“Mayor Thorne is. . . occupied with other pressing municipal matters this morning,” he says, the slight pause before ‘occupied’ telling me everything I need to know about how prepared this response is. “This situation is well within my authority and ability to handle effectively.”
Sir’s tail flicks once, sharply, the sound like a whip crack in the quiet space.
“Of course she isn’t here,”Sir’s voice drips with disdain.“After all, one can’t be held accountable for incompetence if no one is brave enough to call her out on her inability to maintain basic ward integrity.”
Sir’s words only cement what I’m already thinking, confirming the suspicion that’s been growing in my mind since I walked in here.
Of course she’s not here. If she’s not present, she can’t be questioned about the ward failures. If she’s not here, she can’t be blamed for the security breach that should have been impossible under her watch. Which means there’s only one person left standing in the middle of this supernatural shitstorm, one convenient scapegoat for everyone’s fear and uncertainty.
Me.
I’m her perfect fall guy, and I’m sure she’s somewhere right now rubbing her hands together with barely concealed satisfaction. She didn’t plan this specific incident, but itfeeds perfectly into her existing narrative about my dangerous presence in Ruby Springs.
Montgomery lifts his hand slightly, fingers positioned in a gesture I don’t recognize, and with a quiet snap that seems to echo strangely in the small space, the world around us shifts into an unnatural stillness.
The couple freezes where they sit as if someone has pressed a cosmic pause button. The woman’s hand remains wrapped around her coffee mug, suspended mid-lift toward her lips, her mouth parted as though she was about to take a sip that will never come. The man is frozen mid-gesture, his eyes wide and staring directly at us, his expression locked in that moment of desperate confusion. Even the air itself seems to hold, suspended in a strange, crystalline quiet that presses against my ears like being submerged in deep water, muffling sound and sensation until everything feels distant and dreamlike.
“Was that really necessary, Councilman?” Ezra asks, his arms crossing over his chest as he frowns with obvious disapproval at the use of the councilman’s magic on unwilling subjects. There’s tension in his shoulders that suggests this kind of casual memory manipulation sits poorly with his moral compass.
“This situation is unprecedented in my thirty years of council service,” Montgomery replies, turning toward our small group now, the carefully maintained calm slipping just enough to reveal the genuine strain beneath his professional demeanor. “Unfortunately, Ezra, it’s the only way we can speak freely about magical matters without traumatizing these people further or risking exposure.”
Ezra nods curtly in acknowledgment, though his expression suggests he’s far from comfortable with this solution. His jaw is tight in the way it gets when he’s swallowing arguments he wants to make.
“The escalation is becoming impossible to ignore,” Lucien observes, his voice maintaining its usual smooth cadence though his gaze has sharpened to laser focus. “The ward failures are increasing in frequency and severity. This should not be possible with properly maintained barriers.”
“No, they shouldn’t be failing at all, but they are failing all the same,” Toni says from behind the counter, her arms crossing tightly over her chest in a defensive posture. Her punk rock exterior can’t quite hide the worry that’s etched into the lines around her eyes. “Something is definitely causing this escalation, and whatever it is, it’s getting progressively worse. We’re looking at a complete system breakdown if this continues.”
Montgomery exhales slowly, the sound heavy with exhaustion as he drags one hand down his face before straightening his shoulders with visible effort.
“The ward network and its maintenance are not technically within my purview as councilman,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that suggests this jurisdictional limitation has become a source of significant frustration. “I was sent here by the emergency protocols to adjust their memories and send them safely on their way. That’s the extent of my authority in this matter.”
The words hit me like a physical slap, the casual way he discusses violating these people’s minds making my stomach turn. Manipulating their memories, tampering with the fundamental structure of their thoughts and experiences, it can’t possibly be the only solution to this problem.
“You can’t be serious,” I step forward before I can stop myself, my hands lifting in a gesture of disbelief that encompasses the frozen couple and the moral enormity of what he’s suggesting. “You can’t just erase what happened to themlike it means nothing, like their experience and their right to remember their own lives is disposable.”
“We do not have a choice in this matter, Miss Thorne,” he replies, and the way he says my name carries the weight of accusation, like my very presence here has forced this situation upon everyone. There’s something in his tone that makes it clear he considers me at least partially responsible for creating this problem.
“There is always a choice,” I push back, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm and rational. “You’re talking about fundamentally altering someone’s mind, changing their perception of reality. That’s not a small thing. That’s not something you just do because it’s convenient.”
Ezra steps closer to me, his presence warm and steady at my back. His hand settles gently on my shoulder, grounding me before I can spiral into full righteous anger.
“It’s not erasure in the way you’re thinking about it,” he explains, his voice carrying that patient tone he uses when he’s trying to help me understand complex magical concepts. “It’s more like a recalibration of their experience. Their memories will adjust to something that makes sense within their existing understanding of reality. They’ll leave safely, they’ll arrive at their original destination on schedule, and they won’t carry the knowledge of this place with them to potentially expose our entire community.”
“That still doesn’t make it right,” I say, though I can hear my voice faltering as the practical reality of our situation begins to sink in despite my moral objections.
Sir’s voice cuts in before I can formulate any more arguments, his tone carrying the weight of centuries of experience with these kinds of impossible choices.
“It makes it necessary, Keisha. I’ve seen what happens when magical communities are exposed to the outside world, and Iassure you the alternative outcomes are far worse than a gentle memory adjustment. There truly is no other way, I’m afraid.”
My hands fall slowly back to my sides at his words, the fight draining out of me even as frustration continues to coil tighter beneath my skin like a living thing. I step away from Ezra’s comforting touch and press myself back against the wall, the cool wood offering little comfort against my spine as I try to steady my breathing and accept what’s about to happen.
I hate this. Every part of me hates this situation, the moral compromise, the violation of these innocent people’s autonomy. If Sir, with all his knowledge and experience can’t find a way out that’s less invasive, if Ezra with all his magical expertise says it’s the only viable option, then there truly is nothing I can do to change this outcome.
Montgomery doesn’t wait for any further protest from me or anyone else. He approaches the frozen couple with movements that are both gentle and efficient, placing two fingers lightly against the man’s temple first, then the woman’s. His voice drops into something softer, almost hypnotic, as he murmurs words in what sounds like Latin mixed with something older, something that makes the air around us shimmer slightly with released magic. The energy that flows from his hands is subtle but undeniable, threading through the space like invisible ripples spreading outward from dropped stones.
When he finally lowers his hands and steps back, the couple remains still for only a moment longer before the visible tension leaves their bodies completely. They both settle into what appears to be a peaceful, trance-like state, awake and breathing but completely compliant, their expressions vacant but not distressed.
“They will remember pulling off the road to rest at a scenic overlook they somehow missed on previous trips,” Ezra explains quietly, his voice carrying both relief and lingering discomfortwith the necessity of what we’ve just witnessed. “They’ll remember stretching their legs, perhaps buying coffee from a small roadside stand, then continuing their journey without any sense of lost time or supernatural interference.”
