Page 61 of Revert
The tall, forbidding door stood in a quiet alcove at the end of a narrow corridor—a place I didn’t recognize, and yet…I did. My memory tangled with the past:thiswas where I had died, even as it was also an entirely new location. Previously this door had been at the bottom of a twisting staircase in the dungeon depths, yet it was absent when I had descended to investigate in this version of the timeline.
I couldn’t comprehend how the centuries-old layout of the palace could change…and yet the pulse of magic vibrating through the air was the same, as was the sigil carved into the ancient wood—the very obstacle I had never been able to breach, the one I had bled in front of.
“Is that the same one—?” My voice cracked as I shrank back against him. Despite the fears and horrors that were dredged up at the sight of the door, the one thing I knew with certainty was that Castiel would not harm me. I might not know what we were doing at the scene of my former death, but I trusted that he was acting to protect me.
He nodded, still too winded to speak.
He withdrew a pendant from beneath his collar—silver and fashioned in the shape of the same ancient sigil we’d uncovered in the library, the same one painted in fragments across the ruined mural. He pressed it to the center of the door. The markings engraved in the wood flared to life—soft gold, then brilliant white. A low hum filled the air, followed by a gentleclickas the lock gave way, granting our access.
My heart pounded in foreboding as the door creaked open. Beyond the threshold lay the object of the mission I had been undertaking since entering the Thorndale court, an ambition I had pursued in blind faith, without knowing what I was after.
Inside, the air shimmered with time magic—heavy, humming, sacred. The chamber was circular, its walls carved with concentric rings of runes that pulsed like veins of starlightand vibrated with impossible knowing. The ceiling arched into a dome of glass, framing the night sky like a watchful eye. Books, scrolls, and strange relics lined the alcoves—some glowing faintly, others flickering like trapped memories.
At the center stood a pedestal of obsidian, atop which rested an artifact shaped like an hourglass, but unlike any mortal design. Its sands flowed upward, suspended mid-fall, caught in a constant loop. I gasped as I saw the object I’d been searching for the past several years.
There were so many details to take in, but Castiel didn’t linger in the center of the chamber, leaving me no time to examine the object that could be my father’s—and my kingdom’s—salvation. His calculating gaze quickly swept the space before he turned towards one of the curved alcoves carved into the wall—half-shadowed, half-concealed behind a tapestry etched with runes that shimmered faintly in the hourglass light.
“This way.” His voice was low, urgent.
He gently set me down and led me behind the hanging fabric and gestured towards the narrow space tucked between a shelf of ancient tomes and a curved panel of stone. The magic here hummed louder—disguising a breath, a heartbeat, perhaps even my very presence.
“Stay here,” he whispered. “Don’t make a sound. No matter what happens or what you hear. Do you understand?”
I nodded, heart in my throat. “Castiel?—”
He shook his head once, eyes gleaming in the dark. “Please. Don’t speak.”
He stepped back and studied the space with a soldier’s precision, making sure I was fully hidden. Then, just before pulling the tapestry back into place, he reached through the veil and let his hand brush against my hair—tender, lingering. A silent farewell, or a promise I couldn’t yet name.
And then he was gone.
I crouched in the darkness, the stone cool against my back, barely daring to breathe. My fingers trembled in my lap as I strained to listen.
Castiel’s footsteps returned to the center of the room, steady and calm now, as if he hadn’t just flown through the castle with fire in his lungs and desperation in his eyes.
I didn’t even have time to fully process what he was doing, or why he’d hidden me, when the heavy door groaned open. The hum of magic spiked, a strange pressure curling against my skin. The shift in the air was immediate—sharp, oppressive, like the room itself had drawn in a breath and held it. I pressed deeper into the shadows, my hand fisted against my mouth to steady my breathing.
Then came the sound of footsteps—slow, deliberate, echoing with too much authority to belong to anyone else. His boots struck the stone with deliberate slowness, each step echoing like a clock’s tick counting down towards something inevitable.
The king had entered. I went still, not daring to breathe lest he sense my presence. His footsteps slowed, measured, until they paused at the chamber’s center.
“Took longer to locate this time,” he murmured, voice coated in silken malice. “Such a meddlesome quirk of reversal magic—always shifting the door’s location. Inconvenient.” He sighed, exaggerated and theatrical. “I must admit, I’m disappointed in you. To think another reversal is even necessary when everything else had been proceeding so well. I trust you understand why I’ve brought you here.”
The silence stretched in the charged quiet, taut and brittle. I could picture Castiel’s schooled expression, every emotion locked behind that careful mask he wore like armor.
“You’ve grown careless, Son. Soft.”
My stomach twisted, and Castiel drew a sharp breath. “You mistake caution for softness, Your Majesty.”
The king laughed, low and cold. “Do I?” His boots resumed their slow echo across the stone. “You never used to flinch when I ordered a girl’s death. Now look at you—dashing to her rescue at the slightest hint of danger like some tragic courtly knight. It’d almost be sweet…if it weren’t so pathetic.”
“Hint of danger?” Some of Castiel’s careful restraint cracked, his voice darkening. “She was nearly assassinated.”
The king gave a mock gasp. “A tragedy indeed. A shame he’s dead so I can’t offer my thanks. Too bad he did such a sloppy job of it…or that the heir meant to be undyingly loyal to me had to interfere.”
My pulse surged in confusion. He spoke as if he hadn’t been the one to order the assassination. If that was true, then…who had? I sensed Castiel’s own incredulity in the thick, cloying silence that followed this revelation. “I don’t believe you,” he said at last.
“A foolish denial,” the king replied smoothly. “I taught you better than that. You know I’ve never hidden my disdain for her, not to mention I recall I’ve killed her once or twice myself in one of the other timelines. I would end her the moment she gave me reason—and she’s already given me plenty. But this time I haven’t had that pleasure.”
