The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 28

Garrick

Three months. Ninety days since Rumblestone. Since the vortex collapsed, taking twenty years of my life with it. Since magic bled back into Latara, turning everything upside down.

Summer at the lake had been a sun-drenched, water-soaked balm after the raw wound of Rumblestone. Long, lazy dinners on the porch with Archie’s mom and dad, the four of us piecing together a new kind of normal. Days were spent in the cool embrace of the lake, Archie’s laughter echoing as she explored her water magic, sending shimmering globes dancing across the surface while I watched her, utterly captivated.

And the nights… God, the nights were ours. Tangled sheets and whispered confessions, a desperate, joyful reclaiming of bodies and time, as if we could somehow make up for those stolen twenty years, one breathless moment after another.

When the haze of summer gave way to the crisp edge of fall, we returned to Stellura — a city still buzzing and blinking with its own magical awakening. Archie spent the night at my place and has been there ever since. Her smoothie ingredients are now in my fridge, the scent of her cherry lip balm a permanent fixture in the bathroom.

It was… right. More than right.

I stand before my fifth-grade class, the familiar rhythm of teaching a welcome anchor in this changed world. Outside the tall classroom windows, Stellura is being repaired and rebuilt. Normal, but not.

“So, the ancient Latarans,” Maya asks, her hand in the air, “they really used magic?”

“The evidence suggests so,” I reply, tapping the interactive whiteboard. An image of Branwen’s seal appears. “And it seems that magic wasn’t entirely gone. Just… dormant.”

“Like in the appliances?” Harry pipes up.

“Exactly.” I try not to flinch at the memory. The toaster, Arvid, sits on my desk at home now, not the staff lounge. Safer that way. And he always has so much to say. “Certain metals, certain conditions, allowed their essences to return during the syzygy.”

A quiet ache pulses in my side where Vessa’s knife bit deep. A physical reminder of the cost. Twenty years. Sometimes, looking in the mirror, I think I see hints of it. A tiredness around the eyes that wasn’t there before. But perhaps I’m imagining it.

The dismissal bell rings, jarring me from my thoughts. Chaos erupts as kids gather belongings, their chatter louder, more energetic than usual. Maybe it’s the magic in the air. Or maybe it’s just the relief of school ending.

“Remember your history reading!” I call over the din. “Focus on the post-landing settlements!” Just because magic is here doesn’t mean we forget the history of how we came to Latara. (These kids have much to learn.)

They stream out, leaving me in the sudden quiet. I sink into my chair, the silence pressing in. It’s been three months of change. Finding a new normal in a world where your neighbor might accidentally levitate their garbage cans or your toaster might offer philosophical advice.

At the classroom door, Archie leans against the frame, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looks good. Healthy. The haunted look in her eyes has faded, replaced by a warmth that still makes my breath catch. She’s wearing one of my old button-down shirts over a printed tee, and the black pants that hug her curves. My shirt hangs loose on her, making her look small and adorable. And ridiculously sexy.

“Ready to escape, Professor Elliott?”

I grin, standing up. “More than ready. Long week.”

“Tell me about it.” She pushes off the doorframe, walking towards me. “The third graders are convinced they can talk to squirrels now. Led to an… incident during recess.”

I chuckle, gathering my satchel. “Sounds about right.”

We walk out together, the comfortable silence stretching between us. It’s easy now. Easier than it ever was before Rumblestone, before the lake, before everything.

“I found something,” I say, pulling a thin, leather-bound book from my bag as we step out into the bustling schoolyard. A student zooms past on a hovering skateboard, leaving a trail of faint blue sparks in her wake. Magic is everywhere these days.

Archie takes the book, her fingers tracing the worn cover. “What is it?”

“More about Branwen. Found it tucked away in the rebuilt archives.” I lean closer and open the marked page I identified earlier, pointing to a passage. “This part… it suggests that as the ambient magic here strengthens, those like her, like Ysroth and Arvid, might… regain physical form, eventually.”

Archie’s eyes widen. She glances up at me, then back at the book. “Physical form? Really?” She bites her lip. “What would that even look like?”

“No idea.” I shrug. “But it’s… something. Maybe.”

We start walking, leaving the school behind. Stellura unfolds around us, a tapestry of old and new, mundane and magical. An automated street cleaner sweeps fallen leaves while a nearby garden overflows with glowing, oversized flowers that weren’t there yesterday. A flock of pigeons scatters, one of them dodging a self-piloting delivery drone with an almost human-like scoff.

“It’s still weird, isn’t it?” Archie murmurs, tucking the book into her own bag.

“Understatement.” I watch a kid use a minor telekinetic push to retrieve a dropped ice cream cone. He pops it back in his mouth. Gross. “But people are adapting. Finding ways to use it.”

“Or misuse it,” she counters.

“Power’s always been a double-edged sword,” I say, thinking of Vessa. “Magic doesn’t change that. It’s about the choices people make.”

She slips her hand into mine, her fingers warm. “Think we made the right choice? Back there?”

Twenty years. The question hangs unspoken.

I squeeze her hand. “Yeah. I do.”

We reach the harbor as the sun begins its slow descent, painting the sky in fiery oranges and soft purples. The water glimmers, reflecting the city lights and the fainter, shifting glows of underwater magic.

Archie pulls her hand free and steps to the edge of the pier. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. The water before her stirs. A small funnel rises, shimmering, holding its shape for a moment before dissolving into the waves. She smiles, a genuine, unguarded smile of pure pleasure. She tries again, shaping a delicate, twisting current that dances on the surface. Her control is better now, more fluid, more confident.

More her.

I watch her, my heart doing that familiar, stupid ache in my chest. Admiration. Love. Gratitude. We survived. We’re here. Together.

The thought hits me with the force of a physical blow. The future is uncertain. Our time might be shorter than we planned. But every second we have? I want it to be with her.

I walk up behind her, snaking my arms around her waist. She leans back against me, tilting her head to look up at my face. The setting sun catches the gold flecks in her brown eyes.

“Archie,” I start, my voice thick. This wasn’t planned. Not rehearsed. Just… necessary. “We lost time. Years we won’t get back.”

Her smile fades, a flicker of sadness in her eyes. She knows.

“But the time we have left…” I turn her to face me, holding her gaze. “I want to spend it with you. All of it. Every day.” My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears. Here goes nothing. “Move in with me.”

Her breath catches. Her eyes search mine, wide, questioning. Then a radiant smile breaks across her face. Tears well up, shimmering in the twilight.

“Really?” she whispers, throwing her arms around my neck, burying her face against my neck. “Oh, Garrick, yes.”

I crush her against me, relief breaking in my chest like a dizzying wave. She pulls back, laughing through her tears, and kisses me, fierce and joyful.

“Took you long enough,” she murmurs against my lips.

I chuckle, pulling her close again. “Worth the wait.”

“What about… you know who?” she asks, smiling up at me.

Right. Our cabal of magicians still stuck in appliances. 

“Should we go home and ask their opinion? I mean, I’m sure they would love… no, be ecstatic to tell us what they think of this.”

Archie laughs against my chest, a bright, happy sound that chases away the last of the shadows.

“No, thanks. Let’s not.”

I hold her tighter, looking out at the shimmering water, the city lights flickering on behind us.

The future is a question mark on a page we haven’t turned yet. But we’ll face it, together, hand in hand.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.