“I mean exactly that.” Her voice is flat now, resigned. “I’ve watched hundreds go through successfully. But every time I try, it rejects me. The mirrors won’t take me. The bond won’t form. I’ve tried everything—every preparation, every ritual. Nothing changes.”
Behind me, Wes murmurs, “That shouldn’t be possible.”
“Unless something’s blocking it,” Theo adds quietly.
Thane’s voice is sharp. “Or she’s already fractured.”
Nyx’s eyes flash. “I’m not fractured. I’mstuck. And I need to know how to fix it.”
I study her, trying to piece it together. The Oath is supposed to work for anyone who approaches it with intent. If it’s not…
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Her expression hardens. “You’re the Source. You’re supposed to—”
“I know what I’m supposed to be,” I cut in. “But I don’t have all the answers. Not yet.”
The Ether hums around us, restless, like it’s searching for something too.
And then the air shifts.
A hum threads through the clearing—old, deep, familiar. The space between us thickens, growing dark, and I feel it before I see it.
The raven.
It slips through from the Void like water through a crack, black feathers shimmering violet in the fading light. It lands on my shoulder,solid and real. The Ether brightens; the air smells like rain before a storm.
Nyx’s dagger hits the ground.
“No.” Her voice breaks completely. She drops to her knees. “No, that’s—”
She reaches toward it, hands shaking, eyes wide and desperate. “I don’t— I don’t understand. Why do I—” She chokes on the words. “Please.Please.”
The raven tilts its head—calm, unbothered.
Nyx is unraveling in front of me, gasping like she can’t breathe. “I need it. I don’t know why but Ineed it.”
Every instinct in me wants to step forward. But I stay still. The Ether curls tighter, holding her without touching.
I take a slow breath. “Help us get into the sanctuary,” I say quietly. “Do that, and when this is over, we’ll help you finish the Oath. Whatever it takes.”
Her head lifts. Her eyes are wide, glassy with unshed tears. “You’d do that?”
“Yes.”
She studies me for a long moment, searching for the lie. She doesn’t find one.
Finally, she nods. “You’ll have your way in.”
The raven lets out a low, echoing croak. The sound settles into the clearing like a vow.
Nyx rises slowly, not meeting my eyes. She picks up her dagger and sheaths it, then steps closer to the edge of the Ether’s light.
“There are tunnels,” she says, voice steadier now. “Old ones, under the eastern wall.”
“I know,” I say. “We already learned of those.”
Her jaw tightens. For a second I think she’s going to argue, but then she exhales. “There’s another way. Older. Goes deeper, comes up inside the sanctuary—not just the outer grounds. The Feeders don’t know about it because it’s sealed from their side. You just need to know where to look.”
