“Is it chicken?” Christine asked blearily. “Bacon cheeseburger?”
Altair frowned. “I don’t think Circe usually rewards people with food. But perhaps this is a strange custom of yours I am not yet familiar with?” He shrugged.
By this point, Christine was returning to wakefulness and his words penetrated her sleep-deprived brain. “Circe? Huh? Oh. Oh!”
“Easy,” Circe said, lifting a hand as Christine struggled to get to her feet. “Rest. It’s okay. You’ve done a lot here today, Apprentice.”
Christine sagged back into Altair’s arms, much to his relief. He knew she would have stood, but he suspected she was far lower on energy than anyone he knew.
“You defeated Lord Berith,” Circe said, making the sentence a statement, not a question.
“We got lucky,” Christine said. “He was strong. Very strong.”
“Indeed. But he is also no longer here. Thanks to you, I take it.”
Christine rolled her head to look up at him for a moment. Altair just smiled back. This was her decision.
“It was a group effort,” she said quietly. “We did it as a team. Everyone helped. Including Madison.”
Circe’s head tilted slightly to the side. “Is that so.”
“Yes,” Christine said, her voice quiet, but forceful. “They were wonderful. Couldn’t ask for a better group.”
“Very well then,” Circe said with a chuckle. “I suppose your team has shown its worth. We shall begin incorporating you into the official ranks of Winterspell’s resources. Good job, Apprentice Sinnclare. Good job indeed.”
Circe turned to go, to leave the pair of them in peace.
“Wait,” Christine said.
Altair looked down, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t like that tone. It sounded like Christine wanted to do something.
“Help me up,” she said quietly.
He frowned, but her eyes found his, and they were uncompromising. Altair sighed internally, but there were battles that were worth fighting, and some that were not. This was one of them.
Easily lifting Christine to her feet, he held her steady while she regained her balance, leaning heavily on her staff.
“You don’t need to do anything more here, Christine,” Circe said, the head of Winterspell casting a hooded look his way that seemed to ask what she was doing.
“Don’t look at me,” Altair replied as Christine eased her way out of his arms. “I don’t know.”
“There’s something else I need to do,” Christine said quietly. She turned to meet his eyes. “Something that must be done. That only I can do now.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, getting worried.
Christine reached out and touched his shoulder, exerting gentle pressure to move him aside.
He stepped out of her way, turning as he went. His eyes landed on the target, on what it was she must be after.
“What are you intending to do?” he asked as she walked forward, him on one side, Circe on the other.
“End it,” Christine said in a distracted whisper. “It must be this way.”
“But how?” Circe asked. “Nobody has been able to do anything to it. Even I can only see it. I cannot feel it.”
“I can,” Christine said, continuing forward, leaving the pair of them behind. “I can feel it now.”
He shook his head. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “During the battle, when we...when it happened. I must have somehow transferred something. We are joined, the two of us, Altair. Can you not feel it?”
“I can,” he said, acknowledging the connection he felt to her. “I’d denied it for some time now, but it’s there. Stronger now, than ever before.”
“Yes. You are part of my world now,” she said quietly, standing in front of the portal. “But by the same path, I am part of yours.”
Her staff came up, the tip brightening with silver light.
“I can feel it now. I see the threads of its existence. I understand it,” she said, looking ahead, even as she talked to the two of them.
Altair exchanged a helpless shrug with Circe.
“All I have to do, is cast this spell, and I can close it, Altair. I can close it right now.”
He opened his mouth to say do it, wondering why she hadn’t already.
But then it hit him. Once it closed, once she cast her spell, it was closed. There was no way back to Dracia. No way to reclaim his home planet.
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.
“Do it,” he said quietly.
Dracia was gone. The people on it were gone. If closing it would starve the creatures that had Infected his people and kill them off, preventing them from doing what they did to any other worlds, then he would do that.
Nobody else deserved to suffer the way his people had.
“You’re positive?” Circe asked.
“Yes. Our home is here now. On Earth. At Winterspell.”
Silver light bathed the area in its glow.
When it faded, the portal was gone.
Altair staggered slightly, but he recovered, standing tall.
Goodbye.
“Come,” Circe said after giving him time to process what had just happened. “Let us get the two of you back to Winterspell. You need to rest and recover. Perhaps even with a bacon cheeseburger or two.”
If Altair could see the woman’s eyes, he knew they would be glittering with laughter just then.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Christine
THREE DAYS PASSED AT Winterspell before she was summoned to Circe’s office again.
Unsure of the reasoning behind it, Christine took the long route through the hallways, trying to puzzle out what it was she had done.
In the time since her team had returned, life at the magic academy had mostly returned to normal. Classes resumed, tensions wound down, and the magic world relaxed. A crisis had been averted, and nothing new loomed on the horizon.
Christine had spent that time with Altair, exploring their connection, and really getting to know one another. It had been a wonderful, eye-opening seventy-two hours that had left her bubbling with excitement for what the future between them would hold.
Now that they were no longer holding back with one another, they had been making great strides in strengthening their bond, chatting excitedly about everything from their favorite foods, to their dreams for the future, and with each other. Then there were
