It would be the time gate.
The Lonely King stopped several meters in front of it and threw me off his shoulder.
I slammed into the floor with a sickening crunch, the breath knocked out of me.
I watched him pace. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The rain kept driving down with all the power of the apocalypse. I’d never heard anything like it. It assaulted the tin roof above like an army.
The Lonely King kept stalking before the ring. It crackled at his approach, changing color whenever he was near.
“It’ll be enough. It’ll be enough,” he kept repeating to himself.
I didn’t need to interrupt his frenzy to ask what he was talking about. It was clear. I would be enough. He no longer had another witch heart. He was pinning his hopes on the heart of a seer.
A strange cold melancholy had swept over me. Maybe it was submission, surrender, the last few moments of a soul who now knew no matter what she tried, she would not be able to escape.
Or maybe it was just this damn drafty factory. There was a massive hole in the roof. It let in the driving wind and rain. I watched as sheets of rain slammed into the pock-marked concrete with such force it was a surprise the floor didn’t crack.
The rain was so heavy, there was practically a swimming pool under the roof. Fortunately, the floor was slanted, and the water didn’t tip towards me and drown me.
I shivered as another pulse of cold sailed through me.
The Lonely King kept pacing, his footfall so quick, it was a surprise he didn’t leave skid marks along the concrete.
He kept looking at his watch, yanking up his wrist and hissing as he tapped the clock face.
I couldn’t see the time, but I could feel it. That was no lie. It wasn’t the fantasy of my broken mind. I could honestly feel time well around me and charge in the air. I felt it crackle down my skin, sink into my sternum.
I did not, however, feel it slip through my fingers. Instead, it gathered around me, almost like a weapon.
“Minutes, now. Minutes,” the Lonely King hissed as he drew to a halt directly in front of the ring.
With every passing second, the ring was charging with magic until it crackled like a spinning circle of flame. On any other day in any other situation, it would have been beautiful. There was nothing like it in the mundane or natural world. It was uniquely magical and singularly powerful.
The air now buzzed with so much magic, it felt like I’d fallen into a pit of live wires.
“Not long now,” the Lonely King boomed, his voice laced with so much magic, it caused the whole room to shake.
Using most of my strength, I shoved one of my hands against the cold, wet floor, and pivoted to the side, angling my head up to see the roof above the ring. With a sudden boom of power, the roofing tin flew off, revealing the pounding rain above. And yet, though the rain drove down from every angle, none of it could touch the ring. It evaporated in hisses of steam meters above the ring, succumbing to the sheer amount of power pulsing off it in waves.
I caught sight of the side of the Lonely King’s face. Crazed didn’t come close to describing how he looked. There was something so… broken about his gaze. His whole face, even. The kind of broken someone tries to hide but can never truly conceal for they can never be whole again.
The Lonely King kept obsessively checking his watch, subvocalizing the seconds as he counted them down with stiff movements of his lips.
His crazed gaze would dart between me and his watch, me and his watch.
I finally felt time slipping between my fingers.
“It’ll be enough,” the Lonely King whispered under his breath once more. “Your heart’s strong – your magic is stronger. It’ll do. It will open my gate to her.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
No. Damn. Wrong question. It broke the spell.
He turned to me and gave a stuttering laugh. “You should know – you saw my future, didn’t you? But you didn’t. You lied. And you’re wrong – so wrong. She’ll come back to me. I have enough magic now.”
“I wasn’t wrong. But I did lie. I didn’t see your future. I didn’t have to. Because we both know it’ll happen. You’re a sorcerer king, and you’ll never be able to hide from your magic. You’ve amassed too much. It will always cost you your heart’s desire.”
Again a look of pure rage contorted his face, and again he leaned down and slapped me.
This time, I used all my muscular control not to allow my head to shift to the side. Instead, I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
He sneered at me, and something on his watch beeped.
Cold dread sailed through my stomach as a smile sailed across his face.
He whirled on his foot and walked over to an old 44-gallon drum. Atop was a magical dagger. It was glowing as lines of light filtered through the metal.
He plucked it up and walked towards me.
This was where I would have to save myself, right? This was where I would have to give in to the magic, beg the fireflies to return.
… Or this was where I gave up.
He loomed above me, the dagger in his hand, its reflected light illuminating the side of his face, plunging his eyes into shadow.
He watched his watch.
I waited.
I grit my teeth, and I waited. For the fireflies, the something. And yet, as I lay there,
