The fourth door makes my breath catch. The frame is covered in symbols that seem to shift when I'm not looking directly—flowing script that might be prophecy or poetry. Theo's door, for someone who sees patterns in everything.
At the far end, a door that makes my chest tight with recognition. Warm wood carved with intricate designs that suggest growing things, but there's something else too—symbols that speak of emptiness waiting to be filled. Wes's door.
And then there are two more.
One made of silver-veined black stone, elegant and somehow predatory. The other carved from pale wood that seems to shimmer with its own inner light. I don't understand why they're here, but something in my stomach flutters when I look at them.
Something shifts in my chest when the mist touches that shimmering pale door. Not fear, exactly. More like... exposure. Like being seen in a way I'm not ready for. I try not to think about it.
"Well," Jace says behind me, "this is either really cool or really weird."
I turn to find him staring at his door with something between appreciation and concern. "So, uh, anyone want to guess why mine looks like it belongs in a high-security training facility?"
Wes appears beside him, looking at his own door with quiet intensity. "Hey, if this door is based on what I need, does that mean it has snacks and an industrial-strength lock?"
"Probably a whole kitchen," Rhett says, emerging from the bedroom. "And soundproofing."
The easy banter should make me laugh. Instead, heat crawls up my neck as I realize what this means. The Ether didn't just create space for me—it created space for all of them. Because it somehow knows what I want before I do.
"I didn't mean for..." I start, then stop. Because how do you explain that your magic apparently has opinions about everyone you care about?
"What if we add someone new?" Jace asks, grinning. "Does it just pop up another door?"
"The Ether will adjust," a voice says quietly from behind us. "That's what it does."
We all turn. Stellan stands at the entrance to the chamber, gray eyes taking in the doors with something unreadable in his expression. His gaze lingers on the pale shimmering door—the one that made my chest flutter—and something passes across his face too quickly to catch.
"It responds to connection," he continues, voice careful. "To... need."
The words hang heavy in the charged air, and I feel that flutter again when his eyes meet mine for just a moment before looking away.
Thane appears beside him, silver gaze cataloging the doors with typical precision. When he sees the black stone door, his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
"Seven," he says quietly.
"Should there be more?" Theo asks, stepping out from his own doorway. "Or fewer?"
"There should be exactly as many as there are," Stellan answers, but there's something in his tone that makes me think he's not entirely comfortable with his own inclusion.
Before anyone can respond, something shifts in my chest. Not painful—more like a gentle tug, like someone calling my name from very far away. I press my hand to my sternum, where the sensation seems to originate.
"Someone's here," I say, the words slipping out before I understand them.
Theo's expression sharpens. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know." I'm already moving, drawn by instinct I don't recognize. "But someone's at the door."
I pass the others as I walk, feeling their attention like weight on my shoulders.
Thane appears just behind me, his voice low but firm. “We’ve got her.”
The guys hesitate—Rhett half a step forward, Wes tense in the doorway, Jace watching me like he might follow anyway.
But one by one, they nod. Not fully at ease. But trusting.
Behind me, I hear footsteps—Thane and Stellan falling into step, shadows drawn by something they can't name either.
The front entrance reveals itself as I approach—a door I’m certain wasn’t visible before, made of pale wood banded with silver that gleams in the warm light. My hand rises, drawn without hesitation.
