Page 22 of Spellbinding Spirit

“Alright, Sally,” Sebastian says, setting the torch on the mattress next to us. The light wavers as it lands, casting flickering shadows on the far wall. His voice is steady but there’s tension in his shoulders. “We’re back. And we’ve got something to tell you.”

I clutch the bundle of papers on my lap, gripping the edges too tightly. My stomach twists and nervous energy humming through me. Tonight feels... more personal, like visiting friends.

I lower myself to the mattress cross-legged and spread the papers out in front of me: George’s profile, the court martial record, and my notes. They look small and inconsequential against the vastness of this space, but they hold everything we’ve learned and everything Sally needs to know.

My heart is racing. I clear my throat, the sound too loud in the silence, and begin.

“Sally,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “We found out what happened to George. And we think you deserve to know.”

Sebastian sits beside me, his hand resting lightly on his knee and the tension in his face mirroring how I feel. He doesn’t say anything but gives me a small nod, as if to sayGo on.

I take a deep breath and gather my courage. “He wasn’t well, Sally. The war broke him. But he never stopped thinking about you. He never stopped loving you.”

The words hang in the air, unanswered, and I glance at Sebastian. He’s watching me with his jaw tight and I know he feels the tension too. I turn back to the papers, my voice growing steadier.

“He wasn’t running away from the fighting when he left the battlefield,” I say, the words catching in my throat. “He was trying to get back to you. You were the one thing keeping him going, the one thing he held onto when everything else fell apart.”

A faint breeze brushes past me which feels too cold to be natural. I shiver and my pulse quickens as I glance around. The attic is silent but the air feels charged like static before a storm.

Sebastian shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “She’s listening,” he whispers.

I nod, my fingers trembling as I reach for the court martial record. “They didn’t understand what he was going through, Sally,” I say, my voice breaking. “They thought he was a deserter but he wasn’t. He was sick. He was hurting. And all he wanted was to come back to you.”

The words echo in the stillness, but there’s no reply. No knocks. No flickers of light. Just the faint sound of my own breathing and the creak of the floorboards as Sebastian shifts beside me.

For a moment I think it’s over. That she isn’t here, or worse that she doesn’t care. But then a sudden, sharp draft of wind sweeps through the attic, rustling the papers and tugging at my hair. I gasp and clutch the bundle to keep it from scattering. Seb’s hand closes over mine.

“Did you feel that?” I whisper, my heart pounding.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the room. “Yeah I felt it.”

The draft fades as quickly as it came, leaving the attic still and heavy once more. My chest tightens and the weight of unspoken words press down on me. “Sally,” I say softly, almost pleading. “I hope you heard us. I hope... this helps.”

Seb’s hand tightens around mine, his warmth grounding me against the cold. The attic remains silent and I feel a lump forming in my throat. We’ve done everything we can but the uncertainty lingers, gnawing at the edges of my resolve.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. Neither of you did.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything but his presence beside me is steady, solid. The torch flickers faintly, its beam wavering against the wall, and I wonder if it’s just the batteries or something else.

Finally, Sebastian shifts, his voice low. “Ready to go?”

I nod and carefully gather the papers with slightly trembling hands. I glance back at the spot where we’d been sitting as we stand up, half-expecting to see something… anything. But there’s nothing there. Just shadows and dust.

Seb’s hand brushes mine as we step into the corridor, his touch warm against the lingering chill and I glance up at him. His expression is softer now but the tension hasn’t fully left his face.

“Do you think she heard us?” I ask.

He pauses, his gaze meeting mine. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But if she did I hope it brought her some peace.”

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat as we make our way back down the stairs. It's cold outside but Seb’s hand holding mine is steady and grounding. Whatever comes next I know we’ve done what we can.

And for now that has to be enough.

Chapter 12

Sebastian

The walk back tomine is quiet and feels heavy with unspoken words. The air is crisp and biting and our breath is visible in the glow of the streetlights. Cat’s beside me, with her hands shoved into her coat pockets, her gaze distant. I want to ask what she’s thinking about but part of me already knows. Sally. George. The draft in the attic that neither of us can explain.

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