A structure. Ancient. Massive. Built from black stone that seems to drink the light.
The Gate.
It’s already glowing.
Figures move around it — robed, hooded, their magic pulsing in rhythm with the structure’s thrum. And at the center, standing before the Gate like he’s been waiting for us all along—
A hooded figure.
Dark robes that seem to drink the light. The hood pulled low, obscuring everything but the faint gleam of pale fingers clasped in front of him. The air warps around him — bends wrong, like reality itself is trying to lean away.
I can’t see his face. Can’t make out anything beneath that hood.
But I feel him.
Ancient. Patient.Wrong.
The snow avoids him. The wind dies where he stands. Even the sickly green light pulsing from the Gate seems to curve around him like it’s afraid to touch.
“Ah.” His voice carries across the plateau like it’s being spoken directly into my skull. Calm. Almost warm. “The Key arrives at last.”
His hood shifts — just slightly — as his attention moves to Kaia.
“Hello girl, our meeting is long overdue.”
Chapter 37
Kaia
The world snaps back into focus like a rubber band to the face.
Cold. Wind. Snow biting through clothes that are nowhere near warm enough for wherever the hell we are now.
My lungs seize. The altitude is wrong — too high, too thin, the air scraping my throat like broken glass.
And in front of me—
Him.
The hooded figure. The one who makes reality bend away like it’s afraid to touch him.
“Hello girl,” he says. “Our meeting is long overdue.”
My shadows explode outward before I can think.
Bob surges in front of me, edges razor-sharp, positioning himself like a shield made of pure fury. Mouse leaps from my shoulder to my feet, growing larger, darker, his growl vibrating through my bones. Patricia’s notebook blazes to life. Walter pulses overhead like a warning flare.
And the bonds—
Gods, thebonds.
Six voices screaming through my chest all at once. Finn’s chaos crackling like static. Torric’s heat blazing at my back. Aspen’s frost spreading across the ground beneath my feet. Malrik’s shadows sharpening around him like blades. Darian’s light — pure, golden,new— burning so bright it hurts to look at.
And Kieran.
Kieran is a wall of ancient stillness behind me, his presence pressing against the bond like a hand bracing for impact.
None of them speak.
