[BL] I Didn't Sign Up For This-Chapter 66: In Which We Say Goodbye (Just In Case)

The protective gear took less time than I expected.

Henrik had most of the materials ready, anchor crystals, dimensional stabilizers, things with names I couldn’t pronounce. What took actual effort was the infusion.

"You’ll need to channel power into these simultaneously," Henrik explained, laying out two pendants on the workbench. "The binding will sync them, create a resonance link, if you get separated in limbo, the pendants will pull you back to each other."

"Like a supernatural GPS," I said.

"More like a lifeline. Limbo distorts space, you could be inches apart and not find each other for hours." He looked between us. "These pendants prevent that."

Azryth picked up one of the pendants, a simple silver disc on a leather cord. "So we should infuse them now?"

"Yes, both of you, with equal power contribution."

I took the second pendant, on Azryth’s count of three, we channeled.

The binding responded immediately, eager to merge our energies. The pendants heated in our hands, silver turning to amber-gold as power flowed through them, I felt the synchronization happening, our essences braiding together, locking into the metal.

When we finished, both pendants pulsed with warm light.

"Perfect," Henrik said, examining them. "Wear these at all times in limbo, don’t take them off."

Next was the spectral blade.

"Your blade can already cut through most magical constructs," Mara said, pulling out what looked like a vial of liquid starlight. "But limbo’s dimensional threads are different. Older and more resistant, this will enhance the edge."

"What is it?"

"Concentrated arbiter essence, my contact provided it years ago." She handed me the vial. "Manifest the blade, then pour this over it, the enhancement will be permanent."

I summoned the spectral blade. It appeared in my hand, familiar weight, comfortable grip.

Mara opened the vial.

The moment the arbiter essence touched the blade, it screamed. Not audibly, I felt it in my bones, in my teeth, the blade’s golden-white glow shifted, taking on prismatic edges like oil on water.

"What did it do?" I asked, staring at the weapon.

"It made it capable of cutting dimensional fabric," Henrik said. "In limbo, you’ll encounter threads that hold space together. If you need to force a path, that blade can do it now."

I dismissed the weapon, it dissolved but left behind a phantom sensation, heavier than before, more dangerous.

"That’s it for gear," Mara said. "Everything else is mental preparation."

Which brought us to the other problem.

"We need to discuss logistics," Azryth said, looking at Mara and Henrik.

They exchanged glances.

"We’re not going with you," Mara said bluntly.

I blinked. "What?"

"The arbiter contact specified the conditions, they said only bound pairs can enter their realm, something about resonance compatibility." She crossed her arms. "Henrik and I aren’t bound to anything except bad coffee and worse luck."

"So when you said ’we cross into limbo’..." I started.

"I meant we prepare you to cross into limbo, ’Editorial we, metaphorical we’." She met my eyes. "You two are doing this alone."

The reality of that settled like lead.

"You knew you weren’t going with us this whole time," Azryth said.

"I suspected, but I got the confirmation from my contact this morning." Mara didn’t look apologetic. "Would it have changed your decision?"

"No," I admitted. "But a heads-up would’ve been nice."

"Consider this your heads-up, tomorrow at dawn, you cross alone. Henrik and I monitor from this side, maintain the entry point as long as possible."

"Great," I said dryly.

"Reality isn’t great, it just is." She pulled out a map, spreading it on the table. "The entry point is here, an abandoned warehouse district, two hundred miles north. We leave tonight and get into position before dawn, the liminal window only opens at sunrise."

"Why sunrise though?" I asked.

"Because limbo hates certainty, and sunrise is the most uncertain moment of the day. Neither night nor day, just transition." Henrik was packing equipment. "It’s when the barriers are thinnest."

Azryth studied the map. "Extraction plan?"

"You come back through the same entry point, we’ll hold it open for seventy-two hours maximum." Mara’s voice was tight. "After that, the dimensional stress becomes too dangerous, we’d have to close it or risk tearing reality apart in this location."

"What if we’re not back by then?" I asked.

