I narrowed my eyes, wary, but slipped the dagger from my waistband. “Here,” I said, curt and cold.
Then I turned to Dancing Fire. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”
He shrugged, maddeningly casual.
That was all it took. I shot to my feet, heat flaring in my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We don’t exactlytalknow, do we?” he replied, strolling a few paces before leaning against the twisted trunk of a nearby oak. He tipped the jar back and drank deeply, letting out a smug “Ahh” when finished.
I clenched my fists. My jaw tightened.
John James’ eyes flicked between us, then dropped to the dagger in his hand.
“Watch, Alina.” John James gripped the hilt of my dagger and gave a gentle twist. The blade slid open, revealing a hidden hollow with a small, intricate keyhole. “The charm from the necklace fits here. The Timebound must draw blood from their hand and press it onto the pendant to activate it. Then, they insert the charm. After that, the Timeborne cuts their own hand and speaks the ancient words aloud. That’s what triggers the travel. Both go together. Always.”
I stared at him, my mind spinning. The logic, the ritual—it felt too surreal to grasp. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to believe it.
“We were brought here—my brother and I—when we were three,” he said softly, eyes shifting from the dirt at his feet to the gnarled tree where Dancing Fire stood, then out toward the far-off horizon. He never looked at me. “I stayed. He didn’t. But we share a face. A bond. And a fascination with time travel. There are… resources in the future. Things we don’t have here.”
My brow furrowed. “How do you know that? Have you been there?”
He hesitated. “I have connections.”
I wiped my forehead again, the heat relentless. Sweat dripped from my temples, trailing down my neck in salty streams. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
John James glanced over his shoulder like something—or someone—might be watching. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“If a Timeborne dies,” he said, “the Timebound is stuck. Trapped in that time forever.”
“What?” I stepped closer, heart hammering.
But something shifted in John James’ expression—frustration flaring beneath the surface. He waved his hand like he could swat my questions away.
“You must have more important things to do than interrogate me. You need to move on. Head to 1988.”
He turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm. “Wait! Why 1988?”
“That’s where my brother is. Based on my calculations, it has to be true.”
“Based on your calculations?” I snapped, eyes locking onto his. “You want me to leap into the future based on a theory? What if you’re wrong again—like you were about the 1400s?”
“You’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?” he said, voice tight. “What other choice do you have?”
Shock and confusion swirled through my chest. This was the same man who sent us chasing ghosts in the 1400s, and now he wanted blind faith?
“Do you even know if your brother remembers you exist?”
John James hesitated, then shook his head. “I highly doubt it. We were only three when we were torn apart.”
“Then why do you remember, and he doesn’t?”
Something dark flashed across his face. His jaw clenched. “Alina, enough with the questions. Just listen for once. Head to Canada. That’s where he was, last I heard.”
He paused, the edge softening in his voice. “Look, I’m your friend. Iamtrying to help you.”
“If you were my friend, you’d tell me the whole truth,” I snapped.
His gaze grew cold. “If I told you everything… I wouldn’t live much longer. I’d be dead.”
