The air between them seemed to thicken. Beth was acutely aware of how close they sat, of the intimacy created by the storm raging outside while they remained safe and warm within these ancient walls.
“I’m not sure I believe in destiny,” she said softly.
“Yet here you are,” he countered, “in a time not your own, speaking of stars and earth moving in ways no one has conceived.”
A particularly violent crack of thunder made Beth start as she sloshed wine on her gown.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, dabbing at the spreading stain.
Baldwin reached for a cloth, his fingers brushing hers as he helped blot the spill. The brief contact sent a jolt through her that had nothing to do with the lightning outside.
“I should go,” she said suddenly, standing. “The storm, I need to... observe it. For scientific purposes.”
Baldwin rose as well, his height making the room seem smaller. “Beth,” he said, the rare use of her name stopping her retreat. “Whatever you seek in this storm, be careful. The lightning strikes close tonight.”
Their eyes met, and Beth wondered if he somehow knew what she planned to attempt. The concern in his gaze made her chest ache.
“I’m always careful,” she lied, and slipped from the room.
The rain soakedher to the skin within moments of her reaching the small courtyard garden. She’d chosen this spot carefully, sheltered from view by stone walls, yet open to the sky. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating her makeshift apparatus. Copper wires arranged in a circle, vials of carefully prepared substances, and at the center, a small metal basin.
Her hands trembled as she worked, partly from the cold, partly from the enormity of what she was attempting. The conditions weren’t perfect. She lacked most of the chemicals from her lab, but the storm provided the energy she needed. If her theory was correct, the combination of electrical charge, certain chemical reactions, and perhaps... blood... might recreate whatever portal had sent her here. Her parents had to be frantic, wondering what had happened to her.
Thunder cracked directly overhead as she mixed the final compounds. Rain streamed down her face, plastering her hair to her scalp. The gown she wore was soaked, the heavy fabric clinging to her legs, hampering her movements.
“Come on,” she muttered, positioning the copper wires to better attract the lightning. “Just one good strike.”
As if in answer, the sky split open with a blinding flash. Beth gasped as electricity charged the surrounding air. Now or never. She pricked her finger with a small blade, letting three drops of blood fall into the mixture.
The solution bubbled and hissed, turning a familiar blue. Beth’s heart raced. It was working! She stepped into the center of the copper circle, holding her breath as another lightning bolt raced toward the earth.
The strike hit nearby, close enough that Beth felt the charge in her teeth. The mixture in the basin glowed eerily blue, exactly as it had in her lab that night. For one wild moment, she thought she glimpsed the fluorescent lights of her classroom, the familiar outline of her whiteboard.
Then... nothing.
The glow faded. The mixture stopped bubbling. Rain continued to pour, indifferent to her failure.
Beth stood frozen, water streaming down her face, mingling with tears she couldn’t hold back. It hadn’t worked. She was truly trapped here, centuries from everything she’d known.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, letting the rain wash away her hopes of return, before she became aware of a presence behind her.
“Beth.”
Baldwin stood at the garden entrance, soaked to the skin, his expression unreadable in the darkness. How long had he been watching?
“It didn’t work,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t go back.”
He moved toward her slowly, as one might approach a wounded animal. “Did you want to?”
The question hung between them, weighted with implications neither had voiced. Beth looked at the failed experiment, then back at Baldwin’s face, illuminated briefly by another flash of lightning.
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought I did, but now...”
He reached her side, rain streaming down his face. Without speaking, he gathered the copper wires and vials, dismantling her experiment with careful hands. When he’d cleared everything away, he turned to her again.
“Come inside,” he said simply, offering his hand.
Beth hesitated only a moment before placing her fingers in his. His hand was warm despite the rain, solid and real in a way that anchored her to this time, this place.
