Chapter 17 — The Teddy Bear Charm
The aurora had softened to a hush when we reached the open platform above the Gate.
Wind whistled through the fractured arches, carrying the scent of ozone and old wishes. The sky bent around us…violet ribbons folding into green, then gold…the heavens themselves were taking notes.
Chuck set the sleigh down beside the control dais, climbed out, and held the bear up to the light. The duct-taped patch over its heart pulsed faintly…slower than before, but steadier,…a lantern learning to burn again.
I adjusted my spectacles and scribbled furiously. “Subject displays stable glow pattern. Suggests transition from grief-bound talisman to sympathy-driven guide.”
“Which means?” Dax asked, leaning on a runner.
“It’s picking sides,” I said.
The bear twitched.
Chuck frowned. “Excuse me?”
Then it floated.
Not fast, not dramatic…it just lifted, gentle as breath, until it hovered a few feet above the stone. Golden light spilled down its seams like dawn through cracked blinds.
“Uh, Chuck,” Dax said carefully. “Your plushie’s got opinions.”
The bear rotated in mid-air, facing the Gate’s central seal—the one laced with Gwen’s rune.
Chuck took a step closer. “You’re pointing to the failsafe, aren’t you?”
The bear pulsed once.
Affirmation.
Nick folded his arms, the faint light catching in his beard. “You built that charm with her, didn’t you?”
Chuck nodded. “It was supposed to comfort children who’d lost someone. Absorb grief, return warmth.”
“Then why’d you keep it?” Nick asked.
“Because it stopped working after she left.”
The bear’s glow dimmed, then brightened again.
“See?” I said, heart racing. “It reacts to honesty.”
The bear drifted higher, scattering golden light across the cracked runes of the floor. Wherever the light touched, the runes pulsed…red fading to amber, like wounds healing in reverse.
“It’s rewriting the energy structure,” I whispered. “She built the truth into the code!”
Chuck stepped closer, his voice trembling. “Show me, Gwen. Please.”
The bear spun once, scattering motes of light that formed shifting lines above the platform. Intersecting runes shaped themselves into a glowing circle, then a pattern—an image of a door.
“The failsafe,” Nick murmured.
The construct rotated, projecting a narrow beam across the far wall. The stone rippled, forming a seam where none had existed…a doorway of light and shadow, beating faintly like a second heart.
Chuck’s voice went quiet. “She left us a way in.”
I scribbled until my quill squeaked. “Correction: she left you a way in. It’s keyed to emotional frequency. I wouldn’t survive two steps in that chamber before evaporating from moral deficiency.”
Dax snorted. “So we’re just letting him walk through some glowing grief alone?”
Nick shook his head. “Not alone. I’m going with him.”
Chuck turned. “After everything I’ve done to you?”
“Because of everything,” Nick said. “She built this for both of us.”
The bear floated down into Chuck’s palms, warm as forgiveness, bright as dawn.
He looked at Dax and me. “If this thing goes sideways—”
“I’ll write a flattering obituary,” I said.
“—and I’ll make sure he means it,” Dax added.
Chuck smirked. “Good enough.”
He turned toward the radiant door. The bear’s heart flared gold, its light spilling across both of them.
Nick exhaled slowly. “You realize this could undo everything we’ve built.”
“Then maybe,” Chuck said, “it’ll finally fix what we broke.”
They stepped forward together.
The light expanded, swallowing their silhouettes until only the shimmer of Gwen’s rune remained, etched across the doorway like a benediction. The bear’s glow merged with it, a pulse of gold sinking into the seam.
The Gate above us hummed in answer, its arches vibrating with new resonance. Frost melted in spiderweb patterns, dripping like tears that had finally found their way out.
Dax and I shielded our eyes as the brilliance rose to a crescendo. The platform trembled beneath us, the air alive with the sound of bells far away…gentle, endless, forgiving.
When the light folded inward, they were gone.
Silence fell, pure and electric.
Dax broke it first. “So… when do we panic?”
I checked my watch, though it hadn’t worked in four decades. “I’d give them five minutes.”
He nodded. “Good. I’ll light a cigar.”
I sighed, writing even as my hand shook. Entry: The wizard and the saint have entered the light. Destination unknown. Mission parameters: reconciliation or spontaneous combustion. My vote remains undecided.
Above us, the aurora rippled again, brighter than before, painting the world in colors too kind to name.
And somewhere inside that impossible glow, I swore I heard laughter…hers, his, maybe both…echoing through the Gate’s awakening heart.
