Maman made a considering sound. “Your girl going to be with you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You need her frequency for this to work proper. But Bastien—she might see everything. All your choices, all your fears, all the ways you shaped things without telling her. You ready for that?”
“No,” he admitted. “But it’s necessary.”
“Truth usually is.” Maman’s voice softened. “I’ll ward my shop, keep the mirrors covered. Whatever happens tonight, some of us should stay outside the broadcast range. In case you need backup.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Just try not to break the Quarter while you’re saving it.”
She hung up. Bastien stood in his quiet apartment, watching late afternoon light slant through the windows. The city felt tense. Waiting. Every reflective surface charged with potential energy, ready to carry whatever message Gideon or Bastien or Delphine decided to broadcast.
Five o’clock arrived. Delphine knocked precisely on time.
She’d dressed practically again—jeans, boots, jacket. But her face showed the strain. Not fear exactly. More like the look of someone preparing for surgery. Necessary pain, chosen deliberately, but still dreading the moment the anesthetic wore off.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No. But let’s do it anyway.”
They gathered the supplies—Charlotte’s journal, the architectural drawings, the broken circle mirror wrapped in silk. Protective wards that Bastien had spent the afternoon preparing. Flashlights, water, the small practical details that mattered when you were about to spend hours in an underground chamber confronting magical attacks.
The walk to the Warehouse District took twenty minutes. Neither of them spoke much. What was there to say? They bothknew what was coming. Both understood that after tonight, everything would be different. Either Delphine would choose to honor the bond with full knowledge of what it meant, or she’d walk away. Both were valid choices. Both would hurt in different ways.
The convergence point waited. The iron panel stood open—not invitation but challenge. The access shaft descended into darkness, water visible at the bottom, reflecting nothing.
“Last chance,” Bastien said quietly. “You can walk away. No judgment. No consequences. Just . . . a different choice.”
Delphine looked at him directly. “That’s why I’m not walking away. Because you keep offering me the exit. Because you mean it every time. That tells me something about who you are.”
She descended first this time. Bastien followed, pulling the iron panel closed behind them. The shaft sealed with a sound like finality.
The tunnel system waited. Glass veins pulsing with their combined frequencies—gold and silver intertwined. Water ankle-deep and warmer than before. The network recognizing that they’d returned. That they’d found Charlotte’s tools. That they were preparing to reclaim what Gideon had corrupted.
They reached the altar chamber at six-fifteen. Fifteen minutes until the sermon began.
Bastien set up the wards methodically, creating a protective circle around the altar. Not to block the broadcast—that would defeat the purpose—but to prevent Gideon from doing anything more direct. The doppelgänger attack the previous night had shown that Gideon could manifest through the mirrors. These wards would keep that contained.
Delphine examined the broken circle mirror, holding it carefully in both hands. “When you said it forces honesty even from myself—what did you mean?”
“The mirror reflects truth,” Bastien explained. “Not just what you say but what you actually believe. If you try to speak something you don’t genuinely feel, the mirror won’t amplify it. It only works with authentic response.”
“So I can’t just perform confidence. I have to actually choose.”
“Yes. That’s the point. Charlotte wanted to make sure that any choice made through her network was real. That’s why Gideon’s manipulation is so dangerous—he’s using the same tool but inverting its purpose. Broadcasting doubt instead of truth. Fear instead of clarity.”
Delphine nodded slowly. She placed the mirror on the altar, positioned precisely at the center of the crest. “And you’ll be here the whole time? Anchoring the frequency?”
“I’ll be here. But you’re the one who speaks. The network responds to your voice because you’re the living anchor. I just maintain the resonance.”
Six twenty-eight. Two minutes.
The tunnel mirrors flickered. All of them simultaneously. Light building in the glass, preparing to carry whatever message Gideon had crafted.
Bastien positioned himself behind the altar. Placed his hands on the celestial glyphs. Felt his frequency connect to the network, gold light flowing through Charlotte’s carefully designed channels.
