The light felt wrong when Morwenna opened her eyes.
It took her a moment to understand the shift. The nursery remained the same: she saw the tall windows with their heavy, velvet drapes, the carved bedposts reaching toward the high ceiling, and the worn rug where she had left her trainers in a messy heap the night before.
Cinder was a warm, rhythmic weight at her feet, his breathing a steady anchor. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers, glowing a soft, deep orange behind the black iron grate.
But the light was gold, not grey.
She lay still for a long moment, watching the sunbeams move slowly across the ceiling, illuminating the intricate plasterwork. It was morning light, but it felt thick and heavy. It was late morning. She had slept past the dawn, past the usual breakfast hour, and past the quiet time when the house first stirred.
Cinder lifted his head the moment she shifted. His russet ears swivelled forward, and his tail gave a slow, thumping beat against the heavy blankets.
She climbed out of bed, her feet meeting the floorboards. Her legs still felt heavy, the soreness from yesterday's adventures sitting deep in her muscles. She didn't care. Her feet hit the wood, and she was already moving, her nightshirt fluttering around her knees.
The corridor stayed empty and silent. The portraits were all awake, their painted eyes tracking her progress through the hall. Edmund looked up from the heavy, leather-bound book in his frame when she hurried past.
"You are up late," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow space.
She didn't stop to answer. She was already running, her bare heels silent on the runner.
. . .
The morning room smelled strongly of buttered toast and Earl Grey tea. The long wooden table stayed half-cleared. Plates were stacked at one end, and the floral teapot was still out, a small curl of steam rising from its spout.
Jane sat with a cup held in both hands, her red hair catching the light. Jack stood by the window with the Daily Prophet open, the silver streak in his dark hair catching the sun. Aldric occupied his usual chair near the hearth, a thick volume balanced on his knee. Seraphina sat beside him, her hands folded quietly in her lap, her knitting nowhere in sight.
Saoirse was sprawled on the settee, one leg hanging over the cushioned arm and a piece of cold toast held in her hand. Morwenna stopped in the doorway, her breath coming in short, excited bursts. Everyone turned to look at her.
"I went to London," she said, her voice bright and certain.
Saoirse sat up, the settee's springs creaking. "We know, little monster."
"I saw a bus."
Seraphina set her cup down on the saucer with a soft click. "You told us last night."
Morwenna didn't seem to hear her. She was already climbing onto the empty chair beside her mother, her small hands gripping the edge of the polished seat. Cinder followed her in, settling under the table with his nose pointed toward the floorboards.
"The buildings were so tall. They were taller than the manor." She held her arms out, stretching them as wide as she could reach until her fingertips tingled.
Aldric closed his book, marking his place with a finger. "Taller than the manor?"
"Much taller. They went up and up." She pointed at the ceiling, her green eyes wide. "Like that. But more. So much more."
Seraphina smiled, the fine lines around her eyes deepening. "That's very tall indeed."
"And the swings." Morwenna grabbed the edge of the table, her fingers gripping the mahogany. "You push with your legs and you go higher and higher. Then your stomach goes up and the sky goes down and then you are flying." She looked directly at Saoirse. "You said it was like flying. It was like flying."
Saoirse grinned, her teeth white against her tanned skin. "I told you it would be."
"And the slide." Morwenna was talking faster now, the words spilling out in a rush. "You climb up the metal steps and at the very top you can see everything. Then you sit and push and it's so fast. The wind is in your face and then you are at the bottom and you have to do it again." She looked at Jack, seeking his confirmation. "I went four times."
Jack folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. "Four times?"
"I raced a boy. He was five. I won four times. The fifth time I let him win."
Saoirse snorted, a lock of dark hair falling into her eyes. "You let him win?"
"He was sad."
Aldric's mouth twitched at the corners. "That was kind of you."
Morwenna shrugged, the movement casual. She reached for a piece of toast on the plate in front of her and bit into it. It was cold and a bit chewy, but she didn't care. "The round thing was the best."
She chewed and swallowed quickly. "You hold onto the bars and it spins and spins until everything goes blurry. Then you let go and the world keeps spinning even when you stop." She paused, thinking of the sensation. "That one made my stomach feel like Apparition. But better."
Jane reached out and smoothed Morwenna's messy white hair back from her forehead. "You did all of that yesterday."
"Yes." Morwenna took another bite of toast, her eyes bright with residual adrenaline. "And tomorrow we go again."
