“Gray?” Wes’s voice pulls me back.
“I’m fine.” I turn away from the mirror. “Just need to clear my head.”
“Want company?”
I look at him—at the fear barely contained beneath his calm exterior, at the way his hands shake when he thinks no one’s watching. He needs grounding as much as I need air.
“Yeah,” I say. “Come on.”
We head up the stairs together, leaving the others to finish planning. As we step into the night, and make our way back to the Sanctuary, I look at the place that’s become home.
At the window where Bree’s room is.
Where Riley sleeps in her bed, wears her face, lives her life.
And I make a silent promise.
We’re coming for you, Bree.
Just hold on a little longer.
Chapter 33
Theo
The chamber hums beneath my skin like a living thing.
I stand at the center of the ritual space, surrounded by mirrors that gleam with impossible light—silver runes carved into their frames pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. Every surface reflects not just what I am, but what I could become—whole, complete, terrifying.
My magic vibrates through my bones, electric and urgent. Visions flicker at the edges of my perception—fractured images that won’t stay still long enough to make sense.
Light. Fire. Mirrors cracking. Bree’s crown gleaming silver-white.
Then—darker flashes:black Ether curling like ink through water, a woman with Bree’s face but sharper edges, silver chains wrapped around wrists I recognize.
I blink hard, forcing the images back. Not now. I need to stay present.
But the visions keep bleeding through, insistent. Like my magic knows something I don’t and is trying desperately to warn me.
“You okay?” Gray’s voice cuts through the static in my head.
I turn to find him watching me with that careful intensity he reserves for moments when things might go wrong. The others are gathered around the chamber’s perimeter—Rhett near the entrance, flames dancing beneath his skin; Jace perched on a broken pillar, spinning ablade between his fingers; Wes hovering close to Seth, whose familiar coils tight around his wrist.
Thane and Stellan stand at opposite ends of the mirror circle, silver and shadow in perfect balance. Zira leans against the far wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Just… a lot of energy in here.”
Gray doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. That’s one of the things I’ve always loved about him—he knows when to give space.
Thane’s voice cuts through the chamber’s hum. “Everyone ready?”
My gut screams that something’s wrong. That we’re missing something critical.
But we’re out of time. Bree’s trapped in the Void, and every second we waste is another second she’s alone with whatever darkness lives there.
Ethos.
The name whispers through my mind, and I shudder. I’ve seen him in fragments—glimpses of calm, predatory patience that makes my skin crawl. He’s waiting for us. Waiting for this exact moment.
