November 8 th 2025
'Who knows to tell me what wards are?" Chris asked, standing at the front of the class, arms crossed in a way that let them know they were in for a long one today. To her right Matt let out a suffering groan, his head rolling backwards. "C'mon, guys, this is an easy one," Chris prompted them.
He was alone today with Wyatt nowhere in sight. Which could mean one of two things; either the oldest Halliwell witch was tired of the impromptu yelling sessions always starting without a fail after the first twenty minutes of every class or he was on a mission. Judging by Chris' tensed stance, Melinda would bet on the second; Chris hated it when Wyatt went on missions without him.
Well, serves him right, she thought angrily, pressing her ballpoint harder against the paper of her notebook.
"Cassandra? Any ideas?"
"You remember the only reason I'm sitting through this is because I was ordered to be here, right?" Cassandra asked, lifting an eyebrow. All the teenagers in the classroom turned as if one to stare at her, because unlike Chris they had no idea Cassandra had been forced to be in class.
"I'm well aware; I still expect you to engage, though."
"You are a year younger than me," Cassandra's voice was almost incredulous, making Chris square his shoulders and take a step towards her.
"What is a "ward", Cass?" he pressed, relentless. Melinda looked up to see Cassandra bristling, her eyes pinning hard into his.
"An advanced level spell, usually in a dead language, combined with sigils and blood sacrifice," Cassandra said her tone almost hostile, never breaking the eye contact. Chris arched an eyebrow, his gaze turning sarcastic.
"Oh, blood sacrifice? Like killing a virgin under the full moon?" he asked, his head tilted on the side. Melinda could practically hear Cassandra clicking her tongue.
"No, it's a blood offering; the person casting the ward has to offer some of their own blood and activate it with their own magic."
"And, Matt," Chris said turning to look at the brunnette witch sitting next to Melinda, "Give me five ward sigils, off the top of your head."
Matthew's face screwed up in a mixture of annoyance and despair; "Why?"
"Because I asked you to," Chris said shrugging. Matthew sat straighter in his chair, running a hand through his dark brown hair.
"One of these days I'm going to tell mom you are only doing these classes so you can torture us."
"Nobody likes a snitch, Matt," Melinda said cheekily and Matthew rounded at her, his mouth forming a perfect circle.
"Et tu Brute?"
"Matthew, the sigils," Chris brought him back. Matthew sighed, long and hard and full of pain.
"Okay, ugh... the triqueta, the pentagram, the ankh the triple moon and..." his eyebrows pulled together, "And the spiral?"
A loud siren that blasted into the room drowned away whatever words of approval Chris was about to give. Through the windows looking at the hallway they could see purple lights flashing in warning as several high in command members of the Resistance rushed to the head office. Melinda saw the youngest of the teenagers in the classroom shrink in their seats, as Ruth reached for her twin's hand; Matthew gave her a tight squeeze.
"C-Chr-ris?" her voice trembled as she looked up at him. Chris' face had slipped into his usual authority figure expression, which he seemed to reserve for specifically this type of situation. Standing up, Melinda walked around her desk and closer to him. She reached out to touch his arm, her fingers snatching at the material of his shirt.
"It's all going to be fine," Chris said, finally focusing his gaze on her. Melinda blinked her eyes, fast and harsh, to shoo her tears away, her teeth boring on her lower lip. "Hey," Chris turned his body towards her, effectively blocking the rest of the class and everything happening out her line of view, "I promise you; everything is going to be fine," he said, pulling her into a reassuring hug.
And Melinda had believed him; because Chris never lied to her.
The mattress was stiff, the bed too small for her to spread on it properly and there was nothing on the window to prevent the morning sun from slipping inside the tiny backroom of the club. Still, Melinda had had worse nights. She sat up, the hinges under the mattress protesting at the movement, and stretched. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing through the knots and silently longed for a shower.
Apart from the bed there wasn't much else inside the room; a small dresser on the far left corner with an equally small and depressing face mirror hanging over it. There was also a desk, overflowing with papers, right by the door. Melinda swung her legs off the bed, slipping her feet inside her shoes and made her way to the dresser. She felt guilty as she searched though the first drawer, but she'd been wearing the same sweatshirt for over a day and she desperately needed to change; Chris would understand. Taking off her top she quickly pulled on a soft, deep blue hoodie, the sleeves of which reached well past her fingers.
She fixed the bedspread, resting her clothes near the foot of the bed. A hum came past her lips as she looked around, wondering what she was supposed to do until Chris decided to show up. Her eyes fell on the clock resting on the desk and she realized she'd slept well through the noon; not surprising considering everything she'd been through.
With her curiosity getting the best out of her, Melinda went over to the desk. She gingerly ran her fingers over the papers, her eyes scanning for something familiar. Of course, with Chris' brain always a step ahead of everyone else's all his notes were in code. Some papers were covered in celestial symbols, she could recognize spells in Sanskrit on a few of them and then others were magicked to appear blank.
