Elaine's bedroom smelled faintly of incense, old paper, and citrus cleaner. The lingering fingerprints of her flatmate, who was rarely home long enough to leave more than that behind, touched everything outside her room.
The altar sat tucked into the corner. A small desk draped in white cloth, cluttered with candles in varying states of consumption, feathers, chalk sigils drawn and redrawn, and a shallow bowl carved from something that might once have been bone.
The seller mentioned it was an original piece from the old witch trials.
Elaine sat cross-legged on the floor before it, sleeves rolled up, expression loose and unconcerned, as though this were no more serious than rolling dice before a board game.
She tossed the bones.
They clicked and bounced, skittering across the desk in irregular arcs. As they moved, Elaine closed her eyes and let her breathing slow, not from discipline, but out of habit.
"Oh, lady in white," she murmured, voice soft and casual, "provide me a guide to find my path."
The world tipped.
When she opened her eyes, they were no longer blue. All colour drained from her irises, leaving an almost blue-like white surrounding dulled pupils.
White flooded her vision, swallowing colour, depth, and distance.
For a heartbeat that stretched far too long, a woman stood before her, robed in white so pure it hurt to look at, edges bleeding light like overexposure. No face. No features. Only presence.
Then the visions came, tumbling one over another.
A boy with midnight-black hair and eyes like polished silver stood before a throne built of bones. Bones of human and animal, old and new, layered into something obscene and deliberate.
Dozens of robed beings listened to him.
Hundreds, maybe.
Their attention was rapt, reverent, fearful.
The scene shifted, spiralling through time, backwards or forwards, it was hard to tell.
Elaine witnessed everything from the city streets of Linden.
The world cracked open.
Not metaphorically.
First, gentle streaks of dark red light filled the sky.
Pedestrians stopped in their tracks, and drivers got out of their cars to watch the phenomenon.
Then great fractures split the sky and the ground alike, peeling reality back just enough for something to press against the thinning veil. Elaine couldn't see it clearly.
Only limbs, or the shapes of limbs, forcing their way through gaps that should never exist.
And through it all, the silhoutte of a boy spoke to dozens of people surrounding them, and seemingly, to the void beyond the cracks in the world.
Magnus, she assumed.
She didn't hear the words.
She felt them.
They were words of domination.
Of destruction.
Of the end.
Elaine gasped and the vision shattered.
Her eyes snapped back to blue. She staggered forward, catching herself on the desk as the bones rolled uselessly to the floor.
"Dammit all," she hissed, dragging her fingers over her face. "Seriously?"
She stared at the altar like it had personally betrayed her.
"Magnus is really supposed to guide me?"
The idea was absurd.
Magnus.
The same awkward, tired, and stubborn Magnus, who tripped over his own life even without divine interference.
She blew out a breath, already resigning herself to it. Fate was like that. Never elegant. Never polite.
Elaine grabbed her jacket, slipped on her boots, and headed out.
---
WcNonald's was as loud as usual. Elaine bounced on her heels at the counter, peering around for Magnus, only to be intercepted by a familiar, anxious-looking staff member.
"Oh. Hi," Chloe said, flinching slightly as Elaine smiled at her. "Um. Magnus isn't available right now."
'She knows I'm looking for Magnus? Just from coming here to see him once? A perceptive one...'
"Oh?" Elaine tilted her head. "Too busy causing chaos?"
"N-no! He's just... uh... getting some sort of training. For his new role."
"New role?"
"Regional manager. Or… something like that."
Elaine blinked.
"…Huh."
She stepped back, letting the next customer through, her mind ticking over.
"It's already making an impact," she whispered to herself, a grin tugging at her mouth despite the unease curling in her gut.
So much for subtlety.
With nowhere else to be, and no desire to hover awkwardly, Elaine wandered down the street toward a place that always smelled faintly of dust, dried herbs, and of age itself.
Nora's shop was dim as though it had never trusted electricity. Shelves bowed under the weight of books that had never known ISBNs. Throughout the store, jars filled with things Elaine preferred not to identify if she had the choice not to, and charms hung from the ceiling in slow, lazy motion.
Behind the counter sat Nora.
She looked, as always, like the oldest woman in the world, her skin thin as parchment, spine slightly curved, hair silvered into something closer to white.
Her eyes, though, were sharp. Too sharp.
They tracked Elaine the moment she stepped inside.
"Dear!" Nora beamed. "You're not on shift today. Everything alright?"
"Not really," Elaine said lightly, dropping onto the stool at the counter. "My future's just been placed in the hands of someone… profoundly unqualified."
The air shifted.
It was subtle. Elaine felt it only as a pressure change, like a storm deciding whether to arrive.
"And who," Nora asked, smile thinning just a fraction, "might this someone be?"
"Oh, he's nobody," Elaine waved a hand. "For now, at least."
"A boyfriend?"
Elaine laughed, bright and immediate. "Oh, absolutely not."
"Hm." Nora studied her. "Well, whoever he is, do bring him around sometime. I'd like to meet him."
"He'll come around on his own again sooner or later," Elaine said easily.
Nora's brows lifted. "Again? He's been here?"
"Yeah. When Caspian came looking for that ancient text you said you'd find for him."
"Ah, Caspian," Nora sighed fondly. "What a lovely gentleman. Give him my regards."
"Always do."
Nora folded her hands atop the counter.
"Now," she said, voice gentle but firm, "to business."
Elaine straightened. "Yes, Nora?"
"I've been thinking," Nora said slowly, "and I've decided I'm going to retire."
Elaine stared. "Retire? Oh no! What about the shop?"
Nora chuckled. "I am getting on in years."
"Getting on?" Elaine scoffed. "You predate half the calendar systems we use."
Nora cleared her throat. "Regardless. I was wondering if you'd take over. Full-time. Manager."
Elaine's mouth opened. Closed.
"…I'll have to think about it."
"Don't take too long," Nora said pleasantly. "I might only have a few months left in me."
Elaine paled. "Before you... die?"
Nora smiled, thin and knowing. "Of course not. I'm never going to die. Just retiring."
Elaine laughed, relief instant. "Good! That's the spirit. If anyone is going to live forever, it's you."
"I'm sure you're right, dear." Nora smiled softly.
They shared tea afterward, steam curling between them as Nora passed along names, contacts, rituals, responsibilities.
Elaine listened, nodding and joking, feeling only the faintest shiver crawl up her spine when Nora's smiled a little more widely than usual at times.
Just a strange vibe.
Nothing more.
Probably.