“How much further?” she asks Theo, who’s been leading us with the single-minded determination of someone following a GPS that only exists in his head.
“Not far,” he says, but his voice is tight. “I can feel it. Like a… pull.”
“That’s comforting,” Stellan murmurs from behind us.
We’ve been walking for maybe twenty minutes when the forest starts to change. Nothing dramatic at first — just a gradual shift in the quality of light, the way sound seems to muffle and echo at the same time. The trees grow closer together, their branches intertwining overhead until the canopy blocks out most of the sky.
“Is it just me,” Wes says quietly, “or does it feel like the trees are watching us?”
I glance around and have to suppress a shiver. He’s not wrong. There’s something about the way the shadows fall, the way the leaves seem to rustle without any wind, that sets my teeth on edge.
“It’s the Ether,” Bree says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… responding to something. I can feel it.”
As if on cue, her Ether flares brighter, silver light dancing between the trees like foxfire. The black threads pulse through it, and I watch Thane’s expression tighten.
“Maybe we should—” Gray starts, but Theo suddenly stops dead in his tracks.
“There,” he breathes.
I follow his gaze and feel my smart-ass grin die on my lips.
At first glance, it looks like nothing much — just a clearing in the trees with some old stones scattered around. Nothing that would catch your attention unless you knew to look for it.
But as we get closer, I can see what made Theo’s breath catch. Carved into every visible stone surface are symbols — spirals and curves that hurt to look at directly, like they’re moving just outside the edge of vision. And scattered among the ancient stones, catching light that shouldn’t exist in the shadow of the trees, are pieces of broken mirror.
“Well,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “That’s weird.”
Bree takes a step forward, and her Ether surges like a tide. The symbols begin to pulse with faint light, and the mirror shards start to gleam like they’re reflecting something that isn’t there.
“Bree,” Rhett says, a warning in his voice.
But she’s not listening. She’s staring at the ruins like she’s seeing a ghost, her face pale but determined.
“It’s real,” she whispers. “Theo, you were right. It’s all real.”
The air around us thickens, charged with the kind of electric potential that makes your hair stand on end. And then the ground beneath the scattered stones starts to shift.
Not violently — more like breathing. Like the earth itself is exhaling after holding its breath for centuries.
The center of the clearing sinks inward, revealing what was hidden beneath. Stone steps, worn smooth by age, spiraling down into darkness so complete it seems to swallow light.
Whatever’s down there, whatever’s been waiting in the dark — it knows we’re here.
And it knows she’s here.
I look at the faces around me — fear, determination, resignation. We all know we’re about to cross a line we can’t uncross. Walk into something that’s going to change everything.
“So,” I say, keeping my voice light because someone has to. “Anyone want to bet those pancakes I promised are going to be the ‘holy-shit-we-survived’ variety?”
Bree looks back at me, and for just a moment, I see a flicker of the young girl who used to laugh at my jokes. Before Ethos. Before the Crown. Before everything got so fucking complicated.
“Only one way to find out,” she says, placing her foot on the top step.
What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?
Chapter 32
Bree
