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
This was a matter of destroying them.I turned to the people standing before me—my people. Each of them had put everything on the line to stand with me and fight a fight that was no longer mine. And yet I could see it in their faces. The gravity of what we were about to do. The reality of it sinking in.Bastian blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “So you mean to tell me. Our objective is to infiltrate one of the most secure vaults ever built, steal their secrets, and then... what? Pray they don’t just kill us right away?”Jameson smiled, raising his arms behind his head. “I mean, that’s probably about right.”Soraya shot him a glare. “That’s not a plan. That’s suicide.”Maxwell moved next to me, his golden eyes fixed on the flames. “The Council’s greatest weapon isn’t their army. It’s the illusion of control. People don’t rebel against them, because they think it can’t be done. They think the Council is omnipotent, above all.”I nodded, my throat tight. “But if we can p
The torches flickered against the towering stone walls of my father’s estate, casting long, shifting shadows across the ground. The place looked the same as when I left—cold, imposing, untouched by time. But I wasn’t the same.I didn’t belong here anymore.Maxwell rode beside me in silence, his presence grounding me as we approached the front gates. Two guards stiffened at the sight of us, their hands twitching toward their weapons. But when their gazes landed on me, something in their postures shifted.Recognition. Uncertainty. Fear.One of them cleared his throat. “Miss Weber.”I reined in my horse, leveling him with a steady gaze. “Open the gates.”The other guard hesitated. “Your father—”“Will want to see me.”There was no room for argument in my voice.They exchanged a look before one of them finally turned and signaled the sentries above. The great iron gates creaked open, revealing the long stone pathway that led to the grand estate at the heart of the compound.Maxwell leaned
The world around me blurred. The room, the firelight dancing in the stone walls, the heavy weight of my father’s words like a stifling fog spreading over me — none of it felt real anymore.She’s not your mother anymore.They broke her.They made her a weapon.I heard the words, but couldn’t process them. I didn’t want to.She was alive. I had seen her. I had touched her. Her voice had broken when she said my name, and her body had quaked when I held her. That wasn’t a mindless puppet’s response. That was real. That was her.And yet…My father had never been a liar, A survivor, a man who always kept an eye on the bigger picture, but not a liar.So , which truth was I meant to believe?“No, you’re wrong,” I whispered, my throat raw.My father didn’t react. He just stood there, shoulders squared, expression grim, as if he’d been waiting for me to say that.“Lena — ” Maxwell began, and I shook my head.“No.” I looked at my father, my hands balling into fists. “You don’t know her the way I
It was like stepping into water without getting wet—immersive, suffocating, impossible to define. The seal wasn't a place. It was a memory of a place. The edges of the space shimmered like heat mirages, reality curling and straightening again, refusing to settle.I stood on a stone bridge suspended over nothing. Beneath me was not darkness, but an absence of everything—sound, light, memory. Even the air held no scent, no temperature. It was pure sensation, stripped of identity. The only thing anchoring me was the key, still warm in my palm. And ahead, a figure waited at the other end of the bridge.She looked like me. Again.But not fractured. Not weaponized. This one was calm.Empty.She wore white. Hair down, eyes silver, not gold, not burning, not furious. This was the version of me that let go. The one who surrendered. The one who had said “yes” to silence because she was too tired to scream again.And as I stepped forward, she spoke first.“You’re late.”I paused. “What are you?”
The wind shifted first.It came through the treetops like a whisper laced in warning, curling between bodies and brushing through cloaks, making the gathered faction of rogue leaders, surviving witches, wolves, and ex-Guardians shiver as one. The key on the pedestal pulsed again—brighter, sharper—then dimmed, like a breath held in anticipation.I turned slowly, gaze sweeping across the people standing with me. Or near me. I still wasn’t sure which.“This is where I need your trust,” I said quietly, my voice steady despite the sudden tension in the air. “What we’re about to do won’t look like diplomacy. It won’t feel like an order. But I need you to hold the line until I come back.”“Come back from where?” Barin Aul stepped forward, brow furrowed. “You’re talking like we’re at the edge of war.”“We are,” I said. “But not with each other.”Elara crossed her arms. “And yet you’re asking us to follow you without knowing what door you’re about to open.”“No,” I replied. “I’m not asking you
It didn’t happen all at once. Some nodded stiffly. Some remained still, eyes narrowed, as if weighing every breath I took. But the energy shifted, undeniable and tense. Their hesitation wasn’t surrender—it was calculation. They were still watching me like I might detonate. But at least now, they were listening.Elara, ever the strategist, stepped back into the circle. Her face remained unreadable, the sharp angles of her features as inscrutable as ever. But there was something else there, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as she studied me with an intensity that was hard to ignore."Then talk," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a sharp blade. "If we’re here, and you’ve claimed the right to lead—or at least decide—what’s next?"I glanced at Maxwell, then at the key still humming faintly atop the beacon’s pedestal. “The last seal is unraveling. Slowly. But I can feel it now. It’s not going to break like the others. It’s waiting for the right moment, or the wrong one.
