We had a plan, but plans were only as good as the people executing them. And if we were going to rip the Council apart from the inside, we had to be flawless.I stood at the head of the war table, staring at the map spread out before us, the symbols and markings representing the Council’s reach across the continent. It was vast—too vast for a head-on fight. But it didn’t need to be a fight.It needed to be a collapse.Lilith leaned back against the stone wall, her arms crossed as she studied me. “You’re quiet, Guardian. That’s either a good thing or a very, very bad thing.”I exhaled, fingers tapping against the table. “We need names.”She smirked. “I thought you’d never ask.” She pulled a small, tattered book from her cloak, flipping it open. “The Council’s power doesn’t just come from its leaders—it comes from control. From alliances, from secrets, from people who are too scared to defy them. But every system has weak points.”Jameson leaned forward, grinning. “And you just happen t
The air in the tavern was thick. No one moved, no one spoke, as the weight of Voss’s words settled over us like a suffocating fog. My heart was pounding so loudly it felt like it was the only sound in the room, but I barely heard it over the roaring in my head.My mother. Alive.It wasn’t possible.It couldn’t be.She had died.She had died protecting me.I had spent my entire life believing that. I had built my identity around that loss, around the idea that her sacrifice had ensured my survival. And now Voss was sitting across from me, saying it was a lie.I swallowed hard, my voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “Say that again.”Voss shifted in his seat, his fingers gripping the edge of the table like he was preparing for impact. “Your mother is alive,” he repeated, his voice slow, deliberate. “She’s in the Archive. The Council has been keeping her there for years.”My stomach twisted violently. “That’s not possible.”Voss exhaled. “I wish it wasn’t.”Lilith, who had been watching
Three days. That was all the time we had.Seventy-two hours to prepare for a battle we had no guarantee of winning. Seventy-two hours to plan, to gather what little strength we had left, to walk into a trap knowing it was a trap and still come out alive.The weight of it pressed down on me like a vice, but I didn’t let myself break. I couldn’t. Not when there was still a small chance that my mother was out there. That she had been suffering, waiting, all this time.We didn’t have the luxury of failure.---Day One: The PlanI stood in the war room, surrounded by the people I trusted most. Bastian, arms crossed, face unreadable. Soraya, pacing, her magic flickering at her fingertips. Jameson, flipping a knife between his fingers, his usual smirk missing. Lilith, lounging near the window, was amused but dangerous. And Maxwell—always at my side, his golden eyes sharp with unspoken thoughts.The map of the Council’s strongholds lay spread across the table, marked with every piece of infor
The night was thick with tension. The kind of stillness that came before something shattered. We moved like shadows through the trees, the scent of damp earth and smoldering torches heavy in the air. Ahead of us, barely visible against the darkness, the waystation loomed—an old fortress repurposed for the Council’s transport convoys.Inside that fortress, my mother could be waiting. Or this could be a trap.I wasn’t sure which possibility terrified me more.Maxwell walked beside me, his steps deliberate, his energy thrumming. Ready. Waiting. Watching.“You keep doing that thing,” he murmured.I glanced at him. “What thing?”He arched a brow. “Where are you go quiet. Where you try to convince yourself you don’t feel fear.”I exhaled sharply. “I don’t have time to be afraid.”He gave me a look. “That’s a lie.”I didn’t answer.He caught my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. The others kept moving ahead, disappearing into the undergrowth, but he stayed close, his golden eyes burning.“Lena
The ground shook beneath us, the air thick with charged magic. Every instinct I had screamed run, but my body wouldn’t move. Not when his gaze was locked onto mine, not when the weight of his power pressed into my chest like an iron grip.The Council leader didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.“You should have stayed in the shadows, Lena.”His silver eyes glowed in the dim light, reflecting the fires still burning behind him. Around us, the remaining guards stilled, no longer scrambling, reacting in panic. They didn’t need to. Their leader had arrived.Maxwell stepped in front of me, his sword raised, his stance unshaken. “If you want her, you’ll have to go through me.”The Council leader tilted his head slightly, as if considering the offer. Then, faster than I could track, he moved.Max barely had time to block.Their swords clashed, the force of it sending a shockwave through the ground. I staggered back, my mother gasping as I pulled her with me. Bastian and Soraya rushed to
Then we kill her are words I repeated in my head long after I said them.The room was quiet, heavy with questions that had not been asked, fears that had gone unspoken. I could practically feel the weight of everyone’s gaze boring down on me—Maxwell’s barely-contained tension, Jameson’s wary curiosity, the cold calculation of Soraya. But above all, I could feel the thing inside me.Watching.Waiting.Maxwell was the first to ring in the silence. “Lena… do you know what that means?”I swallowed hard. “I know exactly what it stands for.”His jaw clenched. “Do you?” He moved in closer, his voice dropping to something gentler, something naked. “Because if she’s inside you, if this thing is tied to you now — how do you separate yourself from her? How do you poison what is tied up in your bones?”A chill ran down my spine.That’s because I didn’t have an answer to that.Soraya folded her arms, her face inscrutable. “We don’t really know what she wants yet.”Jameson scoffed. “We believe, and
