Celeste didn't sleep.
She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the night press down on her. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the city filtering through the window. She could hear Amelia's breathing from across the room—slow, steady, but not peaceful. Neither of them had found peace after Nathaniel's words.
She lifted her wrist, holding it up against the dim light. The crack had grown. It no longer looked like a simple fracture—it branched out, delicate and intricate, like veins of glass threatening to shatter.
A reminder. A countdown.
She clenched her fist, lowering her arm to her chest.
She had never feared disappearing before. Not truly. The thought had always been a distant, surreal concept. But now, it was creeping closer, a shadow at the edges of her existence, waiting to swallow her whole.
A quiet shift of movement.
Celeste turned her head to see Amelia sitting up, pushing the blankets off. Her hair was a mess, her shoulders tense, but her eyes burned with determination.
"You're still awake," Celeste whispered.
"So are you."
Amelia stood, grabbing the thick book she had abandoned on the nightstand. She flipped through the pages with frantic energy, searching for something—anything.
Celeste sat up. "Amelia—"
"There has to be a way," Amelia muttered. "A spell, a ritual, something. Nathaniel said this was a correction, but that doesn't mean we can't stop it." She shoved a hand through her hair. "I won't let this happen."
Celeste's heart ached at the desperation in her voice. "You don't even know what we're looking for.". Amelia turned to her, eyes fierce. "Then we find out."
Celeste hesitated. "And if there isn't a way?" Amelia froze. For a second, the mask of determination cracked, and fear bled through. She swallowed hard. "There has to be.". Celeste reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "I don't want you to fight for something impossible."
Amelia's grip tightened. "Then tell me you don't want to stay.". Celeste parted her lips—but the words wouldn't come. Because she did want to stay. She wanted more nights like this, more moments, more time.
But if the world was trying to erase her, how could she fight something so much bigger than herself?
A knock at the door made them both freeze.
Amelia turned toward it, her body tensing. It was nearly three in the morning. No one would be visiting at this hour. Celeste's pulse quickened. "Did you—". Amelia shook her head. She hadn't called anyone.
Another knock. Slow. Deliberate.
Amelia moved first, stepping carefully toward the door, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Celeste followed, every muscle in her body taut with apprehension.
Amelia hesitated before unlocking the door, then pulled it open just enough to see—
Nathaniel.
His expression was grim, his coat dusted with light rain, his eyes flickering between them before settling on Celeste.
"We don't have time," he said. Amelia scowled. "What are you talking about?"
Nathaniel stepped inside without waiting for permission, shutting the door behind him. "You're not the only one looking for answers.". Celeste's breath caught. "Who else?"
Nathaniel turned to her, his jaw tight. "The people who tried to take you in that warehouse."
A cold chill ran down her spine. Amelia crossed her arms. "And what do they want?" Nathaniel hesitated. "The same thing I do." He exhaled. "To keep you from disappearing."
Celeste's stomach twisted. "Why would they care about that?". Nathaniel's gaze darkened. "Because they're the ones who summoned you in the first place."
Silence crashed over the room. Celeste's mind spun.
The woman at the gallery. The stolen painting. The figures in the warehouse. They knew. They had been watching her, waiting—because she wasn't just a byproduct of magic. She was theirs. Amelia took a slow, measured breath. "You knew this."Nathaniel didn't deny it. Celeste took a step back, nausea rising in her throat. "You knew I wasn't just… an accident."
Nathaniel's face was unreadable. "You were never an accident." His voice was firm, steady. "You were created for a reason. And if you don't want to disappear, we need to find out what that reason is.", Celeste swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists. Amelia's voice was like steel. "Then tell us where to start."
Nathaniel's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, quietly—
"With the people who summoned you."
Celeste's pulse pounded in her ears. "And you know who they are?"Nathaniel exhaled. "I have an idea."
Amelia stepped forward. "Then tell us."
He hesitated, glancing at Celeste before answering. "They're more than just collectors, more than just people who dabble in magic. They're scholars of it. A secret society of sorts." His voice dropped lower. "And they have a vested interest in you.", Celeste's mouth went dry. "Why?"
Nathaniel studied her for a long moment. "Because you're their proof.", Celeste's heartbeat stuttered. "Proof of what?", Nathaniel's gaze was unreadable. "That magic can create life."
The room seemed to shrink, the air too thick to breathe.
Amelia's grip tightened at her side. "That's impossible."Nathaniel shook his head. "No, it's not. You exist, Celeste."
Celeste's stomach twisted. She had never questioned why she came into existence—only how. Only what it meant for her now. But if she was proof of something bigger, something dangerous, Then her life wasn't just hers anymore.
Amelia's voice was sharp. "So what does that mean for her?"Nathaniel's expression darkened. "It means they won't let her go."
The words settled like ice in Celeste's veins. She had thought the crack on her wrist was the biggest threat. That disappearing was the worst thing that could happen.
But now she realized—
Being erased wasn't her only fate.
Being claimed was just as terrifying.