I wrap my arms around Jack, and just like that, I can breathe. Far easier than I ever have before. For the first time in my life, I’m daring to believe that everything just might turn out okay.
There is a future for me, and it might actually be good.
“Right then,” Silas says, wiping blood from his hands with a cloth that materialises from nowhere. “Shall we get back to saving the world? I believe we have portals to close.”
“Let’s move to a better location first!” Harlen says sternly.
Cai laughs, the sound bright and alive. “Yes. Let’s finish this.”
And for the first time since this whole mad endeavour began, I truly believe we can.
Chapter thirty-eight
Jack
I’m following Dyfri as he zips through portal after portal, my stomach lurching with each transition between realities. The sensation never gets easier, a moment of weightlessness followed by the jarring snap back into existence somewhere entirely different.
One second we were in the abandoned shopping mall, stepping over Cai’s blood still pooling on the cracked tiles, the next we stumbled through what looked like a shimmering doorway into a London alley that reeked of rotting food and exhaust fumes.
There was a lightning-fast discussion between the magic wielders. Far too rapid-fire for me to follow, and then everyone broke off in different directions, and we’ve been portal jumping ever since.
My legs are shaking from the repeated dimensional shifts, but Dyfri doesn’t slow down. If anything, he’s moving faster, each portal opening and closing behind us with barely enough time for me to stumble through. The magic radiating from him is palpable now, crackling in the air like electricity before a lightning strike.
Another portal. This time we emerge in what appears to be someone’s living room, flowered wallpaper and familyphotos that I don’t have time to process before we’re moving again. The elderly woman in the armchair doesn’t even look up from her television program as we disappear through her back wall.
Nobody has stopped to explain what’s going on, and I’m fine with that. More than fine. I can see from Dyfri’s rigid posture, from the way his jaw is clenched, that time is slipping away from us like sand through an hourglass. Every second we waste is a second closer to failure.
MI5‘s attack has changed everything. The careful timeline we’ve been working toward, the planned coordination for the summer solstice when the cosmic energies would be perfectly aligned, all of it is out the window. I don’t need to know anything about magic to understand that. We’re no longer waiting for the perfect astronomical conditions. We’re closing the portals today. Right now. Ready or not. Before our enemies can destroy us completely.
The sheer magnitude of what’s happening hits me like ice water in my veins. This is it. This is actually happening. Not in weeks or months when we’ve had time to prepare properly, but right now, with half our allies potentially dead or scattered and our enemies knowing exactly what we’re trying to do.
The weight of it crashes down on me all at once. If we fail today, there won’t be another chance. Earth remains under fey occupation forever.
My hands are trembling as I follow Dyfri through another shimmering portal. I clench them into fists, trying to force some steadiness back into my limbs. This is no time to fall apart. Dyfri needs me steady, needs me focused.
But Christ, I’m terrified. Terrified and dazed, running on pure adrenaline and absolute trust in the man I’m following through impossible doorways. The logical part of my brain is screaming that this is insane, that we’re rushing into the most complex uprising in history without proper preparation or coordination.
The rest of me doesn’t care. Dyfri moves with such certainty, each portal opening and closing behind us with mathematical precision. Whatever plan is unfolding in his head, he’s executing it with the focus of someone who’s been preparing for this moment his entire life.
We go through another portal, this one feeling different somehow. More substantial. More significant. The air tastes different on the other side, ancient and heavy with the weight of centuries.
I blink, and suddenly I’m standing in Buckingham Palace. The current home of the Fey Court.
The shock of recognition hits me like a physical blow. We’re in the heart of the British establishment, in a room where kings and queens have held court for generations. The room is ornate beyond belief. Gold leaf catches the light from crystal chandeliers. Every surface speaks of power and privilege and the accumulated weight of empires.
It’s the sort of formal receiving room where world leaders have met to discuss matters of international importance. Where decisions have been made that affected millions of lives.
Being here feels preordained.
Three figures are waiting for us, and I recognise them immediately. Dyfri’s brothers. The princes of the fey realm, here in the seat of human power.
Rhydian stands near the massive windows, his imposing presence seeming to fill the entire room. He’s radiating the kind of authority that makes people instinctively step back. But there’s tension in his shoulders I’ve never seen before, a hairline crack in his usual perfect composure.
Mabon looks younger and more nervous than I’ve ever seen him, pacing near the fireplace with jerky, anxious movements. His usually careful court mask has slipped, revealing genuine fear underneath.
Tristan sits in one of the ornate chairs, but his usual cheerful demeanour is nowhere to be found. His red hair is dishevelled, his clothes rumpled, and there’s something wild in his eyes that makes my stomach clench with unease.
Selwyn is not here, and his absence speaks volumes. Presumably, he is enacting his part of the plot. But are his brothers thinking? Do they know they have been betrayed?
