerrigan closed her eyes, feeling the current of the thing. The wrongness of it. The perfectly rightness of it at the same time. A buzzing and zap against her skin, as if it recognized her. Or was warning her. She wasn’t sure which or if it was both. But it certainly gave off a very chilling vibe. She hadn’t liked coming through or touching it at all, if she were honest, but she was in too deep now.
But it didn’t feel any different. There wasn’t this mysterious gap that Wynter had claimed she could find. Even if her hand pushed through the barrier that was there to hold her in.
“Dig deep. Feel the part of yourself that is the same,” Wynter whispered beside her. “Like calls to like. Answer the call.”
Kerrigan furrowed her brow and pushed deeper in herself. She had no idea what she was doing. And frankly, she felt a little silly, standing with her hand in front of a barrier that she could walk through. But there was a smidgen of resistance right before she would push over, and she concentrated on that.
The resistance was like a jelly right before a fork pierced it—wiggly and amorphous. If she pushed, she’d cut the thing in half. But it was thin air. There wasn’t anything else to feel, except the occasional zap.
She gasped and pulled back. “It’s not there.”
Kerrigan wiped her forehead. She’d been concentrating so intensely that she’d begun to sweat and not even realized the strain.
“There you have it,” Fordham said. “Can you stop this charade?”
“You tried once,” Wynter said, ignoring her brother. “Try again. Really concentrate. I can see the break. I want you to feel it. To take it in your hand and rip it open from the inside. The spell will shatter around you.”
Kerrigan looked at her skeptically. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve been researching this wall longer than you’ve been alive,” she said calmly. Though her cool veneer was slipping as the crowd behind them whispered at Kerrigan’s failed attempt.
“Silence,” Aisling called before Wynter had to. “Give the girl another chance.”
“Go on,” Wynter said encouragingly.
Fordham shook his head. “You don’t have to do it.”
But there was a mob between them and the door. If she didn’t try again, they weren’t going to let her leave.
“I’ll try one more time,” Kerrigan said.
Fordham’s features hardened, and Wynter smiled triumphantly.
She ignored them both and held her hand back out, letting her eyes close and going to that place within herself where her magic settled. She reached into the well, and her magic answered bright and vibrant. She’d been careful not to use it here since Wynter’s proclamation in the woods. It answered her like a beacon home. Then, she put both of her hands in the empty space once more. She reached for that rip in the world that would set them all free. She breathed in sharply.
“Yes,” Wynter gasped.
She could feel it. She could feel exactly what Wynter was talking about. But it wasn’t a break from this side of the wall. It was crumbling from the outside in and not the other way around.
Kerrigan pulled back. Wynter argued behind her, and Fordham shouted right back, but Kerrigan wasn’t listening. She wasn’t done. She stepped through the barrier and out onto the stone balcony. A well of shouts followed her casual step across the barrier. Anger and excitement and fear, all a chorus that echoed through her brain. The expectations of so many people, all in one place.
“What are you doing, Kerrigan?” Fordham asked.
But she didn’t answer him; she brought her hand back up to that rift. Felt the seams of it wrap around her like a gentle embrace. There it was. This was the crack that Wynter had seen. A fracture years in the making. It was as if the spreading of the magic around the balcony had pulled it too tight. Like stretching pie dough to its absolute thinnest and praying to any god who would listen that it wouldn’t break.
Except here, she wanted to exploit that weakness and take the whole damn thing down with her.
Kerrigan leaned into it, took a deep breath, and then pulled her hand down. Nothing happened. The moment of anticipation popped like a bubble. She opened her eyes, deflated. It wouldn’t work. Not like this. And she didn’t know enough about this magic to make it work for her.
