I just have to trust myself.
And I can. It’s possible. Hasn’t the last week shown me this? That I have the capability of placing trust in my own choices? And if anyone believes in me, it’s William. He’s given me so much in his short time here. I hold on to the hope that what I’m about to do will fix everything.
I can’t help glancing back. Sumner watches me from the safe distance, but he looks like he’s seconds away from rushing to my side. His restraint wanes, and my panic rises.
The wind is a force. I’m not sure he can hear me, but I try anyway.
“I could never forget you,” I yell, echoing his words he’d whispered to me in the dark.
My shoes tear across the snow-cushioned ground as I sprinttoward William. An ache sears hot in my thighs as I charge up the incline and explode through the clearing. Icy air turns sharp when it hits my lungs, transforming into loud gasps when I exhale. I don’t stop. I’m terrified of what happens if I do.
Overhead, the aurora proceeds to rotate into a narrow typhoon. Bright and forever mesmerizing, this display is my guiding force. Adrenaline surges through my veins. And then, up ahead, I see him.
William’s hands are clasped around his hat. His mouth parts in astonishment as I close in. “You mustn’t be here.”
“I’m part of it,” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “This energy—or magnetic vortex—we’re connected.”
He draws a hand over his heart. “You’re certain?”
“I think so,” I get out.
Distress appears between his brows. “Would it mean you’d travel to 1859?”
A gust of wind tears through us. I shiver. “That, I don’t know.”
His face dissolves into an expression of earnest courage. “Whatever’s next, we’ll face it together.”
“We will.” My heart rollicks with unrelenting fear. “I need to see your journal.”
He pulls it from his coat and hands it to me. I use Sumner’s pen to scribble a hasty message on the last blank page, then pass it back to him. As he tucks it into his pocket, I cast my gaze to the sky. Wind tangles my hair.
I move an inch closer. “Did you ever question why you ended up here?”
William tightens his coat around him. “Often.”
“And you know?” When he shakes his head I say, “Ivernia is only here because of you.”
His next word comes out in a delicate puff of air. “Me.”
Suddenly, the spiraling light begins to slow. Its color drains as if evaporating into thin air, threatening to leave us drenched in darkness. The wind dies. Before we have a chance to understand what’s happening, there’s a horrible metallic screeching sound. The isoborometer rattles. The motion is so intense that its outer paneling jiggles loose.
No, no,no.
On instinct I drop to my knees and wrap my hands around the exterior walls, holding the pieces together. William’s next to me in a heartbeat. My brain searches for an answer, but the screeching stops almost as soon as it began. The walls thrum with a mystifying vibration beneath my palms. I feel the gears activate. A mechanical whirring sounds.
Slowly, the aurora returns. And as we squint out into the universe, ribbons of color stream against the night sky, twisting downward into the unusual spiral as it follows this energetic pull.
William reaches to help me, but I shake my head. “I’ve got it—whatever I’m doing is working,” I shout above the wind. “Don’t be afraid.”
I’m not sure if I’m saying it for William, or because I need to hear it, too.
Concern creases his forehead. “How should we know what to do?”
The question suddenly feels much larger than this singular moment. The answer seems so obvious.
“Maybe we don’t,” I say. “Maybe we trust everything we’ve already done.”
As my words sink in, his eyes soften. “Though it was through the most peculiar circumstance, I’m grateful our fates intertwined.”
