Colson

When Witches Leave Traps Instead of Goodbyes

Colson POV

Zane was fast.

That part didn’t surprise me. The furball could cross the entire palace in the time it took me to blink—not because he was reckless, but because he was focused. Zane didn’t default to violence like most wolves assumed; he had a good head on his shoulders and the patience to use it. What did surprise me was who came back with him.

Sage.

Alex.

No Amaris.

Zane dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, like he was bracing himself for the conversation he didn’t want to have.

“She’s not here,” he said. “Anywhere.”

“Well that’s unfortunate,” I replied. “Because I’m married to her, and she has a habit of not vanishing without warning.”

My chest tightened anyway.

“I saw her this morning,” Sage said quickly. “She said she was going to pick herbs from the garden. Then she planned to be in her study making potions.”

She paused, eyes flicking toward me.

“That hesitation?” I said. “That’s the part I don’t like.”

Zane lifted a hand as I moved past them. “Colson—”

“I’m not stopping,” I said. “If she’s missing, standing still isn’t going to fix it.”

“Her study is trashed,” Sage said as she followed. “And I don’t mean creative chaos. I mean wrong.”

“Yes,” Alex added. “But the wards haven’t been triggered. Nothing crossed the perimeter.”

“Which means,” I muttered, “either my wife suddenly took up interior destruction as a hobby… or something slipped past magic that really shouldn’t exist.”

Then Zane said it.

“Ezra.”

The temperature dropped.

Sage froze. “That name better be a joke.”

“I’m hilarious,” I said. “Unfortunately, not today.”

“That bastard is supposed to be dead,” she snapped.

“So was I,” I said mildly. “Turns out we’re both terrible at staying that way.”

I turned toward the hall. “Come on. I’ll explain. And no—this will not be a fun explanation.”

Amaris’s study smelled wrong the moment we stepped inside.

Potion glass lay tipped over but not shattered. Books stacked incorrectly—deliberately incorrect. Ingredients left half-used, abandoned mid-spell. It wasn’t destruction.

It was interruption.

“She wouldn’t leave it like this,” Sage whispered.

“No,” I agreed. “She’d haunt me first.”

“The wards should’ve detected anyone else,” Alex said.

“They didn’t detect me either the first time I broke into her study,” I replied. “I’m charming like that.”

Zane shot me a look. “Focus.”

“Focused,” I said, sliding my fingers across Amaris’s desk.

Dust.

I grimaced. “Oh, she’s going to kill me for noticing this late.”

“What?” Zane asked.

“She hates dust,” I said. “Like, bind-your-soul-to-an-object hates it.”

My fingers brushed something etched beneath the grime.

“Found something.”

I wiped the surface clean, revealing faint symbols—Amaris’s handwriting, precise and intentional.

“Please tell me you’re not about to touch it,” Sage said.

“I’m absolutely about to touch it.”

Light detonated outward.

“What the fu—!”

I staggered back, blinking. “Tell me you saw that—”

Everyone was gone.

“…Please don’t tell me you saw that and left without me,” I muttered.

The room felt wrong now. Familiar, but distorted—like a memory that had been edited.

I opened the door.

Not my palace.

“Well that’s new,” I said flatly.

I returned to the desk. When I touched it again, flames burst up violently, forcing me back.

“Okay! Message received!”

The fire collapsed inward, leaving behind a single sheet of paper drifting slowly to the floor.

I stared at it.

“You know,” I muttered, “most people leave notes on the counter. Or the fridge. Not in magical flaming death traps.”

I picked it up.

And my stomach dropped.

Amaris’s handwriting stared back at me—clean, elegant, controlled. Too controlled.

---

Colson,

If you’re reading this, then you already know I’m missing. Please don’t waste time denying it or breaking furniture. I know you well enough to anticipate both.

I snorted despite myself.

“Wow. Straight to calling me out.”

I had a premonition of this day. Like many visions, I could not share what I saw—not even with you. Not because I didn’t trust you, but because some futures resist being spoken aloud. The moment they are shared, they harden.

My jaw tightened.

All I can tell you is this: many die. Many close to me. Close to you. Family. Not by chance, not by war, but by design.

My grip on the paper tightened.

I tried to stop it. I followed every thread, every possibility I could see. In most, I succeeded. In this one… I did not.

That one hurt more than I expected.

This message only activates if I fail to change my fate. If you’re standing in my study right now, then someone outplayed me. Do not underestimate what that means.

“Too late,” I muttered. “Already doing that.”

A plan has been in motion for years—long before you believed yourself free of your past. It was crafted patiently, intelligently, and cruelly. I never saw it clearly until it was already moving.

I swallowed.

In less than seventy-two hours, everything changes. Not just for us—but for every realm we touch.

Fantastic. Love a deadline.

When you leave this room, you will not be in the palace you know. This space is anchored outside of linear time. It exists only to guide you.

I glanced around.

“Of course it does.”

In the top drawer of my desk you will find a pocket watch. This is not a weapon. It is a key. Every time you set it to 6:23 p.m., it will open a portal and return you to this room.

I opened the drawer with shaking fingers. The watch sat there, innocuous and ancient.

Listen carefully, my love. This is where the danger truly begins.

I held my breath.

Every time you enter this room, you will be sent somewhere new when you leave. Different places. Different moments. Different versions of the world.

Of course.

Once you leave a location, all memory of you will be erased from those you encountered there. They will not remember your name. Your face. Your voice. You must accept this now, or it will destroy you later.

“Wow,” I whispered. “You really know how to take the fun out of being charming.”

When the pocket watch begins to vibrate, your time in that place has ended. You must return to this room soon. If you fail to do so, you may never find your way back—to me, to the palace, or to the life you know.

My chest tightened painfully.

You are the only one who can do this. Not because you are the strongest—but because you are invisible in ways even you do not fully understand. You are the weapon they will never see coming.

I closed my eyes briefly.

Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what you are searching for, nor who stands at the center of this plan. Some truths must be uncovered, not given. But I believe you already sense it. Trust that instinct. It has saved us before.

Yeah. It had.

Usually after getting me stabbed.

Do not try to save me first. If you do, you will fail. I have seen it. Stop the plan. Everything else follows.

That part hurt. A lot.

Know this, Colson: if you succeed, we will find each other again. I am counting on it.

The last line was written more softly. Almost tender.

I love you.

—Amaris

---

The room was silent.

I stared at the paper for a long moment.

Then I laughed.

Short. Sharp. A little unhinged.

“This is a joke, right?” I said to the empty study. “Because this is a phenomenal joke. Truly inspired.”

Silence answered.

I slammed my fist into the desk.

“AMARIS—f**k!”

My hand shook.

I dragged a breath through my teeth, then straightened.

“Fine,” I said, voice rough. “I’ll do it.”

Because if anyone could stop an apocalyptic, time-spanning, soul-erasing nightmare, it was me. I’d saved the world before. Sure, the wolves usually took credit—but details mattered.

I pocketed the watch, opened the door, and stepped through.

The palace vanished.

Reality folded.

And suddenly, I stood in an alleyway I knew far too well.

Trash-strewn pavement. Old flyers. Buildings that shouldn’t exist anymore.

Buildings that had been demolished years ago.

I stared.

“No f*****g way,” I whispered as realization hit.

She didn’t send me somewhere else.

She sent me back.

I exhaled slowly.

“…This is going to be a real bitch.”