“They will always fear you,” he continues, circling me with words instead of footsteps. “Every time your power grows, they step back a little more. Whisper a little quieter. Wonder when you’ll finally snap.”
My chest tightens because he’s not lying. I’ve seen it—the careful way they watch me, the gentle voices they use like I’m something fragile that might break.
“You give and give until there’s nothing left,” Ethos murmurs. “But I would take only what you choose to offer. I would never lie about what I am.”
The black threads surge stronger, and for just a second, it feels like relief. Like finally admitting something I’ve been too scared to say out loud.
Maybe I’m tired of being the one who gives. Maybe I want to be wanted for something other than what I can do for everyone else. Maybe I want to take.
Thane must see something in my face because he grabs my arm. “Bree, don’t. Whatever he’s offering, it’s not real.”
“No, not yet.” Ethos sounds bored now, like he’s done playing. “You’re not ready to choose. But you will be.”
The darkness fractures around us without warning. The ground shatters like glass, and suddenly we’re falling—
—crashing back into the sanctuary with a bone-jarring thud. Stone floor. Warm light. Voices shouting my name.
But his voice follows us back, soft and satisfied: “Sleep tight, little queen.”
I’m shaking—not just from the impact, but from something deeper. My skin feels too tight, too sensitive, like every nerve is hyperaware. The warmth in my chest hasn’t faded, and I hate myself for noticing, for wanting more of whatever that was.
When Wes reaches for me, his touch burns in a way that has nothing to do with his awakening magic. Everything feels too much, too intense. I can smell Gray’s concern, hear Rhett’s heartbeat hammering, feel Theo’s exhaustion from his rescue attempt. Jace’s eagerness to help.
And Thane—he takes one step toward me, hand half-raised as if to steady me… then stops. Pulls back just enough to make it look like he’s giving me space, like it’s for my sake. But I see the flicker in his eyes before the mask drops back into place.
Fear.
Chapter 16
Rhett
She’s back.
I can’t stop staring at her, can’t quite believe she’s real. One moment she was gone—vanished into whatever hole the Ether carved out for her and Thane—and now she’s here, curled on one of the sanctuary’s low couches like nothing happened.
Except everything happened.
I remember the hollow ache that followed her disappearance, the way the sanctuary felt wrong without her presence anchoring it. The frantic energy that consumed all of us, the desperate planning and the failed attempt to reach her.
And now she’s back, but she isn’t the same. I don’t know why.
Her Ether coils close to her skin, silver mist threaded with something dark. Beautiful, yes, but wrong. Disturbing in a way that makes my instincts go quiet and alert.
The others must feel it too. Wes hovers nearby like he wants to touch her but doesn’t dare. Gray’s jaw is locked tight, his sharp eyes tracking every movement. Theo looks exhausted, drained from whatever he did to try and pull them back. Jace keeps starting conversations and abandoning them halfway through. Even Stellan watches from his position against the far wall, more interested than he lets on.
And Thane—
Thane looks like he’s seen a ghost. Or become one.
“Where did you go?” Wes asks quietly, his dark eyes soft with concern.
“The Void,” Bree says, like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.
Stellan goes completely still. Not just quiet—frozen, like every muscle in his body has locked. His face drains of color, and for just a moment, his perfect composure cracks entirely.
“Stellan?” Thane’s voice carries sharp concern.
“You were in the Void.” It’s not a question. Stellan’s voice is barely above a whisper, and there’s something raw in it none of us have heard before. “How are you—” He stops, jaw working. “How are you both still here?”