Mara’s expression went hard. "Then you better be back before then, because there is no plan B. We can’t reopen it, we can’t create another entry point. You get only seventy-two hours."

"So don’t be late," Henrik added quietly.

"Wow, no pressure," I muttered.

Mara pulled out a small compass, brass and worn smooth with age. "This was my grandmother’s, a warden compass, it points toward stable paths. In limbo, where direction is meaningless, this will help you navigate."

She held it out to me.

"Mara, I can’t take this. It’s a family heirloom..."

"Which is why I’m trusting you to bring it back." She pressed it into my hand. "My grandmother survived three trips into limbo with this compass. It works, so use it."

The brass was warm against my palm, already humming with faint magic.

"Thank you," I said.

"Just come back." Her voice cracked slightly. "Both of you, please just come back."

Henrik cleared his throat. "One more thing. If you encounter anything in limbo that seems helpful like entities offering assistance, paths that look easier than they should be, don’t trust it."

"Why not?"

"Because limbo feeds on hope the same way it feeds on fear, it’ll show you exactly what you want to see, offer you exactly what you need. And it’ll all be a trap."

"So trust nothing and no one except each other," Azryth said.

"Exactly. The only real thing in limbo will be your binding, everything else is suspect."

I looked at Azryth, his jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed with something I couldn’t name.

Fear, maybe, or determination, or both.

"We should rest," Mara said. "We leave in six hours, you’ll need to be at full strength."

"I’m not sure I can sleep," I admitted.

"Try anyway." She started gathering the maps. "And eat something, Henrik made sandwiches, they’re terrible, but they’re calories."

She left the room. Henrik followed, but not before giving us both a look that clearly said "come back alive."

Which left me and Azryth alone with the weight of what we were about to attempt.

"We’re really doing this," I said.

"Apparently." Azryth picked up one of the pendants, examining it. "Crossing into limbo with minimal backup, trusting ancient beings to provide answers, hoping we can navigate the space between realities without losing our minds."

"Sounds like a normal Thursday when you put it that way."

He almost smiled. "Nothing about our Thursdays has ever been normal."

I moved closer, taking his hand, the pendant warmed between our joined palms.

"Just in case," I said quietly. "In case something goes wrong, I want you to know..." I stopped, not sure how to finish.

"Know what?"

"That I don’t regret any of this, the binding, the rifts, the apocalypse, you. None of it." I looked up at him. "Even if limbo goes badly, even if we don’t make it back, I don’t regret choosing you."

Something shifted in his expression.

"That sounds like a goodbye," he said.

"It’s an ’I love you’ that covers all possibilities." I squeezed his hand. "Including the one where we make it back and I get to say it again."

He pulled me closer, wrapping both arms around me. I felt his heartbeat against my chest, steady despite his fear.

"If something goes wrong in there," he said quietly. "If we get separated, if I start to lose myself.."

"We won’t get separated, that’s what the pendants are for."

"But if we do..."

"Then I’ll find you." I looked up at him. "No matter how long it takes, no matter what limbo throws at me. I’ll find you and pull you back."

"You’re absurdly stubborn."

"You’ve mentioned that."

His lips touched mine and stayed there, not demanding, not hungry, just... there. He drew back only an inch, eyes flicking over my face as if checking something, then kissed me again, deeper this time, slower, as though he was trying to carve the feeling into memory.

When we pulled apart again, his eyes were serious.

"I love you," he said. "And I’m going to make sure we both come back so I can keep saying it."

"That’s a good plan."

"I thought so."

We stood there for a while, just holding each other in the ruined safehouse, preparing for the most dangerous thing we’d attempted yet.

Tomorrow, we’d cross into limbo.

We’d find the arbiters.

We’d get answers about Veyrith’s nexus.

And we’d come back, because the alternative wasn’t acceptable.

The seal pulsed on my wrist.

Yeah, Mom.

I know.

Trust the binding, trust each other, trust that impossible things can happen when you refuse to give up.

We had six hours until departure.

I intended to spend every minute of them with Azryth.

Because tomorrow, we’d face the unknown.

But tonight, we had this.