Vivienne’s breath fogged as she whispered an old charm. Opal slid a travel spike into the earth and pinched the moon-silk line.
Our path would not slip. Lady Limora’s gaze sharpened into something like a vow.
Stella’s smile cooled like the weather.
“Well then,” she said, voice the kind of charming that once ended feuds and began legends, “let’s go invite our storm to tea.”
The shadow tilted, as if listening.
Across the field, something answered with a soft chime. It wasn’t close. Not far. Up north, where August forgot itself and the Glacial Hollow Forest sang under the breath of the world, the sound threaded the cold and tugged.
Keegan’s hand closed around mine.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Not remotely,” I said. “But I’m going anyway.”
The bramble mule tossed his garlanded head as if to say,Me too.
Skonk nodded at him solemnly, because of course this was now a pact. Twobble pushed his earmuffs tighter and whispered, “Adventure minus frostbite, please.”
“Stay close,” Nova said, staff lifting like a metronome for the road.
“Stay charming,” Stella added, and then winked, the old vampire’s smile catching light. “And if anyone from either realm tries to make it unpleasant, darlings, remember: we are not tourists. We belong in this or any magical realm.”
We stepped into the Northern Luminary as the last color slid out of August and the first secret slid toward us on a chill. The raven feather fluttered once on its blue thread, like a hand waving in the window of a moving train.
“Find me before he does,” the wind seemed to say.
We followed where the fabric pulled.
I was told that the moment before crossing was always the hardest.
The frost shimmered faintly beneath our boots, the air pulsed with something ancient and watchful. The cold here wasn’t the sharp bite of winter; it was quieter, like a hand pressing softly against your chest to see if you were real. I glanced up, searching for the faint ribbons of light that had shimmered above the field a moment ago, but they’d already thinned into threads and had woven back into the strange sky of the Glacial Hollows.
“What happens when we step across?” I asked, my voice smaller than I intended. “I mean, will we still be… us?”
Nova turned her face toward me, and the reflection of the light caught in her green eyes.
“Mostly,” she said. “The Luminary isn’t a place, Maeve. It’s a negotiation. Between whatisand what might be. Every realm that touches it, leaves a fingerprint, but it has no allegiance. It keeps itself balanced by refusing all bias.”
“That sounds like a trap,” Keegan said, his tone somewhere between suspicion and readiness.
Nova’s lips curved faintly. “It cannot trap what doesn’t trespass. The Luminary has no hunger for power, no loyalty tothe light or the shadow. It remembers everything and forgives nothing. Which,” she added, “is its own form of honesty.”
Stella drew her cloak tighter, eyes gleaming like polished garnet. “Darling, the last time I heard someone sayhonestyin that tone, they were preparing to ruin a man’s life and then send him on his way.”
Nova ignored her. “You will feel watched because you are. But it doesn’t judge. It measures. If your intent falters, it will push you back out. If your heart holds steady, it will open the path ahead.”
“That’s meant to make me feel better?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said simply.
And, strangely, it did.
The pressure in my chest loosened as the air itself had exhaled. Around us, frost whispered across the grass, etching faint sigils that vanished as soon as you noticed them. The boundary shimmered—neither wall nor door, but a veil woven of breath and memory.
Keegan reached for my hand. “Ready?”
