Page 25 of A Match Made in Slumber

“Permanent isolation.” Verity clasped his hands together in demonstration.

I felt a wave of dread building behind my ribs.

“What does it mean in plain terms?” Kill’em asked, his voice level. “That I’ll be trapped here?”

Trapped.

“No,” Verity muttered, “it actually gets worse.”

“It means that after the eclipse, an alien to our plane cannot continue to exist here.” Morrigen looked right at Kill’em. “In two days, the ambient magic of Everend will begin to reject your presence. It will slowly drain your spiritual energy to compensate for your displacement.”

Verity’s expression grew even grimmer. “Your heart and lungs will likely fail.”

The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner turned deafening all of a sudden. An ache split my chest and I bit my lip so as not to gasp.

“Is there a solution? One that we know of?” Kill’em continued to ask, his tone and posture dispassionate. As if the discussion didn’t revolve around his life or imminent death.

“A tethering ritual,” Morrigen replied. “Performed with one of Elian’s matches containing a high-tier binding enchantment. It would essentially glue you to the here and now, doing the trick just fine.”

“You don’t happen to have one knocking around, do you?” Verity regarded me with zero optimism.

I forced myself to respond by shaking my head. “H-how about sending him back? Would that still work?” I somehow managed to pose this question with superficial calm, keeping my voice from cracking. “I mean, would that be safe?”

“Yes, the opposite approach is also possible.” Morrigen nodded. “Keălhem needs to be tied to either this plane or reattached to his old one. So the correct enchantment would transport him back and at the same time, bind him anew to the energetic lining of his own realm, preventing any drainage, implosion or fragmentation—”

I shot from my chair, the sudden force scraping its legs against the floorboards as I darted towards my workshop. A heartbeat later, I flashed back into the kitchen, my knuckles white around a small, golden box. I walked up to Kill’em, thrusting the item forwards until his hands closed automatically around it.

“What is it?” Kill’em asked, his fingers touching the smooth edges of the container.

I raised my gaze, locking onto his eyes even though the weight of his stare made my throat tighten. “The Match of Interdimensional Return,” I replied. “I’ve… invented it.”

“When?” For the first time, Kill’em’s voice wavered to reveal an edge of emotion.

Verity and Morrigen exchanged a loaded, heavy look.

“Two days after the Spousal Audit.”

The crippling silence that fell over the kitchen stretched tight enough to snap. Sensing a sudden, private moment brewing between us, Verity and Morrigen quietly slid their chairs back and stood.

“We’ll leave you to… discuss things between yourselves,” Verity murmured, stepping towards the hallway. “You know where we are if you need us.”

Morrigen’s gaze lingered on the golden box. “You have forty-eight hours to decide what you want to do. By the night of the eclipse, you must either use this match to send Keălhem back or invent the reverse spell to keep him here. There’s no in-between anymore.”

Before slipping out into the humid night, Verity reached out and gave my hand a brief squeeze, while Morrigen offered Kill’em a pat on the shoulder.

Neither of us moved a muscle or uttered a syllable until the front door finally clicked shut.

“Why didn’t you say anything? About the matchstick?” Kill’em asked at last, his voice dropping into a quiet, unfamiliar tone. The sound of it made me shudder.

I could’ve lied and tried to save some face. But the only thing I could offer him now was blunt honesty. That much I owed him. I had to own my pettiness, my absolute selfishness. So I blurted, “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving.” A hot, stinging wave of shame flooded my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“You should’ve told me,” Kill’em whispered.

The words cut through me.

Now he despises me. Detests me. Now he knows who I really am. Worthless.

I couldn't look at him for a second longer. The kitchen felt suffocating, devoid of air. My mind spun, unable to think. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, turning on my heels.