Page 64 of Revert
If the true purpose of the hourglass was to alter time, then what had my mission been all these years that I had sacrificed comfort, safety, and my very life for?
I sat up in bed, pulling the blankets about my shoulders as I pondered. I recalled the moment I’d first heard of the artifact that could save my father. If that story had been a well-crafted lie, what was the truth? I hated to face the answer that was piecing together in my mind. But if I had been sent to retrieve the same object that the king used to gain totalitarian control, then I couldn’t deny that my co-conspirators had no intention of saving my father; they merely sought the same power as Thorndale’s king for themselves. And I had been the naïve girl in the perfect position to help them.
I pressed a hand against my churning stomach as betrayal surged through me. After several deep, steadying breaths I clenched my jaw in determination. Unlike my previous failures, I finally had something that had been missing until now—I’d been fed tiny scraps of information and small clues to piecetogether, but at last I knew what I’d never been meant to discover.
Time had reversed. But unlike every timeline before when they had unwound beyond my awareness or remembrance, this time I had been awake within the unraveling, allowing me to navigate with the awareness I was living another life.
I remembered the moment the king turned back time—the spell, the enchanted chamber, the magic curling inward like a wave swallowing the shore. I remembered the moment of my first kiss, the tenderness of Castiel’s arms enfolding me as our lips touched. I remembered the defiance in his voice as he defended me. And I still remembered the night he had murdered me, one of many mysteries still remaining unexplained.
A cold dread settled over me. The king had intended to reset the board again, to send me back as a pawn unaware of the trap—a tool to be manipulated, a threat to be neutralized. But this time, I refused to play his game.
My hand instinctively went to my chest, the skin above my heart still marred with the scar from Castiel’s blade. My heart also bore another wound, thundering with knowledge it had no right to carry.
I startled at the sudden knock on my door—not the soft, polite tap of a servant, but a single, deliberate knock meant for me. I slowly crossed the room and opened the door a fraction. Castiel stood in the hallway, cloaked in shadow. No guards or attendants, just him.
He appeared untouched by time, yet carried the weariness of a thousand lives, as though each reversal had etched itself into his soul. His uncertain gaze found mine with quiet desperation, searching for a glimmer of recognition, a trace of which version of me had come back to him.
“May I come in?” His voice was cautious, carefully guarded.
I hesitated for only a breath before stepping aside. His eyes swept the room as he entered—as if checking for listeners or traps—before turning back to me. For one fragile heartbeat, we stood in silence, trying to read one another, circling the same unspoken question neither of us dared voice:do you remember?
We stood in awkward silence, neither of us speaking, both unsure which version of the other we were confronting. I counted the seconds, which stretched into long, breathless minutes. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he cautiously stepped farther into the room.
“Bernice?” Hesitation cradled my name, as if he was afraid the sight of him would spiral me into a panic—just as it had the first morning I returned after my murder.
When I made no move to bolt or scream, he reached within his cloak and withdrew a small linen bundle, placing it gently in my hands. My breath caught as I gingerly unwrapped it. Nestled inside was a single daffodil, its golden face tilted towards the light, soft and impossibly bright against the grey folds of fabric. Dew still clung to its petals, freshly picked from the ruins. I took a step towards the window to marvel at it in the early light.
“I thought daffodils didn’t grow on the palace grounds…at least, not in places anyone could see.” My voice was careful, testing how much he retained from the timelines.
“Some things are better hidden,” he said. “But perhaps it’s finally time they weren’t any longer.” His eyes lingered on mine, searching my face, watching how his words took shape within me.
My heart stuttered, unable to bear being apart a moment longer. It guided my movements as I carefully set the daffodil on my windowsill before closing the distance between us in two quiet steps. I lifted my hand to lightly brush my fingertips across his cheek. He leaned into my touch with a breathless stillness,as if he remembered the romantic moment that had transpired between us as clearly as I did.
“The daffodil that emerged from the ruins.” The words lingered like a spell in the air.
His shoulders sagged in relief. “Neese.” In the next moment he seized me in a tight embrace, as if he couldn’t be held back a moment longer.
“I’m so relieved you’re safe. For all his speeches about disposing of useless tools, the king has always seen your survival as leverage against me. But this time...he seemed serious. I feared—” His voice wavered and his hold around me tightened, as though he had no intention of letting go.
I tried to return the embrace, but I had barely wrapped my arms around him when he suddenly pulled back. “You do remember—right?” His frantic gaze searched mine, frantic for any hint of recollection.
I nodded. “Am I…not supposed to?”
He exhaled shakily. “I hoped you would, but it was untested magic, nothing more than a theory I’ve only had a chance to test once, the night—” The words faltered.
“—you killed me,” I finished.
He flinched, his whole body stiffening at the word. For a moment, I thought he might deny it, but then he gave a slow, reluctant nod. “I know I need to explain,” he said. “But it would take time I’m not sure we currently have, and this is neither the time nor the place.”
He looked drained, like he hadn’t slept all night. He ran a hand through his hair, the motion restless. The movement drew my attention to his sleeves, stained with dark patches of blood.
Horror cinched my heart and my breath caught. He noticed the trajectory of my gaze and hastily hid his hands behind his back. But it was too late, I had already seen.
Tension choked the previously reverent stillness. Expression agonized, his gaze dropped, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me.
“I…carried out the king’s command. They haven’t been executed yet, but will be soon if I don’t find a way to stop it in time. I thought it best to carry out my promise immediately, before he could change his mind about sparing you. I didn’t want to give him a single excuse to harm you on a whim. I was terrified of leaving you unguarded, so Halric stood outside your door the entire night until I returned.”
My stomach twisted. While I had been sleeping peacefully, he had been carving away at his soul for the sake of my survival. For the first time, I began to understand the invisible weight he carried—not just the burden of a secrets and a bloodstained crown, but of remembrance of all the timelines I’d forgotten.
