When The Veil Trembles

Continued from here: The Witch, The Professor, and the Immortal (Chapter 2)

Just a few days later, Alexander found himself back at the Wilsons' house. Thomas had contacted him that morning and asked whether he could come by for tea, saying they had some news to share. Alexander would have loved to come over immediately, but he forced himself to wait.

There was news.

He could hardly believe it. Could it really be that all his prayers—or perhaps messages to the universe, since he had never been a particularly religious man—had finally been answered? Was he at last about to discover the true nature of the spell? After more than three centuries, would he finally learn whether there was more to it? Would he understand why he had always felt... incomplete? Why both his mind and his body seemed to be searching for something—even though neither of them knew what that something was?

For days, those questions had consumed his thoughts. Normally, he loved spending time in London. He would wander through his favourite shops, buy a new suit or whatever else caught his eye, or simply stroll through St James's Park or Kensington Gardens. Yet lately, none of it had managed to distract him. His mind had been fixed on one thing alone, leaving him restless and unable to find any real peace.

Part of that unease undoubtedly stemmed from the revelation that magic was still being practised. He had never questioned its existence—after all, he was living proof that it was real. But neither had Ann-Sophie's words left him. The knowledge that he was supposedly being watched by the Ministry of Magic lingered at the back of his mind like an unwelcome shadow.

It was a great deal to take in, and he still struggled to make sense of everything he had learned. Even so, he hoped the Wilsons would be able to provide some answers. Sleep had become elusive. His nights were short and restless, his mind refusing to settle. And whenever exhaustion finally claimed him, his dreams were haunted by visions that were all too often far from pleasant.

Now he sat at the dining table in the Wilsons' home while Woodley quietly served tea. Déborah had joined them as well. Alexander let his gaze wander around the table before offering a faint, nervous smile.

"I can't even begin to describe how nervous I am," he admitted. "But seeing as no one's come to take me into custody, I'm hoping it's good news. At the very least, nothing that's going to land me in a Ministry cell."