Delphine was quiet for a moment, studying the schematic. Then she pulled another page from the folder. “Look at this one.”
This page was different. The handwriting was messier, less controlled. Charlotte had written it quickly, urgently. The date in the corner showed 1763—months before her death.
Someone is watching. The mirrors show tampering I can’t trace. My confessions are being intercepted, recorded, stored in ways I never intended. The network is being corrupted.
Bastien felt his jaw tighten. “She knew. At the end, she knew someone had infiltrated the system.”
“There’s more.” Delphine flipped to the next page. “This was written a week later.”
I’ve sealed the primary documents. Hidden them where only B. would think to look. The network’s true purpose must survive whatever corruption follows. Whoever is doing this wants to make love look like manipulation. Wants to prove that soul bonds are just sophisticated control.
They’re wrong. But they’re persuasive. And they have access to my confession chambers—to every vulnerable moment I’ve spoken into glass.
B.: If you’re reading this, the corruption succeeded. Don’t believe what the mirrors show. Remember what we chose. Every day. Every lifetime. That’s the truth the network was meant to preserve.
The words ended there. No signature. No further elaboration. Just Charlotte trying to protect the truth she’d built into the system before someone twisted it beyond recognition.
“Gideon,” Delphine said. “This is what Gideon’s been doing. Using her confession chambers against her.”
“Against both of us.” Bastien set the page down carefully. “He’s been building this for a long time. Long enough to study Charlotte’s methods, infiltrate her network, and set up a counter-narrative.”
“What counter-narrative?”
Before he could answer, the reading room’s windows flickered. Not the lights—the glass itself. For three seconds, every reflective surface in the room showed the same image:
A mirror. Massive, ornate, positioned in what looked like a study or workshop. And written across its surface in glowing script:
She never loved you. She loved the idea of permanence.
You never loved her. You loved the certainty.
Soul bonds are just fear wearing devotion’s mask.
Freedom is love without obligation.
The message faded. The windows returned to normal, showing only the courtyard beyond and the clouds moving across morning sky.
Delphine had gone very still. “What was that?”
“Gideon’s philosophy.” Bastien moved to the nearest window, examining the glass for residual resonance. “He’s beenseeding the network with these statements. Turning Charlotte’s confession chambers into broadcast points for his ideology.”
“That’s not just philosophy. That’s . . .” She struggled for the word. “That’s evangelical. He’s trying to convert people.”
“He’s trying to prove a point.” Bastien could feel the network humming beneath the city now, activated and amplified. “That soul bonds remove autonomy. That what Charlotte and I built was just sophisticated manipulation. That choosing someone across lifetimes isn’t actually choice—it’s programming.”
Delphine absorbed this, her expression moving through several emotions before settling on something that looked like anger. “And he’s using you as his case study.”
“He’s using both of us.” Bastien turned to face her. “You’re the proof he needs. Charlotte’s direct descendant, carrying her resonance, stabilizing the network just by existing. If he can force you to reject me—publicly, through the mirror network—then he proves that soul bonds can be broken. That they’re not sacred or permanent or meaningful. Just another magical construct that falls apart under pressure.”
“He wants me to reject you.” Not a question. Understanding settling into certainty. “In front of the entire city. Through every reflective surface.”
“A citywide sermon,” Bastien confirmed. “Using Charlotte’s network to broadcast the moment you choose to walk away. Proof that even the strongest soul bond can’t survive when the participant actually examines it clearly.”
“But I haven’t—” She stopped. Started again. “I don’t even remember Charlotte. How can I reject a bond I don’t feel?”
“That’s exactly his point.” Bastien moved back to the table, picking up Charlotte’s note about corruption. “He’s been documenting our partnership. Every conversation, every moment of trust, every choice you’ve made to stay involved despite the danger. He’s framing it as evidence that you’vebeen manipulated. That proximity to me has influenced your decisions without your conscious awareness.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
