Stacy had been watching the candle for nearly a minute.

Caelwyn noticed because Stacy did very few things for nearly a minute without explaining why.

CAELWYN:
“Interesting candle?”

STACY:
“No.”

CAELWYN:
“You’ve been staring at it.”

STACY:
“I’m thinking.”

CAELWYN:
“About the candle.”

STACY:
“No.”

CAELWYN:
“While staring at the candle.”

Stacy looked at him.

STACY:
“Would you like me to move?”

CAELWYN:
“Not particularly.”

She looked back.

It wasn’t really a candle.

A little electric light sat inside coloured glass on the edge of the fountain.

Around it were dozens more.

Names.

Photographs.

Notes.

Flowers.

The celebration continued behind them.

Music.

Laughter.

Glasses.

People dancing badly enough to make Sean look almost competent.

Above them, Bluetime had long since disappeared.

Doskvol glittered beneath the dark interior of the Bubble.

Everything was ordinary.

That was precisely what bothered Stacy.

STACY:
“I felt it again.”

Caelwyn didn’t ask what.

CAELWYN:
“When?”

STACY:
“Just now.”

CAELWYN:
“The magical moment?”

She grimaced.

STACY:
“Don’t call it that.”

CAELWYN:
“What would you prefer?”

STACY:
“I don’t know.”

CAELWYN:
“Magical moment is shorter.”

STACY:
“It presupposes magic.”

CAELWYN:
“It presupposes an adjective.”

STACY:
“That’s how it starts.”

CAELWYN:
“How what starts?”

STACY:
“Nonsense.”

Caelwyn smiled.

STACY:
“I’m serious.”

CAELWYN:
“I know.”

She pointed towards the square.

STACY:
“Last week it was the song.”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

STACY:
“Hundreds of people singing together. Perfectly explicable.”

CAELWYN:
“Mostly badly.”

STACY:
“That was also explicable.”

CAELWYN:
“Sean?”

STACY:
“Especially Sean.”

Caelwyn laughed.

Stacy didn’t.

Not because she was frightened.

Because something had changed.

STACY:
“Afterwards I started noticing things.”

CAELWYN:
“What things?”

STACY:
“That’s the problem.”

She gestured vaguely.

STACY:
“Things.”

A couple stopped beside one of the little lights.

The man touched two fingers to the glass.

The woman beside him closed her eyes.

They stayed like that for several seconds.

Then they walked away.

Nothing happened.

Stacy watched them.

STACY:
“That.”

CAELWYN:
“They remembered someone.”

STACY:
“Probably.”

CAELWYN:
“You disagree?”

STACY:
“No.”

She hesitated.

STACY:
“I noticed it.”

CAELWYN:
“You were standing beside it.”

STACY:
“No. I mean I noticed it differently.”

Caelwyn waited.

STACY:
“Before the other night, I’d have seen two people at a memorial.”

CAELWYN:
“And now?”

STACY:
“Now part of me wonders what they felt.”

CAELWYN:
“That sounds healthy.”

STACY:
“That’s not all.”

She lowered her voice.

STACY:
“I wonder whether anything felt them back.”

Caelwyn stopped smiling.

Not because the suggestion was absurd.

In Doskvol, that would have been a remarkably stupid reason to dismiss it.

STACY:
“And there. Yesterday.”

She pointed towards an alley beyond the square.

STACY:
“I walked past that street and had the strongest feeling I shouldn’t go down it.”

CAELWYN:
“Did you?”

STACY:
“No.”

CAELWYN:
“Why?”

STACY:
“Because I had the strongest feeling I shouldn’t go down it.”

CAELWYN:
“Seems reasonable.”

STACY:
“There was probably nothing there.”

CAELWYN:
“Probably.”

STACY:
“You’re not helping.”

CAELWYN:
“I haven’t said anything.”

STACY:
“Exactly.”

She folded her arms.

STACY:
“Then this morning I woke up from a dream and for about ten seconds I was certain it mattered.”

CAELWYN:
“What was it?”

STACY:
“I don’t remember.”

CAELWYN:
“Convenient.”

STACY:
“Very.”

She looked at him.

STACY:
“Do you see the problem?”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

That caught her.

STACY:
“You do?”

CAELWYN:
“You opened the door.”

Stacy frowned.

STACY:
“What door?”

CAELWYN:
“The one you spent years insisting wasn’t there.”

STACY:
“I have never insisted the supernatural doesn’t exist.”

CAELWYN:
“No.”

He looked around Doskvol.

At electroplasmic lights.

At the dark Bubble.

At a city whose technology had grown alongside things that another world might have called impossible.

CAELWYN:
“That would be particularly difficult here.”

STACY:
“Exactly.”

CAELWYN:
“But knowing that unusual things exist isn’t the same as allowing every unusual feeling to matter.”

Stacy went quiet.

That was closer.

CAELWYN:
“You’ve always had filters.”

STACY:
“Everyone has filters.”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

STACY:
“They’re necessary.”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

STACY:
“If every coincidence is a message, you’re an idiot.”

CAELWYN:
“Possibly.”

STACY:
“If every dream is a prophecy, you’re an idiot.”

CAELWYN:
“Quite possibly.”

STACY:
“If every uncomfortable room is haunted—”

CAELWYN:
“You become very difficult to invite anywhere.”

She almost smiled.

STACY:
“But if you dismiss everything…”

Caelwyn waited.

STACY:
“You might miss something.”

There it was.

Not belief.

Not magic.

Not faith.

Permission.

The possibility that an experience might be allowed to remain unexplained for a little longer.

STACY:
“And I don’t like what happens after that.”

CAELWYN:
“What happens?”

She pointed towards the lights.

STACY:
“You start looking.”