There was a useful timeline on one of the papers near the bottom, which helped her figure out she was currently in 2004, if the circle around the number and the arrows pointing backwards at it was any indication. The timeline ended on October 2025; Melinda could remember waking up in December 2025 yesterday. At the end of the page a spell on how to break a familial bond was scribbled in Chris' messy hand writing.
Melinda felt her head pounding. Her fingers softly massaged her crown, as she walked back to the bed. She unceremoniously plopped on to it, tucking her legs underneath her body. She felt sick. She had read about the physical side-effects of time travel, but never in a million years had she expected to actually go through them. With a soft groan she lied down, hugging the pillow close to her and allowing the darkness to claim her once more.
The next time Melinda woke up she was panting. There was barely any light getting in through the window, which could only mean it was still night-time. Her heartbeat and the blood rushing in her ears was all she could hear. Her whole body had gone rigid and she frantically looked around, trying to focus on something. Palms and face clammy, Melinda felt her fear spiking as she registered her own labored gasps of air.
It's fine, you are fine, the little voice whispered in her mind. But her breaths were still coming out short and hard and Melinda felt the tears burn the back of her eyes. You need to calm yourself down, it was just a bad dream.
Melinda swallowed around the bile rising in her throat, her hands balling into fists. She tried to draw in a deep breath and hold it, managing only to end up in a coughing fit. With a jerk she kicked off the covers jumping to her feet. Her vision was starting to blur, the lack of oxygen slowly getting to her. There were no windows inside the room and in the darkness, Melinda couldn't make out the door; only four walls, looming over her. Closing in on her. Crashing her.
Melinda screamed.
It wasn't a loud or bloodcurdling scream. It barely reached her ears, low and wounded, reminding her of a dying animal. It helped, with her hyperventilation, forcing all the pent up tension out of her body. Her knees started trembling and then they buckled and she landed on the dark floor. The girl draw her legs close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her crown on top of them. She only realized she had started crying when she felt the wetness seeping through the material of her jeans.
For the next several minutes she could feel her whole body shaking, as it worked through the shock of the anxiety attack. Melinda curled tighter into herself, pretending she was back at the bunker, hiding under her covers, waiting for her brothers to return from a mission.
There is no time to play-pretend, honey.
No, there wasn't. There was no more time to waste. She'd wasted a whole day waiting for Chris to show up, but he hadn't and Melinda couldn't wait any longer. She'd already spent way too much time in this timeline, she had to get back home. Not giving much time to herself for second thoughts, Melinda let a shaky breath and orbed out.
When she reappeared at the attic of the Manor, Melinda allowed herself a minute of stillness. In the last forty-eight hours she'd found herself twice inside her family home. In her reality she hadn't stepped foot in that place for almost seven years. The emotional whiplash was enough to make her stomach twist. So, Melinda gave herself a minute. And then she shook it off.
The book of Shadows was situated at its rightful place in the middle of the room. She felt her magic hum inside her veins as she pressed her fingertips over the cover. The triquetra flashed orange and the hardcover snapped open, pages flying underneath her fingers on their own volition. Melinda's eyes widened; she had only used the book once before and both Chris and Wyatt had been present at the time, she didn't know it could do something like that. After a second or so, it stopped.
To go back in time, the title above the spell read and Melinda frowned at it. She didn't want to go back in time, she wanted to go... sideways? She scrunched her face trying to remember anything she knew about portals and how they worked. Which, to be honest wasn't all that much. Portals were considered to be the enemie's weapon of choice, so the Resistance usually stayed away from them, unless they absolutely had to use one.
Finding a piece of chalk on the end table next to the couch Melinda drew a triquetra on one of the walls. She dusted her hands off, wiping her palms on her jeans, for a good measure and regarded her handwork.
"Now, I only need the power of three," she muttered, biting the inside of her cheek. She tilted her head on the side, "Maybe I could wake them up and ask?"
One of the many things Melinda had learnt in her seventeen years of life was how to compartmentalize. Her mother, while she was still alive, had stressed a number of times how important it would be as a skill later in life. After she was gone Melinda's brothers would never stop reminding her of its importance. Which, considering the situation she currently found herself in, was more than helpful; because, now, she could totally separate the three witches sleeping in their bedrooms from her own family.
Totally.
No question about it.
They were different people.
Melinda nodded her head, her teeth biting on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
"Okay, okay... how can I go around using the power of three?"
The sound of orbing caught her off guard and Melinda let out a soft yelp, jumping in place. One of her hands flew to her heart as she looked around in search of the Whitelighter who'd walked in on her. But there was no one there. Melinda spun around, her eyes scanning the attic. And then she heard a gurgle.
Compartmentalize, Mel!
