Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
The locket continued to rest on Charlotte’s genealogical chart, silent now but retaining warmth that suggested dormancy rather than deactivation. Whatever recognition had passed between artifact and bearer, whatever circuit had been completed by Delphine’s touch, the connection remained intact.
“I can’t . . . I need time to process this,” Delphine said finally. “This morning I was researching historical curiosities. Tonight you’re telling me I’m the reincarnation of an eighteenth-century witch whose magical experiments are destabilizing reality because she wanted to stay connected to an angel she loved?”
“Fallen angel. And I know it’s a lot.”
“A lot?” She laughed, the sound carrying notes of hysteria. “A lot doesn’t begin to cover what this is.” She gestured toward the locket. “That thing moved across the room to find me. It lit up like a beacon when I touched it. Are you going to tell me that was coincidence?”
“No. That was recognition.”
“Recognition of what?”
“Of who you are. Of who you’ve always been, beneath whatever circumstances shaped each individual life.” Bastien reached for the locket, noting how its metal was still warm despite having been silent for several minutes. “Charlotte crafted this to find her across lifetimes. Tonight, it finally completed the search.”
Delphine watched him pocket the artifact, her expression unreadable. “And now?”
“Now you have choices to make. About whether you want to understand what Charlotte began. About whether you’re willing to risk completing work that could transform you into something beyond human limitations.” He met her eyes directly. “About whether you trust me enough to let me help you navigate what’s coming.”
“What happens if I say no? If I decide I don’t want anything to do with cosmic transformation or soul-binding magic?”
“Then forces beyond either of our control will ensure this becomes your final incarnation. No more rebirths, no more opportunities for love or growth or any of the experiences that make existence worthwhile.”
“And if I say yes?”
“Then we face whatever’s coming together. And maybe this time, the story has a different ending.”
Delphine stood slowly, moving to the research room window that looked out over the Quarter’s narrow streets. Below, late evening life continued its eternal rhythm—tourists seeking entertainment, locals avoiding areas where glamour had grown thin, supernatural beings conducting business in shadows that concealed more than darkness alone.
“I need time,” she said without turning around. “Time to think, to research, to . . . I don’t know. To figure out whether I’m losing my mind or discovering truths that change everything I thought I knew about reality.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know. However long it takes to decide whether I believe any of this is real.”
Bastien nodded, though she couldn’t see the gesture. Time was exactly what they didn’t have—Maestro’s warning about cosmic authorities drawing attention, the growing instability in supernatural boundaries, the way the locket had responded to her touch with violence that suggested forces building toward culmination.
But she deserved the illusion of choice, even if circumstances would eventually remove that luxury.
“I’ll be waiting,” he said simply.
“Where?”
“Where I’ve always been. Close enough to help if you need protection, far enough away that you can make decisions without pressure.” He moved toward the research room door. “But Delphine? Be careful who you trust with what you’ve learned tonight. There are others who have been waiting for Charlotte’s work to approach completion, and not all of them have your best interests at heart.”
“Others like who?”
“Fae who view mortal existence as raw material for grander designs. Cosmic entities whose job it is to maintain universal balance through any means necessary. Supernatural beings who would use your transformation to advance their own agendas.” He paused at the threshold. “And Collectors who feed on souls that have grown too powerful for their designated place in the cosmic hierarchy.”
The warnings settled around her like invisible weight, adding layers of danger to revelations already too vast for easy comprehension. She remained at the window, silhouetted against street light that revealed none of the expression on her face.
“Good night, Delphine.”
“Good night . . . Bastien.”
The use of his first name carried significance that transcended simple courtesy. Recognition, perhaps, of connection that went deeper than professional consultation. Or merely acknowledgment that pretense of casual acquaintance had become impossible after what they’d shared.
The Archive’s front door closed behind him with finality that suggested transformation rather than simple departure. As Bastien walked down Ursulines Street toward the Quarter’s heart, he could feel the locket’s warmth against his chest—not the violent vibration of recognition, but a steady pulse that matched his heartbeat.
For the first time in decades, Charlotte’s creation was fulfilling its intended function. Not seeking its target but maintaining connection with the reincarnated soul it had been designed to find.
The test was complete. The recognition was real.
And somewhere in the darkness ahead, forces that had been building for over two centuries were preparing to demand answers about what that recognition would cost.