The city lights blurred through the car windows as Amelia drove, her grip on the steering wheel tight, her movements sharp and deliberate. Neither of them spoke. The weight of Nathaniel's words still lingered between them, thick and suffocating.
Celeste sat beside her, staring down at the crack on her wrist. It had grown. She could see it now even in the dim lighting, faint but undeniable—a hairline fracture stretching just a little further than before.
She curled her fingers into a fist, trying to suppress the unease curling in her stomach.
Nathaniel had said they were running out of time.
She had felt it before—the subtle shifts, the way the world seemed to hold its breath around her. She didn't want to believe it, but deep down, she knew.
Something was unraveling.
Amelia pulled up to a quiet, empty lot on the outskirts of the city. The street lights flickered above them, casting long, eerie shadows across the pavement.
Nathaniel was already waiting. He stood by his car, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. His presence was steady, unshaken, as if he had expected them all along.
Amelia stepped out first, slamming the door shut behind her. Celeste followed, her pulse quickening.
"You have one minute," Amelia said coldly.
Nathaniel let out a sigh. "I don't need a minute." He turned his gaze to Celeste. "I need her to listen."
Celeste swallowed, her throat dry. "We're here. So talk."
Nathaniel studied her for a long moment before speaking. "I know you think I stopped you back there because I wanted to control the situation. But I did it because if you had stepped into that warehouse, you wouldn't have walked out."
Amelia scoffed. "You don't know that."
Nathaniel's eyes darkened. "I do." He looked at Celeste again, his expression heavy. "They weren't just after you, Celeste. They knew what you were."
Celeste's breath caught. "And what am I?"
Nathaniel exhaled, glancing at Amelia before turning back to Celeste. "You're not just someone who was brought into this world through magic. You are magic. And the moment you start unraveling, so does everything that tethered you here."
The words sent an icy shiver down Celeste's spine.
Amelia frowned. "What are you saying?"
Nathaniel hesitated. Then, carefully, he said, "Celeste is a manifestation. A creation of something far greater than we understand." His gaze was steady, unwavering. "She wasn't just summoned here. She is here instead of something—or someone—else."
A heavy silence fell.
Celeste felt the world tilt slightly beneath her feet. "What does that mean?"
Nathaniel's face was grim. "It means that your presence here is unnatural. And nature has a way of correcting itself."
Amelia's stomach twisted. "No." She shook her head. "That's not—She's real."
"I never said she wasn't." Nathaniel's voice was calm but firm. "But something else should have taken her place. And the longer she stays, the more the world fights back."
Celeste's mind reeled. The crack on her wrist. The way things felt off. The way she had been feeling… incomplete.
The world was correcting itself.
By erasing her.
Amelia took a step forward, fury flashing in her eyes. "Then how do we stop it?"
Nathaniel held her gaze. "I don't know if we can."
Celeste's breath hitched.
Amelia clenched her fists. "That's not good enough."
Nathaniel sighed, running a hand down his face. "There might be a way. But it comes with consequences." He looked at Celeste again. "You need to choose whether you fight to stay or let the world take back what it lost."
Celeste's heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Because for the first time, she wasn't sure what the right choice was.
—
The drive back to Amelia's apartment was silent, tense. The city stretched out before them, glittering and alive, but Celeste couldn't feel its warmth.
Amelia's grip on the wheel was tight, her knuckles pale. Celeste could sense the anger radiating off of her—anger at Nathaniel, at the situation, at the universe itself.
When they finally reached the apartment, Amelia killed the engine and sat there, staring blankly ahead. The only sound was the faint hum of traffic in the distance.
"Say something," Celeste whispered.
Amelia exhaled sharply, turning to face her. "I don't accept this." Her voice was raw, trembling with restrained emotion. "I don't accept that you're just—just fading away like you were never meant to be here."
Celeste bit her lip. "But what if I wasn't?"
Amelia's expression crumpled, pain flashing across her face. "You are. You're here. You matter." She reached for Celeste's hand, squeezing it like she was trying to anchor her in place. "We're going to fix this. I don't care what it takes."
Celeste felt the warmth of Amelia's touch, grounding her, but in the back of her mind, the fear remained.
Because the crack on her wrist was no longer a thin fracture.
It was spreading, slow and unstoppable, like the first thread unraveling from a tapestry.
And she didn't know if there was a way to stitch herself back together before it was too late.