“Bo, what… what’s happening…?” I breathed, panic and awe colliding so violently that it made my chest ache.
“It’s okay, Girly… just let it happen,” he said, his voice threaded with something dangerously close to wonder.
“Just don’t stop.” The same electric sensation surged through me again, far stronger this time. As if something deep inside my chest had been torn wide open. The room tilted violently, the stone floor seeming to fall away beneath my feet as my balance vanished.
I screamed.
And then the world disappeared with it.
When reality snapped back into focus, it did so abruptly enough to knock the breath from my lungs. I staggered forward, my eyes flying open as familiar shapes came into focus around me, my kitchen counter now directly in front of my face.
My kitchen!
The soft hum of the refrigerator filled the air, grounding me with the normalcy of it. And there on the counter sat the dirty dish from breakfast, exactly where I had left it. The sight of it hit me harder than anything else, my knees threatening to buckle as the shock caught up with me.
I swayed, barely managing to stay upright, just as something small and solid bumped into my shin. I looked down, and therewas Bo staring up at me, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open in stunned disbelief.
For a long, suspended moment, neither of us spoke… until…
“You did it,”he finally whispered.
A shaky, hysterical laugh bubbled out of me.
“I guess I did,” I said, disbelief no longer an option.
However, there was one thought that still clung to me, and I knew it was also one that would, no doubt, continue to haunt me. To chase me in my dreams.
I had managed to escape, but what if there was a next time? And what if, when that next time came along… What if…I didn’t want to escape him?
For a long moment, I simply stood there, staring at the familiar lines of my kitchen as if they might dissolve if I blinked. The faint ticking of the clock on the wall, even the dull glow of the under-cabinet light felt unreal after the suffocating weight of Oblivion’s office. It was all too ordinary, too normal, and yet that was exactly what made my chest ache with relief.
Home.
The word echoed through me, grounding in a way I hadn’t realized I desperately needed. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders sagging as the tension finally began to seep out of my body. My legs felt weak, my hands trembling faintly as I dragged them down my face and pressed my palms briefly to my eyes. When I lowered them again, Bo was still standing there, his gaze darting around my apartment as though he expected it to vanish just as abruptly as it had appeared.
“You did that,” he repeated again, his voice quieter now, respectful almost, as if echoing it might help him believe it.
“I don’t know how,” I admitted, my voice still unsteady as I glanced down at my hands. They looked the same as they always had, nothing remarkable about them at all. And yet they had just pulled us out of Hell itself. Or close enough to it that thedistinction felt irrelevant at this point. But I couldn’t help but ask myself,
Did that then make Oblivion the devil?
Bo let out a sharp breath and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Yeah, that’s going to be a problem,” he muttered, making me shake my head and scoff weakly, walking past him toward the living room before collapsing onto the couch. The cushions dipped familiarly beneath me, the scent of fabric softener and my shampoo wrapping around me like a promise that this was real. I was really here…Still alive.
“You’re telling me, I mean, what’s next? I touch something and accidentally summon a dragon!?” I exclaimed with a dramatic toss of my hands, making him scoff.
“As long as it’s not wearing a kilt and you can understand what it says…fucking McBain brothers,”Bo muttered this last part like I would know what he was going on about. Although what the fuck was that about a dragon wearing a kilt and talking? Honestly, I was too tired to do anything but offer him a look.
“Don’t ask,” he commented and, for once, I didn’t.
Bo followed a second later, clambering up beside me on the couch with far less grace. His earlier panic was finally bleeding off enough to make room for exhaustion. For a while, we just sat there, neither of us speaking, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the city below my apartment. At some point, the quiet became oppressive enough that I picked up the remote and put on a mindless reality TV show. I couldn’t even tell you what it was about, only that the overly dramatic voices and artificial arguments felt bizarrely soothing.
Eventually, my gaze drifted around the room, taking in the space with fresh eyes. My apartment wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination, but it was mine. Every inch of it was earned through years of saving and careful planning. The furniture was modern and comfortable, chosen because I liked it, not becauseit fit anyone else’s expectations. Clean lines, neutral colors, small pops of warmth scattered throughout in the form of cushions, artwork, and the odd sentimental piece I hadn’t quite been able to part with.
There were hints of my upbringing if you knew where to look. A small charm on a shelf, a pressed flower framed above the desk, things that tethered me quietly to my family without overwhelming the space. It wasn’t a witch’s home, not in the way my mother’s had been. Not heavy on herbs, candles, or incense. This was an office girl’s apartment, practical yet homely.A place I’d built for myself, piece by piece.
My bedroom, though, was another story entirely.
