A Ripple in Time

Maeve · Chapter 6 of 6 · 5-minute read

I crash into something soft, the force still knocking the breath from my lungs. My hands clutch at the cool, familiar fabric beneath me—a worn cushion. The bistro set. Wisteria.

The scent of salt and jasmine fills my nose, stronger now, almost electric in the night air. I’m back. But not by the necklace’s magic. This. . .this is Lord Daegan’s doing.

Ignoring the faint tremor in my hands, I force myself to sit up straight. Normally, time travel brings us back to a few minutes after we left, depending on how far we’ve travelled. The old chair creaks beneath me as I blink against the silvery glow of early dawn stretching across the sky. When I’d left the sun was high enough to pierce the canopy of vines. The candles that had been flickering low now burn tall and unspent. My still-empty teacup radiates warmth as though no time has passed, though I know it has.

The quiet around me feels fragile—too still, too watchful. The breeze shifts, carrying with it the faintest hint of wolf. I can sense that I’m being watched. Veronica’s otherworldly wolf guardians? Spies from the priesthood? The all-knowing, ever-aware God Himself, watching me while He dreams of a new world after the pole shift?

The tremor of a presence. I resist the urge to whirl around. Someone—or something—is watching.

The scent fades on the wind, and for a moment, silence reclaims the courtyard. Then the faintest hum of magic reaches me. Tense, I lift my eyes.

Beyond the wrought-iron gate, Spencer cocks his head to see if I’m waiting for him. I am. Always.

His blond hair falls loose on his shoulders. He carries. . .oh! He carries a battered leather satchel at his side. My heartbeat stutters—a strange feeling of déjà vu surges through me. I know what’s in the bag before he even reaches me: The Bellatrix Grimoire.

“Maeve,” Spencer says softly, then stops. “What’s wrong?”

This isn’t the Spencer who left me angry and guilt-ridden—no, the panic and frustration are missing. He’s calm. Concerned. But not reeling from an argument with me.

The truth washes over me. I’ve been thrown back. Not forward, not beyond. Back to this earlier moment. Before Spencer left. Before we argued. Before the burden I’d sought to carry on my own nearly destroyed me.

A second chance.

The God—dreaming always toward a new world, toward balance—has given me a second chance.

For this breathless moment, I understand without the gift of knowing. Like a whisper not heard but felt. Someday, perhaps, I will write of this moment. Perhaps it will be one more journal in a Daeganean library, one more offering to a reality beyond mine.

But not yet.

“Maeve?” Spencer asks again, stepping closer. His free hand brushes my arm.

I blink, anchoring myself to this moment. His touch is warm, grounding. Against the whirl of fate and realization, he is steady.

“I. . .” My voice quivers, raw with unsaid things. I force myself to meet his eyes, searching them for a flicker of what he may have known—before. But there’s nothing. It didn’t happen. I stand, light on my feet, fighting the urge to cry or laugh or both.

Without a word, I step into his arms. The satchel squeaks faintly as I press against him, wrapping my arms around his torso.

He stiffens for a moment—this is unexpected—but soon relaxes, his hands lightly brushing my back. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, nuzzling into the fabric of his coat. I half expect the lingering smell of the sea to cling to him, but here he smells of leather and herbs.

The shimmer of magic pulls faintly at the edge of my awareness, a remnant of whatever fears have driven me for years. A flicker in the periphery. I turn to look more closely, resisting the urge to follow. For now, I would rather walk into the light of the present than chase shadows.

“Maeve,” Spencer says softly. His confusion is laced with tenderness.

I feel the tension in him, the unspoken questions. This is when he will tell me he found the Grimoire that Veronica will one day need. This is when I could argue—I remember, even if he doesn’t. I could pick a fight. This is where I could complain about my fears and how unfair it is that he knows the future while I’m in the dark.

But I won’t.

“Everything’s fine,” I murmur gently. I keep my cheek pressed against his chest, feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. And for now, I let it anchor me.

For now.

A faint shimmer, like heat lightning, flickers at the edge of the courtyard—the ripple lingering in the wake of the God’s gift.

My body tenses instinctively. I could go. Investigate it. Try to dissect its meaning. Certain truths lie just beyond the boundary of what I can see, tantalizing and maddening as always.

But I won’t.

“You know, Veronica won’t wake for another few hours, and I happen to know you have a few to spare. Let’s spend that time together,” I say softly, stepping back so I can meet Spencer’s gaze.

He narrows his eyes slightly, unsure, but I offer him a small, reassuring smile. The world will wait. For the first time in a long time, I am sure of it.

I don’t know everything. I still walk in darkness. But I also walk in love. And with purpose.

When Spencer nods and pulls the bistro chairs together, I take his hand in mine. It isn’t much, but it’s real.

And in the growing light of dawn, it feels enough.

⁂

THE END

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Follow Maeve and Spencer as they bounce around in time in Answered Prophecy and Turn of Earth, books 1 and 2 of the Witch in Time Supernatural Thriller Duology.

← Chapter 5: Knowledge

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The Witch in Time story continues in Book 2, Turn of Earth. Old Maeve must balance love, legacy, and destiny to secure humanity’s future—before it’s too late. Read it free in the Library →

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