I look at her. Really look at her. The woman who’s been broken and rebuilt more times than anyone should have to endure. The woman who just healed her own mirror self instead of destroying her. The woman who keeps choosing compassion when the world gives her every reason not to.
She’s looking at me now, waiting. Asking without words:What do we do?
And I realize this is the moment. The choice I’ve been avoiding for centuries.
Stand with the Counsel’s order, or stand with her truth.
“Then don’t,” I say.
Her eyes widen slightly.
“We go down there,” I continue, voice steady now. “Together.”
She nods once, certain.
I turn to the others. “Stay back. All of you. If this goes wrong—”
“It won’t,” Bree says.
Gray steps forward. “Bree—”
“Please.” She meets his eyes, then each of the others in turn. “Trust me.”
Rhett’s the first to nod. Then Theo. One by one, they step back.
Riley’s still whispering apologies, tears streaming down her face. Zira puts a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.
Bree and I start down the slope.
The Ether responds to her immediately—daisies blooming in our footsteps, the air warming despite the morning chill. The land recognizes her. Welcomes her.
The guards at the gate finally notice us approaching. One straightens, reaching for his weapon.
Bree doesn’t break stride.
The air shifts. The daisies at the gate shimmer, and a soft pulse of silver light rolls outward like a wave.
Both guards sway, then collapse—breathing slow and even. Asleep.
“You didn’t kill them,” I say quietly.
“They’re not the enemy,” Bree replies. “Not yet.”
We reach the stone wall together. It’s higher than it looked from above, rough stone that’s stood for centuries.
Bree climbs first. I move beside her, steadying her hand when she slips on a loose stone. Our eyes meet for a breath—silent understanding passing between us.
We’re in this together now. Whatever comes next.
We pull ourselves up and over, dropping down into the courtyard on the other side.
The moment we land, heads turn.
Feeders stop working, tools falling from numb hands. They stare at us—at Bree’s silver Ether, at my face they probably recognize from Counsel meetings.
One woman meets my eyes and flinches.
And I feel it run through me.