Seraphina leaned forward, her expression turning serious. "Not London tomorrow. The mundane branch. The Keith village."
Morwenna's hand paused halfway to her mouth. She remembered her father had told her about it months ago, back when they sat by the lake. It was the village where the Squibs lived. They were the ones who carried Keith blood in their veins but couldn't perform magic.
"When?" she asked.
Seraphina looked over at Jack.
Jack set the newspaper aside on a side table. "Tomorrow morning. We will leave before the dawn, just as we did yesterday. Cousin William has offered us the main house for our stay."
Morwenna's brow furrowed as she processed this. "The main house?"
"They are the ones who know about us. They act as the bridge between the magical and mundane branches of our family."
She remembered that part of the story too. They were the ones who handled the things the magical family needed in the mundane world. They were the bridge that connected the two sides.
"William asked another member of the family to meet us at the apparition site," Jack continued. "They will drive us to Thornwell."
Morwenna tilted her head, her hair falling over her shoulder. "Drive?"
"In a car," Jane said, her voice soft. "it's a different kind of vehicle than the buses you saw. it's smaller and takes fewer people. Someone drives it for you."
Morwenna thought about this. She had seen cars yesterday, but only from a distance through the glass of the café. The buses were big and red, but the cars were sleek and varied. She had watched them from the window, moving in long, orderly lines down the street.
"We will stay for a month," Jack said. "Then we will go to London. To the London house."
Morwenna looked at him, her curiosity piqued. "The London house?"
"A house the family keeps in the city for when we need to stay there for a longer time."
She nodded. She didn't fully understand the logistics, but she filed the information away. Jane touched her hand, her skin feeling warm.
"You will have plenty of time to explore once we are there. Today, you can pack your things."
"Pack?"
"Choose what you want to bring with you. Some clothes, and a few things from your room. Whatever you want to have nearby."
Morwenna looked down at her trainers. Her feet were bare beneath the table. She had forgotten to put her socks on in her rush to share the news. She slid off the chair, her feet hitting the rug. "Tilly," she said. "I need to tell Tilly."
She was already running before the sentence was finished.
The kitchen was warm and humid, the big hearth crackling with a fire that smelled of sweet applewood. Tilly stood at the long wooden counter with a heavy ledger open in front of him. His ears twitched as he tallied the supplies. Two other elves were busy at the deep sink, their hands moving quickly over a stack of copper pots. Morwenna burst through the door, the hinges swinging wide.
"Tilly!"
The elf spun around, his large eyes wide. His ears went up, then flattened, then went up again. "Little miss! You are awake. Tilly was worried. Tilly came to check, but the mistress said to let you sleep, and Tilly..."
"I went to London."
Tilly's mouth snapped shut. His eyes seemed to grow even larger in his small face.
"There was a bus." Morwenna held her arms out as far as they would go. "A big red bus. It was bigger than the carriage. It carried so many people. There were more people on it than there are in the Great Hall at dinner time."
Tilly's ears trembled at the thought. "So many people?"
"And there were cars. So many cars. They moved so fast and they made a lot of noise. The whole street was full of them." She grabbed the edge of the flour-dusted counter and pulled herself up. Her toes barely touched the stone floor. "And there was a park. It had swings. You sit on them and push with your legs and you go up and up into the sky."
She was talking faster now, her excitement bubbling over. Tilly listened with his whole body, his ears twitching and his eyes fixed on her face. The other elves had stopped their scrubbing. They stood at the sink, soapy water dripping from their hands, watching her in silence.
"And a slide," she said. "A silver slide that was taller than the greenhouse. You climb up the ladder and push off and you go so fast." She looked at Tilly, her small chest heaving slightly. "I went four times."
Tilly pressed his small hands together. "Four times. The little miss went four times."
"I raced a boy. He was five. I won."
Tilly made a soft sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. Morwenna let go of the counter and walked back toward the door. At the threshold, she paused and looked back at the small elf.
"We go again tomorrow. To a village. The Keith village. Dada said we will stay for a few days. Then we go to London again for a long time."
Tilly's ears drooped toward the floorboards. "A long time."
Morwenna crossed the kitchen back to him. She reached up and patted his hand. His skin felt dry and warm, and his long fingers were trembling slightly. "I will come back," she said.
Tilly nodded, his large eyes very bright in the firelight. "Tilly knows."