By the time the sun rose again, the air had changed.The beacon still burned through the morning mist, a slow, steady column of gold against a bruised sky. There was no crackling thunder, no apocalyptic wind—just a quiet tension that blanketed the valley, like the earth itself had noticed something ancient was waking up. I stood at the edge of the platform, watching the treeline, heartbeat steady, nerves anything but.“They’ll come,” Maxwell said behind me, arms folded, eyes scanning the horizon. “Some out of loyalty. Others out of fear. Some just to see if the stories are true.”“What stories?” I asked.“That you survived. That you’re walking around with the last key. That you’re not David’s widow or the Council’s orphan anymore.”I let the silence answer for me. The truth was, I didn’t know who I was to them. Not yet.The first to arrive was Elara Vale.She came alone, no guards, no ceremony. Just her and that calculating gaze that had made her infamous even before the Council fract
“You think they’ll follow you?”“They won’t follow me. They’ll follow the truth.” I held up the key. “And I intend to show it to them.”Maxwell exhaled, then looked out over the distant ridge where the forest met the last trace of old civilization. “And if they try to stop you?”I looked him dead in the eye.“Then we remind them I’m not asking permission.”The words echoed louder than I meant them to, carrying across the crumbling walls of the Sanctum, bouncing off stone like a prophecy etched in defiance. For the first time in days—maybe weeks—I felt aligned with something deeper than survival. Something almost close to purpose.Maxwell didn’t respond right away. He just studied me, as if trying to figure out whether I was standing taller because of the key I held or because of the decision I’d finally made. Then he gave a small, tight nod—the kind that didn’t need explanation.We started walking.The path down from the ruins wasn’t the same one we’d taken up. I don’t know if the lan
I held the key in both hands, its weight more emotional than physical. Though it looked like it was made of woven light, it felt dense, anchored by every choice I had made, every fear I’d conquered, every version of me I’d resisted becoming. It pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, as if it were syncing itself to me, not the other way around.Maxwell stood across from me, arms crossed, jaw set. He hadn’t spoken since I lifted it."You’re waiting for me to say something," I said softly.His gaze didn’t move from the key. “I’m waiting for you to feel something. The kind of certainty you usually hide behind sarcasm or strategy. What do you feel, Lena?”I let the silence linger.“I feel... scared,” I admitted. “Not of the key. Not even what it opens. I’m scared of what it will ask of me once it does. Of what I’ll have to become to use it.”He nodded slowly. “Good. That means you’re still you.”“Still?” I gave a tired smile. “Do you think I’m changing?”He met my eyes now, gently. “I think y
The staircase swallowed sound. Each step down stripped the world of something familiar—first the light, then the warmth, then the sense of time. Maxwell moved close behind me, but even his breathing sounded distant, muffled by the oppressive weight of the descent.The deeper we went, the more I could feel it pressing inward. Like the walls weren’t made of stone at all, but of memory. Of something waiting.I touched the glyphs that flickered faintly along the tunnel’s edge, symbols glowing for only a heartbeat before vanishing. This wasn’t language. It was a warning. Or maybe confession.Maxwell’s voice was barely audible behind me. “Lena… if this place changes you…”I stopped and turned slightly, enough to catch his shadow. “You’ll remind me.”“I’ll drag you out.”I wanted to believe that was possible. I wanted to believe anything could drag me out if I stepped too far.After what felt like hours, the staircase ended in a wide, circular chamber. The floor was smooth, unlike the rest o
By first light, we were already moving. The path to the ruins cut through dense, brittle woods. Nature had reclaimed much of the road, ivy curling up through cracked stone, tree roots splitting once-paved ground. But I remembered the way, at least what remained of it. I remembered walking it as a child, held by my father's hand, back when the Sanctum was still alive before the seals had started to hum. Before they began to break.Now, only one seal remained.And it was buried somewhere beneath the rubble we were heading toward.Maxwell kept pace beside me, silent but alert. He hadn’t said much since we left camp. Neither had I. There wasn’t much left to say that hadn’t already been whispered in firelight the night before. We both knew what this place meant, not just to us, but to the shape of everything still to come.When the Sanctum came into view, I felt the breath leave my lungs.It was worse than I remembered.The outer arch had collapsed. The great doors—once carved with runes t
The path out of the chapel felt longer than the one going in. With each step, the world outside seemed more fragile, like reality itself was bruised, discolored by something unseen. Maxwell walked just behind me, quiet but watchful. He didn’t need to speak; his presence was enough—solid, grounding. Still, I felt the echo of the woman with my face in every shadow we passed.“Do you think she’s still watching?” I asked as we reached the treeline.Maxwell didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”I glanced back toward the chapel, half-expecting to see her silhouette in the stained-glass remnants, but the ruins stood empty. Still, the space didn’t feel abandoned. It felt paused.“You believe she’s waiting for me to break,” I said.“I think she needs you to,” he replied. “But I also think she underestimated you.”I smiled faintly. “She knows me better than anyone.”“Not better than me,” he said.That hit harder than I expected. I wanted to believe him. I almost did. But the version of me I had seen—fierce,