The air is thick with the residue of Ethos and Riley’s power—corrupted, clinging, reshaping the sanctuary into something that looks like the place I was kept.
Every surface pulses faintly, like a heartbeat that’s forgotten its rhythm.
This was supposed to behome.
The Ether inside me surges before I can stop it—silver mist rippling outward, brushing across corrupted stone.
The sanctuary responds.
Too fast. Too much.
My knees buckle.
Rhett is there instantly, heat at my back, an arm at my waist. “I’ve got you.”
But the Ether doesn’t stop.
It spreads like water finding cracks—soft, deliberate, unstoppable. Silver light flows over every surface they twisted.
The black crystal melts back into living stone.
Light floods through windows that had been dark.
Vines turn green along the arches, curling upward like they’re waking from a long sleep.
The air warms, filling with the scent of clean earth and daisy pollen.
I can barely breathe through the exhaustion pulling at my edges, but I feel it—the sanctuary remembering what it was meant to be.
Behind us, gasps rise from the courtyard—the silver already climbing the outer walls.
Rhett’s grip tightens as I sway again. “You need to sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
He’s right. I’m not.
My legs are shaking, my hands trembling, and the Ether is still pulsing faintly around me like it’s not done yet.
Footsteps approach from the side hall.
I look up.
Mairen.
Her apron is still damp, tears shining on her cheeks, but she’s smiling—really smiling—as she crosses the restored hall toward us.
“Bless you, sweetheart,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “Come, sit. You all look half-starved.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, just takes my hand and starts leading us deeper into the sanctuary. Rhett keeps his arm around my waist, supporting most of my weight as we follow.
The kitchen appears ahead—warm light spilling through windows that weren’t there before. Or maybe they were, and I just couldn’t see them under all the corruption.
The room smells like home. Like bread and herbs and the clean bite of morning.
Mairen pulls out a chair, guiding me into it with gentle insistence. “Sit. All of you. I’ll make something.”