She left him standing at the counter and went to find the portraits. The gallery was long and quiet. Morning light streamed through the tall, narrow windows in slanted gold bars, illuminating the tiny dust motes. The portraits watched her pass, their painted eyes following the small, white-haired figure as she moved across the polished wood floor.
Edmund was the first. She stopped in front of his frame, the dark oils of his library background appearing deep in the morning glow. "I went to London," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the stillness.
Edmund lowered his book, resting it against the velvet of his painted sleeve. "So I have heard."
"There were swings. And a slide. And a round thing that spins until the world turns into a blur."
"So I have heard."
She looked up at his painted face. He was smiling. It was a small, subtle curve of his lips, but it was there, hidden in the brushstrokes. "I will be gone for a long time," she said, her fingers twisting her shirt's hem. "A few days at the village. Then London for the rest."
Edmund closed his book with a silent, painted thud. "A long time for you, perhaps. Not so long for us. We have seen many seasons pass from these walls. We will be here when you return."
She gave a small nod, feeling the weight of his words. She walked to the next frame. Isolde was already watching her, her sharp features appearing softer than usual in the warm light. Her gown was a vibrant blue that seemed to shimmer as the sun hit the canvas.
"I will miss you," Morwenna said.
Isolde's mouth curved into a gentle arc. "We will miss you too, little one. You will have much to tell us of the world beyond the gates. Tell us about your travels when you return."
"I will tell you everything. Every single thing."
She moved further down the gallery, her footsteps sounding like soft heartbeats on the wood. She stopped at the old woman's frame last. The white-haired ancestor was already looking at her, her ancient eyes holding a look of recognition.
"I'm going to the mundane world," Morwenna said, standing as tall as she could. "To the Keith village. Then London."
The old woman said nothing for a long moment. She simply watched, her gaze steady and unblinking. Morwenna waited, the silence stretching between them. "You have grown," the woman said at last.
Morwenna looked down at her hands. They were her hands, small and pale, yet they felt different. "I'm four," she said.
The old woman's mouth did something that might have been a smile, a flicker of amusement in the ancient paint. "Yes."
Morwenna looked back at her, meeting that steady gaze. "I will be back."
"I know."
She walked away, the light from the windows warming her back as she headed toward the nursery. The room felt warm and smelled of sun-warmed wood. Her bed stayed unmade, the sheets tossed aside, and her nightclothes were crumpled on the chair.
The small carved serpent sat on the nightstand where she had left it, its wooden scales catching the light. The silver locket lay beside it, reflecting a tiny glint of gold. Cinder lay on the rug with his head resting on his paws, his tail giving a single, slow thump as she entered.
She opened the wardrobe. Her mundane clothes were folded on the lower shelf, arranged neatly by her mother. There were shirts, shorts, a grey jumper, and socks decorated with tiny pink flowers. Morwenna reached in and pulled them out, laying them carefully across the rumpled bed. Her fingers paused on the white shirt with the fox, the cotton fabric feeling soft and light.
Cinder leapt up at once, his claws clicking on the bedframe, and settled himself right in the middle of the pile.
"Move," she said, giving him a gentle nudge.
He only looked at her, his amber eyes wide and stubborn. She lifted him, feeling his warmth and the vibration of a low chuff, and placed him on the pillow. He turned twice, treading the fabric with his paws, then sat again to watch her.
She began to fold. She started with the shorts, smoothing the denim creases flat with her palm. Then she moved to the shirts, folding each one in half and then again, setting them into a neat, square stack. The heavy grey jumper went on top, its wool feeling thick and sturdy. Socks were folded into little balls and placed beside the stack, along with small white underwear.
She paused, studying the pile. It looked very small against the vastness of her bed. She added another shirt, another pair of shorts, and more socks. The stack grew taller, and she felt a sense of satisfaction. Her gaze shifted to the drawer where she kept her ribbons. She took one, a strip of green silk, and tucked it into the pocket of her jacket.
She found the small bag Jane had left near the wardrobe. It was dark green canvas with a long shoulder strap. She began to pack the clothes inside, pressing them down with her small fists to make space for everything. Cinder's tail thumped once against the pillow, a rhythmic sound in the quiet room.
Morwenna went to the washroom and returned with her toothbrush, placing it carefully into a side pocket of the green canvas bag. She took the book she had bought in London—the one still wrapped in its crisp, crinkling brown paper—and set it on top of the folded clothes.