"Wyatt?" she whispered, her eyes getting wide and round. The little boy was sitting on the carpet next to the tripod housing the book. His blond locks flew all over the place and his eyes looked shinny when they pinned in hers. Wyatt gurgled, again, extending his chubby arms towards her.
Melinda approached him carefully not wanting to scare him of. She knelt in front of him and Wyatt started swinging back and forth, like he was trying to move forward. Melinda couldn't stop the smile that took over her face. Hesitantly she reached out, ready to withdraw at the first sign of discomfort, only to be greeted by Wyatt's enthusiasm.
Hi! Who are you? Oh my god, I know you! I know you! I love you! Hey, hi! How are you? Can you hear me? Can you? How do we know each other? This is the first time I'm seeing you, but I love you! And I know you! But I don't know you! Hi!
Melinda was floored, both figuratively and literally. The force behind his thoughts was strong enough to make her loose her balance. She landed, clumsily, albeit soundlessly on her butt. Wyatt giggled and she gaped at him, pulling slightly out of his mind. His thoughts still filtered through, not in intelligible words, but more like colors and feelings and energy. Melinda had never felt anything similar before; it was like his magic spoke to hers, like his soul recognized hers and it was enough to bring tears in her eyes.
"Hey, big brother," she whispered, cupping his cheek with her palm. Wyatt leaned into her touch and Melinda felt warmth radiating off of him in waves and seep through her body. A chocked sob escaped her throat and she had to physically restrain herself from wrapping the baby in her arms. She did not want to overwhelm him, even if by the looks of things, she was the one getting overwhelmed.
"D-do you th-think you cou-could help me?" she asked, hating how her voice trembled around the words. Wyatt simply looked at her, his blue eyes, big and confused. Melinda glanced towards the triquetra; "I-I-I n-n-need-" she stopped, pressing her lips in a thin line.
Just think of the letters before you speak them out , the voice reminded her, not unkindly.
"I need to get back home," she said, pronouncing each word slowly and in a low voice. Wyatt blinked as if he understood her and Melinda let out some of the excessive air in her lungs. "I will need your help with a magic spell; you think you can do that?" she asked. Wyatt's face split into a blinding smile and Melinda hoped it was an answer to her question.
She orbed the book in front of them, her fingers running over the dated pages. Wyatt let a loud exclamation when he saw it, his little hands smacking against it, excitedly. "Love the enthusiasm," Melinda said, affectionately mussing his hair.
"Okay, let's try this," Melinda said, reaching with her power towards Wyatt. She swayed a little, as his thoughts briefly but with intensity took center stage inside her head,
"Hear these words, hear the rhyme,
Heed the hope within my mind,"
Melinda could feel the words reverberate in Wyatt's mind, his magic building even if he had no idea what he was doing. She smiled at the boy and Wyatt beamed back at her. The triquetra on the wall flashed a couple of times and Melinda went over the last two verses, with some minor changes,
"Send me over to where I'll find,
What I wish across the space and time,"
The triquetra flashed again, a vibrant blue color, achingly similar to Wyatt's eyes. Melinda snorted in disbelief. She'd done it! She'd actually managed to open a portal! And without the power of three, just herself and a one-and-a-half-year-old baby! Melinda looked at Wyatt, arching an eyebrow.
"Just how powerful are you, dude?" Wyatt giggled like she'd said something exceptionally funny. "Right... I'll keep that in mind, when I see you next," she said and with a last pat on his head, she stood up.
She walked up to the portal, peering at it curiously. This was probably the first time seeing one this up-close, considering the night she'd travelled to the past she'd just been sucked by one. She never got the chance to actually observe it. The light sparkling around it reminded her of a Whitelighter's orbing particles and Melinda shivered; it was involuntary, but still there. She leaned a bit closer, her left hand venturing towards the portal -
"What are you doing?"
Chris' voice made her jump.
"You scared me," she said accusingly. Wyatt chose that moment to alert Chris to his presence, by throwing his arms around the older witch's legs.
"Of course, you had a hand in this," Chris muttered, his head falling forward. If she weren't as emotionally and physical exhausted as she was, Melinda would've found the moment cute. "You think this is a good idea?" he questioned, refocusing his attention on her. Arms crossed, his eyes flickered between Melinda and the portal. She bit the inside of her cheek, deciding not to answer. "You jump in there; you have no idea where you'll end up."
"What else am I supposed to do?" she shot back, her defenses rising.
"I don't know, maybe wait for me, like we agreed?"
"I waited!" she said, stopping herself from yelling by trying very hard. "And it's not like you care," she added. Chris shifted in his spot.
"This is not a good idea," he said. "I can help you find a safer way."
"Why do you-"
But Melinda froze before she finished her sentence. The unmistakable jingle of the Elders' summoning echoed all around her; Melinda felt like the air was sucked right out of the room. It took a second for her heart to start hammering inside her ribcage and she felt faint. No, this could not be happening, no, no, no...
Compartmentalize, Melinda!
No, no, no...