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With my magic restored, I was finally able to block Isabelle and get a good night’s sleep. Jenks purred beside me as dawn slowly broke in the sky. The ritual had put a strain on him as well. White beams from the winter sun streamed through the windows, casting new hope on my darkest days.
For the past two weeks, I’d attempted to break into the dreamscape, ready to end Roarke’s curse. But just as I’d been able to block Isabelle here in the real world, she’d been able to block me there. But today, as I lay in bed with Mama’s notebook clutched in my hands, I finally knew what I had to do. She and Keelyn had been right. I needed to give my body time enough to recover, and after so many failed attempts, it was also time to use my heart and my head.
I had no idea walking away from the Weaver’s magic meant I was relinquishing my own, and I was sure Roarke didn’t know either. To be honest, I thought it was just another side effect of what Isabelle had done to me. But once again, thanks to Mama’s foresight, Keelyn’s intervention had literally saved my life.
After reading the rest of Mama’s notes about how the Atwoods, too, had been chosen by the gods, it became clear that with Agitha’s shard, I should be able to enter the gate itself.
Easing from bed, I pulled on my winter robe and rushed to stoke the fire. Testing my magic, I flicked my wrist at the hearth and smiled when the flames burst back to life.
After a hearty breakfast of bacon, oatmeal, toast, and tea, I showered, dressed, and gathered my things.
Laying out a black altar cloth on the dining room table, I spread out my tools—my regular altar too small to fit everything I’d need.
I marked each direction with candles of green, red, yellow, and blue, then rang a bell, activating each one.
Guardians of the north, south, east, and west, bless this house and this quest. Protect me from any who seek to do harm, guarded by my familiar to sound the alarm.
Jenks meowed from beneath the table, curled up and ready to do his part.
Lighting my smudge stick, I used the eagle feather I’d foraged from the woods last spring to wave the smoke into a circle around the space.
Alight upon your sacred wing. Carry the air as it clings. Protect this space and hide me well. Blessed by the gods, we seal this spell.
A ring of smoke hung in the air, encircling the table at chest height.
Sprinkling salt into the black bowl, I filled it with water, then pricked my thumb with my athame. Three drops of blood dripped into the bowl, and I waited for the surface to calm. As the ripples settled, I pressed my hand to the picture of the Weaver’s Gate I’d drawn, holding the remnant of Agitha’s wand tightly in my other hand.
I peered into the dark surface of the scrying bowl.
God and Goddess, allow me to see, the access being hidden from me. Grant me a boon, from above, to save the one that I do love.
The water rippled in the bowl, a tiny pinprick of light forming at the bottom. Squinting, I leaned in closer for a better look.
Spreading through the water, the light continued to grow, filling the black bowl with a silver energy I’d only felt once before.
A beam so bright I had to shield my eyes shot out of the vessel, piercing my ceiling and continuing straight into the sky.
I looked back to the bowl, noticing movement in the bottom again. A dark square formed at the base of the light, and I gasped. I was looking out the door from inside the Weaver’s Gate to the barren landscape beyond—where Isabelle stood alone.
Pulling up the hood of the white cloak my mother gifted me when I first accepted my magic, I closed my eyes and pressed my face into the beam of light. It was time to bring this to an end.
Transported, my feet touched solid ground as a warm sensation bloomed around me.
Slowly, tentatively, I opened my eyes.
I was standing inside the gate, the cosmos flooding in from above, pouring the gods’ power straight into my soul. I looked out the open door, noticing Isabelle racing toward me as fast as she could. Dark, lightning-streaked clouds lined the sky behind her, their angry red tint transforming the landscape into her personal realm of nightmares. Without warning, she flung out her hand, lightning zinging past my head, as she raced toward the gate.
Chunks of mountain rained down upon me, forcing me to take cover behind the pedestal in the center of the room.
“Milly, I have to give you credit. Coming here was incredibly brave but also incredibly stupid,” Isabelle taunted over the chaos outside. “You will never stop me. You’re just as weak and useless as ever,” she screamed, vitriol spewing from her lips as more lightning crashed around me.
Peeking around from my hidden position, tears welled in my eyes as I watched her creep closer to the mountain’s base. Yes, my magic was back, but her words sliced through any bravery I’d conjured up to come here, leaving me raw and terrified.
I raised a shaking hand, sending out a blast of power to stop her, but she just kept coming. A vicious wind stirred up debris behind her, pulling lightning and sand into a glass-pierced tornado that followed in her wake.
Ducking back behind the podium, I pulled my knees to my chest, curling into a ball and crying in earnest. Everything I tried and planned for was all for nothing. Breaking the curse. Saving Roarke… None of it would happen, and it was all because of me. All because Isabelle was right. I was never strong enough to be his queen.
“Time to say goodbye, Milly. You don’t belong here anymore.”