She stood for a moment, looking at her work. The bag rested in the centre of her bed, looking full and purposeful. The silver locket now hung around her neck, the metal feeling warm against her skin where it rested over her heart.
On the nightstand, her leather pouch waited.
She crossed the room and picked it up, feeling the familiar weight of the soft, worn serpent pouch. Inside lay her treasures: the grey memory stone, the silver box, and the crystal sphere, alongside the small dark box from Sylvaine and the silver bell from Saoirse. She tied the pouch at her waist, finding the weight of the objects a comfort against her hip as she moved.
The morning room remained quiet when she returned. The breakfast dishes had been cleared away, leaving only the faint scent of Earl Grey and buttered toast. Jack was gone to his study. Jane sat by the window with a book she wasn't actually reading, her green eyes fixed on the garden's grey expanse. Aldric and Seraphina had already retreated to the library, while Saoirse remained stretched out on the settee, her breathing slow and rhythmic as she dozed.
Morwenna climbed onto the chair beside her mother, the wood cool against her legs. Cinder followed her, settling into a russet ball at her feet. "I packed," she said, her voice sounding certain.
Jane closed her book, resting her thumb between the heavy pages. "Already, petite?"
Morwenna gave a firm nod. "Clothes. My toothbrush. The book. My pouch." She touched the leather at her waist, feeling the objects shift with a muffled clink. "Everything."
Jane smiled, and the warmth in her eyes reached her face. "That was fast."
"I don't have much."
Jane smiled, and the warmth in her eyes reached her face, chasing away the fatigue. Her hand found Morwenna's and held it, her fingers long and cool. "You will have more soon," she said. "We can buy things in London. Whatever you want."
. . .
Morwenna was awake long before Jane came to get her on the morning of their departure. She had already dressed herself with meticulous precision, choosing a soft cotton blouse the colour of pale cream with fine, intricate stitching at the collar.
She wore a pair of light linen shorts that fell just above her knees. The fabric felt much gentler than the stiff denim she had worn to the park, feeling easy against her skin. Her socks were a pure white, trimmed with tiny embroidered flowers at the cuff, and her blue trainers were tied tight. She had checked the double knots twice to ensure they wouldn't slip.
Her bag waited by the nursery door, packed and ready for the long journey ahead. Jane stopped in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the hall's soft, candle-lit glow. "You are ready."
Morwenna gave a firm nod, her heart giving a small, expectant thump. "I'm ready."
They went down the stairs together, their footsteps a quiet, scuffing rhythm in the stillness. The entrance hall was lit with flickering candles that cast long, dancing shadows across the marble floorboards.
The fountain murmured in the centre, the water's tinkling sound echoing off the high ceiling. The portraits were all awake and watching from their gilded frames. Edmund gave a solemn nod as they passed his frame, while Isolde pressed her painted hand to her heart, her expression uncharacteristically soft. The old woman with white hair simply watched with her steady, ancient eyes.
Aldric stood near the heavy oak door with Seraphina. His hands remained clasped firmly behind his back, and his face stayed as still as carved stone. Seraphina had her hand resting lightly on his arm, her fingers pale against his dark green robes.
Saoirse was already there, her long travelling coat on and her bag slung over one shoulder. Jack stood beside her, his own leather bag resting at his feet. Tilly stood near the kitchen door, clutching a woven basket in his small hands. His large ears were pressed flat against his head, and his eyes stayed watery.
Morwenna walked over to her grandparents. Aldric crouched down until he sat eye-level with her. He looked at her face for a long moment, as if memorising every detail of her features, then reached out and straightened her shirt's collar. It was already perfectly straight.
"You will be gone for almost a year," he said, his voice low and resonant.
Morwenna nodded.
"That's a long time."
She nodded again, her throat feeling tight. He placed his hand on her head. It felt warm and heavy, a grounding weight that seemed to settle the restless humming in her limbs.
"You will write to us."
It wasn't a question; it was an instruction.
"Every week," Morwenna promised. "Mama said I must."
"Every week." He nodded slowly, his brown gaze intense. "And you will be careful. In the mundane world, you will remember the rules we taught you."
"I will."
"You will let your mother and father and Saoirse look after you."
Morwenna looked at him, her eyes searching his. "You look after Gran-ma."
Something flickered in his face—a brief, sharp ripple in his stoic expression. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then suddenly pulled her into a brief, hard embrace. His arms felt strong and protective, and his chin pressed firmly against the top of her head. He smelled of old parchment and the forest's faint, bitter scent. "Write," he said again, his voice slightly gruff.
