Page 167 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Amelia gritted her teeth, the heaviness of it all pressing in on her.
“Hey,” Brinkley said, leaning forwards, “you’re not alone in this, alright? We’ll figure it out. Whatever she’s done, we’ll find a way to undo it.”
Amelia nodded, barely. Her fingers trembled.
And in the corner of the room, sitting at the table, Halpert watched with a quiet calculation. He offered no further comment, just sipped his tea quietly, shadows behind his eyes.
The small, cramped study was full of warm, soft candlelight, the scent of old books a small, familiar comfort. Amelia sat cross-legged on the floor, the false journal open on the ground before her. She seethed quietly at the words. Lyana’s lies.
The other journal, the glyph-locked one, lay unopened and untouched near her knee. She had been looking at it for a long moment, something niggling at her brain.
Across from her, Halpert adjusted his glasses and handed her another page. He had agreed that while Brinkley was out to get them fresh Waystone chips to travel north, that they could start looking into the Midnight Realm again, to find a way in, a door. After everything, his familiar presence felt like a connection to the world she used to know.
To logic. To safety.
“You look tired,” he said gently, voice as soft and patient as it had always been. “You should rest, Amelia.”
She glanced away from the glyph-locked journal, giving him a weak smile. “Rest doesn’t come easy.”
His eyes softened, and for a heartbeat, he looked as if he might reach for her hand. But he didn’t.
“Amelia…” he began, standing slowly and walking to the study’s window, “you’ve been through so much. Lost so much.”
She closed the book, shoving it away, brows pinching. “I’m not done,” she said. “Silas is not…he’s not really gone. There’s something left of him. Ifeltit.”
“I know,” Halpert said and offered nothing more for the moment.
Amelia sighed and glanced back to the locked journal, frowning at it once more. The sigil on the corner of the cover called to her. She’d seen it before, she knew it.
But she couldn’t recall, and it frustrated her.
With an irritated sigh, she stood and walked over to the window next to Halpert, glancing out at the light of midday, the trees behind Brinkley’s cottage swaying lazily in the wind.
“Amelia,” he said quietly, “I know you want to save Silas, find a way to bring him home. But don’t you think there are more important things to be focusing on?”
She sighed quietly, eyes on the branches of the trees. “I know. But focusing on one doesn’t mean giving up the other. Bringing Silas home is connected to the Rift’s growth, and vice versa.”
“But you will focus on Silas, yes?”
She shrugged a shoulder.
“You’re brilliant, Amelia, you truly are. And with this burden laid at your feet, you’ve done well. Exceptionally well. But you can’t carry the rest of the burden alone, not anymore.”
The tone of his voice had sharpened slightly. She turned her head, suddenly feeling uneasy. “What do you mean?”
Halpert faced her. His expression had changed. Not unkind, but unfamiliar. Stern in a way she had never seen before.
“I made a promise to your parents.”
The world tilted. Amelia took a step back. “You…you w-what?”
“I never wanted it to come to this. But I fear your judgement will be clouded. Your parents have found a way to stop the growth, to repair everything. But they need exceptional talent, talent that is fuelled by magic. I…” He paused to sigh, a terrible sadness crossing his features as he reached out and lay a hand on the side of her arm. “I don’t want this, but the world may depend on it. Amelia, it’s time to…repurpose your talents.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Halpert—”
His voice was quiet. Apologetic. “Domare.”
The word struck like lightning.
