My chest tightens. The chamber. The mirrors. The ash under our feet.
“It requires a choice,” Thane adds, his silver eyes fixed on some point beyond us. “One that can’t be undone. The Council has kept it buried for good reason.”
Stellan and Thane exchange another look—brief, loaded with something the rest of us don’t get. There’s something in that silence, something they’re not saying.
The hunger in me sharpens, clawing toward something I don’t understand. Toward Bree and what she’s being pulled toward.
And toward the growing certainty that whatever Stellan tells us next will change everything.
Chapter 34
Stellan
Children playing at gods, sitting in a kitchen eating pancakes, about to hear the oldest story they’ll ever know.
I watch them arrange themselves around the island—Jace still sulking about his culinary territory being invaded, Rhett radiating heat even while somewhat calm, Wes restless with that hunger threading through him I know too well. Gray sits with his usual careful stillness, but I can see the tension in the line of his shoulders. Theo’s already gone quiet, his eyes distant like he’s seeing fragments of what I’m about to tell them.
Even Mairen has stilled completely, her hands motionless on the counter. She knows. Perhaps not the specifics, but she recognizes the weight of what’s about to be spoken.
The Ashen Oath. A name I haven’t said aloud in decades, though it’s lived in my thoughts like a sleeping serpent ever since I laid eyes on her. Beautiful in ways that unsettle me, everything I didn’t know I was starving for wrapped in scars and uncertainty. The pull toward her defies every rule I’ve built around myself, every careful distance I maintain. And that terrifies me more than the Oath itself.
“The last rite of the Source line,” I begin, keeping my voice level, controlled. “A binding between what you are and what waits in the mirror.”
I pause, letting that settle. Watch their faces process the implications.
“Most believe it never worked,” I continue, allowing a thread of doubt to color my words. “Centuries of ash don’t lie. But then again—” I glance at Thane, and he catches my meaning immediately. “Centuries of suppression might explain the failures better than flawed ritual.”
Thane leans forward, silver eyes sharp. “If it never worked, why was it banned? Why does the Council still fear it?” His voice takes on that cutting political edge. “They’re not protecting us from myth, Stellan. They’re protecting their power.”
There it is. The seed planted. Let them think this is about Council politics, about power structures they can understand. They’re not ready for the deeper truth—that some of us have been waiting centuries for exactly this moment.
“What does it actually do?” Gray asks, cutting straight to the heart of it. Always practical, our Gray.
“Two paths,” I explain, settling into the rhythm of revelation. “The first—complete fusion. Two halves becoming whole. The power would be…” I pause, searching for words that won’t terrify them completely. “Exponential. Unlike anything the magical world has seen since the Source lines ruled.”
Wes shifts in his seat, and I can taste the hunger coming off him—sharp, curious, afraid. Good. He should be afraid.
“And the second?” Theo asks quietly.
“Remaining separate but Oath-bound. Resonance between the selves, shared strength across the Human Realm and the Mirror Realm, but maintaining individual identity.” I keep my tone neutral,though I know which path calls to me more strongly. “Less power, but more… sustainable.”
“The chamber recognizes bloodline,” Thane adds, his voice taking on that formal Council tone. “It woke for her because she’s the first. The one who must open the path. Once she takes the Oath, once the Ether Source magic flows through the ritual again…” He pauses, the implications hanging heavy. “The door opens for everyone else.”
“So I’m the key.” Bree’s voice cuts through the silence, steady and clear. She’s leaning against the window still, but there’s something different in her posture now. Less uncertain, more… present. “Not just for myself, but for everyone.”
The mist around her shifts, and I notice the black threads seem less chaotic now, more deliberate. Like they’re responding to her growing understanding rather than overwhelming her.
Rhett’s hands clench on the counter. “And you’re telling us this because…?”
“Because the chamber is awake now.” I pause, watching their faces. “It knows she exists. It will call to her. The pull will only get stronger until she answers.”
“Good.” Bree pushes away from the window, moving closer to the group. There’s something almost regal in the way she carries herself now, like she’s finally stepping into a space that was always meant for her. “I’m tired of things happening to me. Of being pulled and pushed and told what I am without understanding why.”
The Ether moves with her, and I can feel the power radiating off her—not wild or reactive like before, but controlled. Purposeful.
What I don’t say: I want to be there when she does. I want to witness the moment she chooses—not just between paths, but betweenversions of herself. There’s something intoxicating about that level of transformation, that absolute commitment to becoming.
“Can someone force her?” Jace asks, his usual humor absent. “Make the choice for her?”