He released her and stood up. Seraphina knelt in his place, her silk robes whispering against the marble. She took Morwenna's hands in hers. Her fingers felt cool and steady.
"I will miss you," she said softly.
Morwenna squeezed her grandmother's hands back. "I will miss you too."
Seraphina's mouth curved. It was a small smile, but it reached her eyes, turning them bright. "You will see things. Many things. Pay attention to them and remember them well. When you come back, you will tell us everything."
"I will."
Seraphina held her gaze for a moment longer, her expression full of quiet, fierce affection. Then she kissed Morwenna's forehead and stood. Saoirse stepped forward, a restless energy radiating from her. She was grinning, her eyes stayed bright. "Ready, little monster?"
Morwenna looked at the door. It stayed closed, a heavy barrier between her and the unknown. Beyond it, the carriage waited. "Yes."
The door opened. Cold air hit her face, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine needles. The sky stayed a deep, bruised purple, with the last stars fading into the horizon. The carriage stood on the gravel, the thestrals motionless and silent, their harnesses glinting faintly in the light spilling from the hall. Tilly pressed the basket into Jane's hands and stepped back, his head bowed.
Morwenna turned at the threshold. Aldric and Seraphina stood together in the hall's warm light, their silhouettes tall and regal. The fountain continued to murmur behind them. The portraits watched from their frames, a silent audience to her departure.
"Goodbye," she said, her voice clear in the morning air.
Aldric gave a single, slow nod. Seraphina raised her hand once in a silent blessing. Morwenna turned and walked to the carriage, her trainers crunching on the gravel. Jack lifted her inside, his grip sure. The seats were the same dark leather, smelling of age and polish, and the windows were the same tinted glass that turned the world into shadows. Jane climbed in after her, and Saoirse came last, pulling the door shut with a solid, echoing thunk.
The carriage began to move. Morwenna pressed her face to the cool glass. The manor remained there, a massive silhouette of grey stone and dark windows. The door stayed open, showing a rectangle of golden light where Aldric and Seraphina stood. They appeared small already, their figures shrinking as the carriage pulled away. It rolled forward with a steady, rhythmic sway. The great door finally closed, and the light vanished.
She watched the manor continue to shrink. It became smaller, a lone grey shape against the dark, looming trees, until the forest swallowed it completely. The windows, the towers, and the carved stone serpents were all gone. She kept watching the darkness. The woods passed by in a thick blur. The horizon slowly lightened, turning from purple to a watery grey. The road stretched ahead, the gravel path giving way to packed earth as the wheels turned with a persistent, low hum.
The gate rose ahead of them. It was a dark, iron lattice with the Keith crest at its centre. She watched the gate grow larger, the iron bars appearing stark against the pale sky. It passed, a brief shadow over the carriage roof, and then disappeared behind her. She watched until she could no longer see the ironwork, until the manor's boundary was only a memory in the mist.
Jane's hand found hers on the leather seat. Morwenna held on tight, her fingers interlaced with her mother's. The carriage rolled on. The trees began to thin, and the outer gate appeared ahead, a dark, straight line against the horizon. It grew as they approached, the iron bars appearing black and sharp. The silver crest caught the growing morning light, flashing once.
The carriage slowed to a crawl. The gate opened with a slow, grinding sound. They passed through the threshold, and the world changed.
She felt it again—that same unmistakable shift she had felt during the park trip. The air seemed to lighten, losing the ancient pressure of the wards. The world's sounds sharpened; the wind and the birds became distinct and clear.
The road widened considerably and the trees thinned until they were only scattered shapes against the pale, expansive sky. She turned away from the window. Saoirse was already busy unpacking the basket Tilly had provided, pulling out fresh bread rolls wrapped in clean white cloth and a small glass jar of golden honey.
"Hungry?" Saoirse asked, her voice breaking the silence.
Morwenna took a roll. The bread felt pleasantly warm. She spread a thick dollop of honey on it with her finger, the sweetness sticky and rich. She ate it in small, careful bites while she watched the open fields pass by. Jack handed her a cup of hot tea. She held it in both hands, the warmth seeping through the porcelain.
The road went on. The sun rose higher, the light shifting from a dull grey to a bright, shimmering gold that lit up the frost on the grass. She ate another roll and a crisp slice of apple. Cinder pressed firmly against her legs under the seat, his warmth a steady, furry comfort.
