So I stopped asking them.
Instead, I turned to what I do best: quiet obsession.
The sanctuary has a small library tucked into one of the restored wings—shelves of books that appeared the same way everything else here does, in response to need and intention. Most are general magical theory, histories of the various factions, treatises on Ether manipulation that make my head spin.
But scattered through them are fragments. Mentions of mirror rites and oaths sworn between selves. References to chambers where choice became destiny. Never enough to understand, always enough to frustrate.
The nameRileyappears nowhere. Not once.
ButAshendoes.Oathdoes. Always fractured, always incomplete, like someone tried to erase the knowledge but couldn’t quite manage it.
After sixteen hours of reading, my eyes burn and my hands shake with the effort of not throwing the books across the room. I need air. I need space. I need to move before I shatter something.
The sanctuary grounds stretch beyond the main building in ways that seem to shift depending on who’s exploring them. When Bree walks the paths, flowers bloom and trees bend toward her like she’s the sun. When Rhett trains outside, the fire-resistant stones arrange themselves into perfect practice rings.
When I walk them now, frustrated and hungry for answers, they lead me deeper than I’ve ever gone.
Past the garden, training areas and the meditation circles. Into sections where the paths become older, more overgrown, like they haven’t been walked in decades.
Something hums faintly under my skin—not a vision, but something close. A whisper of recognition, of rightness, pulling me forward even though I don’t understand why.
That’s when I hear footsteps behind me.
I turn, expecting Rhett or maybe Gray checking on me, but it’s Seth who emerges from the tree line. His sandy hair is disheveled, shirt sleeves pushed up like he’s been working, and there’s something careful in his expression. Cautious.
“Hey,” he says, stopping a few feet away. Like he’s not sure he’s welcome.
“Seth.” I nod, not moving closer or farther. “You’re pretty far from the main buildings.”
“So are you.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly. “Look, I… I wanted to apologize. For the other night. When you had that vision and came running out—” He stops, jaw working. “I know how it must have looked. Me being alone with her in the garden. I wasn’t trying to… I mean, I wouldn’t—” He trails off, looking uncomfortable.
I study his face, looking for any trace of the threat I saw in my vision. But all I see is genuine regret and something that looks like confusion.
“I was protecting her,” I say simply. “Or trying to. The vision felt so real.”
“I know. And I get it. But…” Seth runs a hand through his hair. “She looked at me like she didn’t know if she could trust me after that. Like maybe your vision was right and there really is something wrong with me.”
There’s something vulnerable in his voice that catches me off guard.
Seth falls into step beside me as I start walking again, and for a while we don’t talk. Just move through dappled sunlight and the whisper of leaves overhead. It’s easier than I expected—his presence somehow familiar despite how recently he joined us.
“She’s avoiding me now,” he says eventually. “Bree. I don’t blame her, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t want her to hate me. And I don’t know how not to screw this up. Not when she has all of you.”
He kicks at a loose stone on the path. “I heard someone in town call you guys theEther Entourage—like you’re this… unit. And I’m just some random guy who showed up and complicated everything.” His voice drops lower, more bitter. “But I can’t help it. There’s something about her that… I feel drawn to her. Like I’m supposed to be here. And I know that probably sounds crazy, but—”
The words hit something raw in my chest. Because I’ve seen it—the screwing up, the betrayal, the way his choices could tear everything apart. But I’ve also seen the other path, the one where he stands with us instead of against us.
“You know,” I say quietly, not looking at him, “you don’t have to be whole to be worthy of being seen. Not by her. Not by anyone.”
Seth goes completely still beside me. When I glance over, there’s something vulnerable and stunned in his expression, like I’ve just said something he’s never let himself believe. The same words I uttered to Bree all those years ago the first time, are just as true for him.
For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. Just stares at the path ahead, jaw working like he’s trying to find words that won’t crack his voice.
“I…” he starts, then stops. Clears his throat. “That’s not—I mean, how do you know that?” The question comes out rougher than he probably intended. “About being broken. About her not… not caring about that.”
There’s something desperate in his voice, like he’s asking for permission to hope.
“Because I’ve seen the way she looks at all of us,” I say softly. “The way she chose to let us stay, even when she was terrified. She doesn’t need us to be perfect, Seth. She just needs us to be real.”
