Chapter 80 — The Truth Between Worlds

Chapter 80 — The Truth Between Worlds
The candles in Vaelen’s lab burned low, their flames small and nervous. The room smelled of parchment, herbs, and melted wax — the scent of too many nights spent searching for answers. Isla sat by the worktable, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Fenella perched near the fire, while Vaelen watched Isla with his usual mix of curiosity and quiet concern.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Finally, Isla exhaled, her voice trembling.
“I need to tell you both something… something I’ve kept hidden since the day I arrived here. But once I say it, there’s no taking it back.”

Fenella frowned. “You’re frightening me, my lady. What could possibly—”

“I’m not from this time,” Isla said softly. “I came here from the year 2025.”

The words fell between them like a stone dropped in still water. Neither of them moved. Only the fire popped, spitting sparks as if to fill the silence.

Vaelen blinked. “You mean… a different place?”

“No,” Isla whispered. “A different century.”

She took a steadying breath. “In my world, people travel the skies in great metal birds called airplanes. I was on one — on my way to Scotland to start my first year at a university called Edinburgh College. I was excited, nervous. There was an older woman sitting beside me on the flight. She made conversation, asked where I was from, and told me a story — about a Highland laird named Lachlan Strathclyde and his wife, Isla. She said their love story was one of the most tragic in all of Scotland — how Lachlan was proud and distant, and how Isla died accused of witchcraft and betrayal. She said his heart turned to stone after that.”

Fenella’s hand went to her mouth. “That’s… us?”

Isla nodded. “At the time, I didn’t think much of it. But once I arrived in Edinburgh, things started happening. Because I got there early, the campus was mostly empty. One morning, someone handed me a flyer for a book fair near the school. I decided to go, just to explore. I searched every stall for something interesting, but nothing stood out — until I saw it.”

Her voice dropped to a hush. “A small leather-bound book tied with string. No author, no title. When I touched it, I felt… something. A hum beneath my skin. Like it recognized me. When I pulled my hand away, the feeling vanished.”

“So you bought it,” Vaelen said quietly, already knowing the answer.

“I did,” Isla nodded. “I went back to my dorm and read it that night. It was about Lachlan and Isla — your world, your people, everything. But it wasn’t just a story. It felt alive. I could feel every emotion. Every thought. Every pain. It was as if the book was writing itself into me. And when I finished it, I realized something—” she swallowed, tears rising in her throat “—the book ended with Isla’s death. Beheaded for witchcraft and infidelity.”

Fenella looked pale. “That’s what they would’ve done to a woman accused of magic here…”

“The next morning,” Isla continued, “I tried to find the vendor again, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. Just smiled and said if I wanted answers, I should go to Edinburgh Castle. So I did. I wandered the side halls, past the portraits. I saw one of Lachlan — but not of Isla. And then I found a marble bust of a woman who looked exactly like me. The humming came back, stronger than ever. The air felt strange… heavy. And before I could step back, everything went black.”

She looked down at her hands. “When I woke up, I was in a pond. Gasping for air. And Lachlan was there, pulling me out.”

Vaelen stared at her in silence, his mind trying to reconcile logic and faith. “You’re telling us you crossed eight hundred years through a book?”

“I don’t know how it happened,” Isla said. “Only that it did. And somehow, I’ve taken the place of the woman from that story — Book Isla. But I still remember who I am, and where I came from. I still remember the year 2025 — the world I left behind.”

Fenella leaned forward, her voice shaking. “And the things you’ve done here — the granaries, the wine, the trading routes — those were from your world?”

“Yes,” Isla said. “Everything I’ve done to improve life here is something that exists in my time. I just tried to make things better while I could. Maybe I was foolish enough to think it would change how this story ends.”

Vaelen’s voice was quiet. “You mean the story where you die.”

Isla nodded, tears threatening to spill. “Book Isla’s last journal said she was accused at the stones — found chanting in a language no one understood. But she wasn’t casting a curse. She was saying a spell to return home. In my language — modern English. She wrote about how Lachlan had grown suspicious, how he never truly trusted her. The prophecy said she would betray him, and when he found her chanting, it sealed her fate.”

“And that’s how she died,” Fenella whispered.

“Yes,” Isla said. “And if the book is right, it’s how I die too. On November second, twelve-thirteen.”

Vaelen’s brow furrowed. “And yet… you’ve changed things. The book never spoke of bond marks or magic humming between you and the laird, did it?”

“No,” Isla said. “That’s new. Something that happened because I came here instead of her. The bond tied me to Lachlan, but when he took Mairi to bed, it broke. The pain was unbearable, and the scar remains. But the humming — the pull — it’s gone. I think I’ve changed the story somehow, and now we’re on a path none of us can predict.”

Fenella reached across the table and took Isla’s hand. “You’ve done nothing wrong, my lady. You’ve only ever tried to help. If this prophecy wants you dead, then we’ll find a way to stop it.”

Isla’s lips trembled into a faint smile. “If you can’t stop it, promise me this — that you’ll both leave when I’m gone. Book Isla’s death led to Lachlan’s downfall. He turned cruel, destroyed everything he built. I won’t let either of you be caught in that storm.”

“You speak as though it’s certain,” Vaelen said softly.

“Because I’ve read it,” Isla said. “And so far, everything in that book has come true.”

They fell silent, the air between them charged with unspoken fear. Then Fenella whispered, “We’ll help you find the chant. Maybe it will work this time. Maybe it’s your way home.”

Isla nodded. “I have to try. The journals mention a ring — an emerald ring that glowed when Book Isla said the chant. I think it’s still here somewhere. If I find it, maybe it’ll take me back.”

From beyond the door, a faint creak echoed in the corridor — too soft to be coincidence.
But inside, the three of them were too caught up in the gravity of what had just been spoken to notice.

Outside the door, Mairi pressed herself flat against the stone wall, her breath shallow. Her heart raced with the thrill of discovery.

“So that’s your secret,” she murmured, a slow smile curling across her lips. “Not witchcraft — something even better.”

She stepped quietly away, her mind already spinning.
If Isla truly wasn’t from this world… that truth could destroy her far more completely than any spell.

And Mairi intended to make sure it did.