The carriage began to slow. She looked out the window again. There was nothing immediate to see—just the long road, the rolling fields, and the wide, pale sky. But Jack was already standing up, his movements purposeful as he reached for his leather bag.
"We are here."
The carriage came to a stop, the compartment's heavy sway finally settling on its springs. Jack opened the door and stepped out first, his boots crunching on the loose stones. The air that rushed in was cold, but it wasn't the manor's heavy, ancient cold. It smelled of damp earth and crushed grass.
Jane took her hand, her grip firm, and they stepped down together. The gravel beneath her trainers felt exactly like the manor's gravel. She stood there and looked around at the horizon. There was nothing immediate to see beyond the road's long, grey ribbon, the rolling brown fields, and the sky's vast, pale expanse.
Jack moved to the front of the carriage. He spoke to the thestrals in a low murmur, patting their leathery necks, then returned to the group. He held out his hand toward Morwenna. "Ready?"
She took it, her small fingers wrapping around his palm. The world folded.
She stayed ready for the sensation this time. Her chest still tightened, and her ears popped with a sharp click. Her stomach still tried to leave her behind in the void, but she kept her green eyes wide open, watching the light stretch and snap. The ground beneath her feet steadied. She let out a long, shaky breath and straightened her posture.
They were standing on a narrow road lined with high, dense hedrowes on either side, their leaves bright and waxy with new growth. A car was parked at the lane's edge, its engine idling with a low, rhythmic thrumming sound.
Morwenna looked at the vehicle. It was a deep, dark green, almost black in the morning light, with clean, sharp lines and dark windows. It appeared solid and heavy, and the metal gleamed with a deep polish. When she moved closer, she saw the creamy leather seats inside and the dark, polished walnut trim on the dashboard.
The car door opened with a soft, mechanical click. A man stepped out into the road. He was tall, his dark hair touched with the same premature silver at the temples as her father. His face looked familiar; his jaw had the same sharp line as Jack's, and his eyes were the same deep, dark brown as Aldric's. He smiled, the expression reaching his eyes.
"You made good time," he said.
Jack shook his hand, the gesture brief. "Thank you for meeting us."
"William would have come himself, but the harvest is in," the man said. "He sent me instead." He looked at Jane, then at Saoirse, then at Morwenna. His gaze stopped on the girl, lingering with quiet intensity. "This is her."
Morwenna looked back at him. He had the Keith hair—black and silver—but there was no magic vibrating behind him. She could feel its absence clearly; it was like standing near a massive hearth where the logs were piled high, yet they provided no heat.
"I'm Thomas. Your father's cousin. Your great-something-grandfather was my great-something-grandfather. We share blood, even if it doesn't show the same way."
She studied his face. The lines around his eyes were deeper than her father's, etched there by sun and wind. He worked outside, and she could see the proof in his calloused hands and the tan of his skin.
"I'm Nimue," she said.
His smile widened. "I know."
Cinder pressed against her legs, his fur soft. His ears swivelled forward, tracking every movement. Thomas looked down at the fox, then back up at her. "He comes with you?"
"He goes everywhere."
Thomas nodded, as if a pet fox was a perfectly normal travelling companion. He straightened and opened the car door. The leather seats were a pale, creamy colour, and the interior smelled of citrus and clean upholstery. Saoirse climbed in first, sliding across the seat. Jane followed, settling into the middle. Jack placed their bags in the boot with a dull thud, then turned to help Morwenna up.
She sat between Jane and Saoirse, her legs dangling off the edge of the seat. Cinder jumped in after her, his paws light on the leather. He turned in two tight circles and settled on her lap, his warm weight familiar against her thighs. Thomas closed the door and got into the driver's seat. The engine's sound was quiet, barely a hum.
"Thornwell is about an hour from here," Thomas said, glancing at them through the rearview mirror. "William has the house ready. He was up before dawn, checking every room."
He pulled onto the road, the tyres crunching softly on the asphalt. The car moved smoothly, the green hedgerows sliding past the window.
Morwenna watched them go, her hand resting on Cinder's head. The fields opened up on either side, appearing green and gold in the strengthening morning light. The sky was perfectly clear now, the last of the morning grey burned away by the sun.
She pressed her face to the cool glass. The car was quiet, the road was straight, and the world outside was entirely new.
She watched it all pass.