A gust moved through the square.

Several paper notes fluttered.

A light flickered.

Stacy’s eyes went to it immediately.

Then she swore.

STACY:
“See?”

CAELWYN:
“It flickered.”

STACY:
“I know.”

CAELWYN:
“Electrical fault.”

STACY:
“Probably.”

CAELWYN:
“And yet you looked.”

STACY:
“Yes.”

CAELWYN:
“Because now it might mean something.”

STACY:
“Yes.”

She said it angrily.

Caelwyn leaned against the fountain.

CAELWYN:
“That frightens you.”

STACY:
“No.”

He waited.

STACY:
“It concerns me.”

He waited.

STACY:
“Fine. A little.”

CAELWYN:
“Why?”

Stacy considered the lights.

STACY:
“Because once you allow the possibility, where do you stop?”

That was the question.

Not whether there was another side.

Not yet.

Not what lived there.

Not whether spirits listened.

Not whether dreams could carry messages.

The question came earlier.

What happens to you when you begin allowing the possibility?

STACY:
“The mind is extremely good at finding patterns.”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

STACY:
“Especially after it’s been told to look for them.”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

STACY:
“So if I start paying attention, I will notice more.”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

STACY:
“That doesn’t mean there’s more there.”

CAELWYN:
“No.”

STACY:
“But it doesn’t mean there isn’t.”

CAELWYN:
“No.”

She sighed.

STACY:
“I preferred you when you argued.”

CAELWYN:
“No, you didn’t.”

STACY:
“No.”

They watched the celebration.

A song began somewhere across the square.

Not the song from before.

Nothing special.

A girl laughed.

Someone shouted for another drink.

An Autopod passed beyond the lights.

The city hummed.

Then Stacy noticed something else.

A woman standing alone beside the fountain.

Eyes closed.

Head slightly tilted.

Listening.

STACY:
“What is she doing?”

Caelwyn looked.

CAELWYN:
“I don’t know.”

STACY:
“She looks like she’s listening.”

CAELWYN:
“She probably is.”

STACY:
“To what?”

CAELWYN:
“I don’t know.”

The woman opened her eyes.

For one strange second, she looked directly at Stacy.

Then someone crossed between them.

When the person passed, the woman was walking away.

Stacy stared after her.

CAELWYN:
“Coincidence?”

STACY:
“Probably.”

CAELWYN:
“Do you want to know?”

Stacy looked at him.

That was different.

Until now they had been talking about ideas.

Experiences.

Possibilities.

This was a choice.

She could walk after the woman.

Ask what she had been listening to.

Or she could stay where she was.

Nothing required her to follow.

Nothing required an answer.

Nothing had even happened.

STACY:
“This is exactly the problem.”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

STACY:
“If I follow her, I’ve already decided it matters.”

CAELWYN:
“No.”

STACY:
“Haven’t I?”

CAELWYN:
“You’ve decided you’re curious.”

STACY:
“That’s how people get into trouble.”

CAELWYN:
“Frequently.”

She looked towards the crowd.

The woman was almost gone.

STACY:
“And if there’s nothing?”

CAELWYN:
“Then there’s nothing.”

STACY:
“And if I imagine something?”

CAELWYN:
“Then you examine it.”

STACY:
“And if there is something?”

Caelwyn didn’t answer immediately.

CAELWYN:
“Then you’ll know why caution matters.”

Stacy looked back at him.

CAELWYN:
“Opening yourself doesn’t mean believing everything.”

STACY:
“No.”

CAELWYN:
“And scepticism doesn’t require pretending you never felt anything.”

That landed.

Stacy watched the woman disappear into the crowd.

Too late now.

Or perhaps not.

She could still follow.

STACY:
“You’re coming.”

CAELWYN:
“I didn’t say I was.”

STACY:
“You are absolutely coming.”

CAELWYN:
“Why?”

STACY:
“Because if I start talking to strangers about invisible things on my own, I want a witness.”

Caelwyn pushed himself away from the fountain.

CAELWYN:
“Scientific method.”

STACY:
“Exactly.”

They started walking.

After several steps, Stacy stopped.

CAELWYN:
“What?”

She looked back at the little lights.

Then at the crowd where the woman had disappeared.

STACY:
“This might be nothing.”

CAELWYN:
“Yes.”

STACY:
“It probably is nothing.”

CAELWYN:
“Possibly.”

STACY:
“And I reserve the right to mock you if this becomes embarrassing.”

CAELWYN:
“Of course.”

Another pause.

CAELWYN:
“Do you still want to go?”

Stacy looked into the crowd.

For years, caution had meant keeping the unknown at a useful distance.

Observe it.

Measure it.

Name it.

Classify it.

Control the variables.

But perhaps there was another kind of caution.

The caution required when you stepped closer.

Eyes open.

Mind open.

Not so open that everything entered.

Not so closed that nothing could.

Stacy took another step.

STACY:
“Yes.”

Caelwyn followed.

Neither knew what they were looking for.

Perhaps there was nothing to find.

That was still possible.

But something had changed.

Not in the square.

Not necessarily in the world.

In Stacy.

She had decided to look.

And sometimes the first dangerous step towards the unknown is not casting a spell.

It is not summoning anything.

It is not believing.

It is simply allowing yourself to ask:

What if?

And then taking one step closer.

Do you dare?

CTA:

Have you ever deliberately opened yourself to an experience you would normally have dismissed — a strange feeling, a dream, a coincidence, a place, a moment of intuition?

What happened when you stopped immediately explaining it away and simply paid attention?

Did you discover something?

Did your own mind begin creating patterns?

Or did you come away with more questions than before?

Tell us where you draw the line between curiosity and belief.

Explore Blades ’68 with Mythveil Chronicles.