The evening continued, weighed down by smoke and fatigue. None of us talked as we trudged more profoundly into the woods, deep breaths audible in the stillness. The fight was over, but the heaviness, the weight of it clung to me like a hand on my ribs, a fist.We had gotten away, but not because we were stronger. Not because we had won.We were free because he set us free.That idea was seared into my brain, repeating over and over again, only to contort into something that made me nauseous.Maxwell walked next to me, trudging slower than normal, his hand shoved against his injured side. He winced every couple of steps, but he would pretend he was fine when I looked.“Stop glaring,” he muttered.“I’m not glaring.”He huffed a laugh. “You have that look. The one in which you’re blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”I was blaming myself. How could I not?I had led them into this. I had thought we were ready. That we could fight. That we had a chance.Instead, I had only b
The atmosphere in the ruins was dense, cloaked in thoughts unsaid, expressions unread, and an unbreakable tension. We had decided, we had jumped, but the weight of it was sinking in like a rock pulling us under water.We weren’t simply in it for our lives anymore.We were declaring war.And war meant losses.Maxwell leaned against the broken window, arms crossed, gazing out at the dark horizon. His golden eyes had gone distant, his jaw set. He wasn’t speaking, but I could sense his thoughts. The way I could feel my heartbeat hammering on the other side of my ribs.I took a breath. “We need to start planning.”No one moved at first.Then Jameson scoffed. “You don’t waste time, huh?”I met his gaze. “We’re moving fast and not wasting time.”Lilith grinned and flicked a knife between her fingers as she reclined against the wall. “She’s right. The Council is regrouping already. We can’t just wait around and hope they’ll waver.”For the last few minutes, Bastian had been silent, and now he
The word LIAR still smoldered on the earth.Not from magic, but from intention. The burn was too crude, too human. There was no sigil or mystical flair to hide behind. No illusion. Just a raw accusation, left like a scar on sacred ground.Someone hadn’t just defaced the stone—they’d made a statement. And they’d made it here, at the heart of everything we were trying to build.I stood over it for a long time. Too long. I could feel the others watching me—Barin, Maxwell, Elara, even some of the apprentices who had come to help reinforce the foundation wards. They waited for a command, a reaction, anything to show them what I would do now.I didn’t give it to them.Not yet.Because inside me, there was a storm I couldn't afford to unleash—not until I knew where the crack had started.Maxwell stepped closer, voice low. “You think it’s someone inside?”I didn’t look at him. “If it were an outsider, the outer wards would have flared.”He swore under his breath. “Then we’ve been infiltrated.
“You called me reckless,” I continued. “You sent dreams and threats and doppelgängers to test my integrity. And I passed. Not by your standards—but by surviving, intact, through the kind of grief most of you would’ve buried. I faced my worst self and didn’t break.”A pause.“Can any of you say the same?”Silence.Then Elias spoke again, quieter. “And what do you propose, then? A Council of one?”“No,” I said. “A new covenant. Shared authority. A seat at the table for those you’ve excluded. A place where power isn’t feared—but shaped, taught, and trusted.”He didn’t move. “You’re asking us to rewrite centuries.”“I’m telling you,” I said, “they’re already rewriting themselves. You can participate—or you can be left behind.”The room held its breath.Then Elias smiled.It was small. But real.“You’ve grown,” he said. “Far more than we expected.”“I’m just getting started.”The chamber stayed silent for a moment after I spoke those words, but it wasn’t the silence of resistance—it was th
We didn’t wait for permission.By the next morning, the word was already spreading—not as a rumor, but as a declaration. The sanctuary would rise.No more retreating. No more hiding our power behind broken seals and inherited shame. We would build a space tethered to the ley lines, reinforced with intention, rooted in the truth of who we were becoming. And more than that, anyone with power, hunted or not, would be welcome. Not just Guardians. Not just wolves.Everyone.The response was immediate.Some sent their support—ancient names I barely recognized, offering blood, stone, and spell to help raise the walls. Others sent silence. The kind that carried the weight of a thousand threats.But it was the Council that answered first.I had barely finished marking the boundary runes when a crow landed on the stone in front of me. No scroll, no flare of magic. Just a voice—projected, cold and clear—from the bird’s beak."Lena Weber. The Council calls you to stand before the Elders within th
