Because loving someone means wanting what’s best for them, even when it breaks your heart.
The words come out sharper than I intended, edged with frustration and longing and the kind of desperate hope I usually keep buried. Seth doesn’t flinch, but something flickers across his expression.
Understanding, maybe. Or recognition of his own hunger to matter, to be chosen, to be seen as essential rather than expendable.
We walk back toward the sanctuary in silence, but it’s different now. Weighted with shared discovery and the knowledge that we’re both carrying pieces of something larger than ourselves.
I still don’t know which Seth this is—the one who’ll stand with us, or the one who’ll tear everything apart. The visions flicker between both futures like competing flames, and only his choices will determine which one comes to pass. But for now, in this moment, he feels like an ally.
Maybe that’s enough for today.
The mirror shard pulses steadily against my skin, a reminder of what we’ve found. What Bree needs to know.
Whatever comes next, whatever choice she has to make—at least she’ll have all the pieces. At least no one will be able to keep the truth from her anymore.
Even me.
Chapter 7
Jace
Sleep is for people who don’t have thoughts ricocheting around their skull like pinballs at three in the morning.
I’ve been staring at the ceiling for two hours, listening to the sanctuary’s quiet hum and trying not to think about everything that’s been building tension in this place lately. Theo’s weird visions. Bree avoiding everyone like we’ve all got the plague. The way Thane showed up and suddenly the air tastes different—sharper, more electric.
And then there’s whatever’s been happening with Wes.
He’s been… different. More awake somehow, like he’s been sleepwalking for years and only just noticed. The way he looks at people now, like he’s seeing layers beneath the surface. It should be unsettling.
It is unsettling.
But not in a bad way, which is maybe the most unsettling part of all.
I roll out of bed with a frustrated sigh. When my brain won’t shut up, there’s only one solution: make something that requires just enough focus to drown out the noise but not so much that I actually have to think.
Pancakes.
Perfect chaos food. Flour, eggs, milk, heat—simple enough that even I can’t screw it up too badly. And if I’m being honest, there’s atiny part of me that wants to show up Mairen. Sweet woman, incredible cook, but she’s been making breakfast for everyone like it’s her personal mission to feed the entire magical world.
Time to prove that the sanctuary’s resident knife-throwing disaster can handle a skillet without setting anything on fire.
Pancake supremacy, here I come.
The kitchen is dark when I pad down the hallway, bare feet silent on cool stone. One of the many perks of growing up learning to move without sound—midnight snack raids become an art form.
I flip on just enough lights to see what I’m doing, then make a beeline for the massive pantry. The sanctuary’s version of food storage is about as subtle as everything else here—carved wooden doors that could double as castle gates, shelves that stretch up toward a vaulted ceiling, enough supplies to feed an army.
Or a bunch of magically awakening twenty-somethings with supernatural metabolisms.
I’m already mentally cataloging what I need—flour, baking powder, maybe some vanilla if this place runs fancy—when I swing open the pantry door.
And stop dead.
What the hell—
Wes and Gray are inside.
Not just standing close. Not just having a conversation.
