[The gentle swirl of the wine in her glass might as well speak volumes. Her trailing silence only serves as space for Stephen to complete the sentence in his mind. When she lost her magic.

There is a part of him that never really thought her magic dissipating was related to something happening in her world, but now, given that context, it is all too easy to tie those connective strings together. A few months ago, she had fallen into a deep dream state just like him. A few months ago, and she had woken up, finding herself missing her magic. He cannot imagine what that must have been like, what it would have felt like for him.

(Like waking up, suddenly missing a limb. Or like waking up, suddenly finding one’s hands gone useless, every bone in them broken—)

His stomach sinks a little. His mouth twists into a deeper frown.]

They’re not just dreams, then. It’s as if time is trying to catch up to us, winding its way back into ourselves here — like it’s trying to fix the timeline we were never a part of because we’re stuck in Abraxas.

[That’s just a theory, spun off the top of his head. But that’s what it feels like.]

…You should have told me sooner, Yennefer.