The circle dimmed. The night resumed its breath.Maxwell appeared at the edge of the trees, his eyes wild with concern. He didn’t speak. Just waited.“I’m okay,” I said, voice hoarse.He walked up to me slowly. “You don’t look okay.”“No,” I said, leaning into his chest. “But I know what I’m doing now.”He held me for a long moment. Then asked, “And what’s that?”I looked toward the stars, toward the seal humming faintly in my chest.“I’m going to stop surviving,” I said. “And start building.”Maxwell didn't speak right away. He studied me like he was seeing something different—something unfamiliar but necessary. The kind of change you don't celebrate with cheers, but with silence, because you know it’s real.“Building what?” he asked finally.I let the question hang in the air for a moment. “Something that doesn’t depend on fear. On reaction. On waiting for the next attack. Something rooted in intention. In choice. We keep surviving crisis after crisis, and we forget to imagine what
She stood there—older, wiser, with a weight in her gaze that I hadn’t yet earned but could already feel settling in my bones. She didn’t move like someone who wanted to be revered. She moved like someone who had been forged—bent, shaped, nearly broken—and survived because no one else knew how to carry what she carried.The silence between us stretched longer than it should have, but she didn’t rush me. That was something else I recognized in her—patience. Not passive, but deliberate. A discipline I hadn’t yet mastered.“I didn’t think I’d ever meet you,” I finally said.She gave a small smile. “You don’t. Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not a memory or a ghost. I’m not even truly real. Just an echo from one potential. One of millions.”“And yet,” I said, stepping toward her, “you’re here.”“Because the seal responded,” she said. “It recognized your convergence. The self that faced grief, the self that faced guilt, the self that faced truth. And now it offers a glimpse of what’s wa
The nights had been still lately—too still. Even after the encounter with my doppelgänger, even after the fire and the whispered threats in ash, the silence that followed felt wrong. It wasn’t peace. It was the pause before an avalanche, the long breath held before a scream.And then the seal pulsed.Not like before—not a flare of warning or fear. This was different. It was deep, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat. It throbbed through my chest, echoed in my bones, and I knew—whatever had awakened within me during the merge with my other self, it had reached the other side.Something had seen it.Something had responded.The pulse spread through the ley lines like a ripple, invisible to most, but I could feel its journey. It traveled through roots and rock, through the thin air above mountaintops, through the marrow of the oldest bones buried beneath our feet. And everywhere it went, it left doors ajar.By morning, the world had changed.The first signs came quietly—messages from nearby
I stood alone in the center of the circle we had carved days ago, the ley lines still raw from recent shifts. The ash from the eastern watchtower had long since scattered into the wind, but its message still pulsed behind my eyes. You will break. Or you will become.Tonight, I wasn’t going to run from that. Tonight, I would invite it in.I had told the others to stay back—something I knew Maxwell hated. He’d argued for hours. Not with words, but with silence, pacing, the set of his jaw, the way he stood near the doorway like he could stop a god with his bare hands if it came to that. But in the end, he let me go. Because he knew I had to.The fire crackled low. The ley stones hummed beneath my bare feet.And I called her.Not with words. With intent. With the shape of my memories, my regrets, the pieces of myself I had never forgiven.She came like a ripple. A subtle distortion in the air, like heat rising off pavement. Then she was there. Not a projection. Not a monster.Just… me.“I
We stood in the wake of that light, hearts pounding, silence clinging to the air like fog. The figure that had worn my face—my perfect mirror—was gone, but its presence lingered. Not just as memory. Not just as a threat. As residue. The ley lines around us had twisted, not fractured but reformed. Like the very pattern of reality had shifted to accommodate that presence.No one spoke for a while. Even Maxwell, always the first to break tense silences, had nothing. Maybe because there were no words big enough to contain what we’d seen.Finally, Nima said quietly, “It didn’t disappear. It just… stepped back.”I looked at her, not answering. Because she was right. That version of me hadn’t been defeated or banished. It had retreated. Like it had learned something. Like it was waiting.Barin exhaled hard, pacing. “That thing—— whatever it was—— it wasn’t just a projection. It carried intention. It believed what it said.”“And it felt,” Maxwell added, his voice low and rough. “That’s what s
I didn’t speak on the walk back.Maxwell didn’t press, though I knew the silence was hard for him. Every footstep felt like I was dragging pieces of myself behind me—things I thought I had laid to rest long ago. But Clara’s face stayed with me, not like a ghost, but like a mirror I couldn’t look away from.I should’ve saved her. And the seal knew it.When we reached the edge of the circle, Elara and Barin were already waiting. Nima stood between them, worry creased deep into her young face.“What happened?” Elara asked.“She saw someone she lost,” Maxwell answered for me, his tone clipped.“Someone she couldn’t save,” I added, lifting my eyes. “They’re not just testing my strength. They’re measuring my regrets. How deeply I carry them. How much they shape me.”Barin crossed his arms. “You think that’s the point of these tests?”“No,” I said. “I think that’s the data. They’re collecting impressions—who we are when we’re alone with our worst truths.”“And if they don’t like what they se