More symbols came both from his shadows and the book, each sigil burning with purpose. Magic thrummed between us. Threads of shadow and gold twisted through my smoke, and Alastor’s green ribbons, but it was Finley’s magic that took hold.
Her red threads speared through it all, sharp and certain. They caught the others and drew them into patterns, binding Alastor’s sigils and centering the rest of us to her rhythm. Death and life were shaped in her hands. Not warring but moving as one.
Teddy’s mage magic and my shadow magic fed the current, giving it weight and strength, but it was Finley’s magic that guided it. Her magic knew how to free the souls and send them where they belonged.
The orb trembled, and light leaked from the forming cracks. A low hum filled the air, crawling beneath my skin.
A ripple took shape, roaring outward until the air against my wall split open with a new tear. Not breaking the stone but peeling reality away from it.
Of all the places for a doorway to the dead to appear, it had to be my home.
Alastor’s voice faltered, and Teddy went on without him. Her hand lifted with the orb floating above us. We followed suit, my hand still clasping Finley’s as we all shifted to stand. Then itsplintered completely. Shards of gold fractured above us, each line shimmering like hundreds of stars. From within, a stream of light spilled upward, drifting toward the open ripple that formed along my wall.
The air trembled and shimmered. Souls, thousands of them, hovered between realms, drawn to the breach yet uncertain.
Finley’s threads raced forward, red against the faint glow, unfurling like veins through the ether. Her magic, twined with Alastor’s sigils, sealed the edges of the split, weaving order where there should have been collapse.
A pull beyond the veil came. Steady and cold.Eiran.
He was there on the other side, his presence holding the tear open. I could feel his shadows pressing from beyond, shaping the path Finley paved and guiding the lost through it.
The crossing we’d destroyed hadn’t returned. This wasn’t a doorway. This was Eiran answering.
She swayed, and I held her waist, sending my magic through our bond to strengthen her. Alastor’s joined ours, then Teddy’s, but it wasn’t until Etienne sent his as well that the current steadied.
The souls began to rise.
For long, impossible beats, life and death moved as one. Finley stood at the center of it, the bridge between what was lost and what remained.
One light lingered. It hovered before Alastor, trembling as if afraid to approach him. Then slowly it transformed until a male stood where it had been.
He looked almost exactly like Alastor. Same gray eyes, same proud line of his jaw. But where Alastor’s power carried weight, this male’s presence was almost empty.
“Blaise,” Alastor whispered, voice breaking as his shadows stilled.
The brothers stood there frozen, and millennia of loss pressed in that single moment, then Alastor stepped forward and the two embraced.
“You found your way to me,” Blaise said, voice raw.
Alastor’s shoulders trembled. “Too late.”
Blaise pulled back, gripping his arms. “No?—”
The word faltered as light flickered along his form.
“I don’t have long,” Blaise said, urgency threading through his voice.
His gaze moved quickly, memorizing his brother and each of us.
He pressed a fist to his chest in a small bow. “It seems you found a family who refuses to let you live alone.” He reached for Teddy and guided her trembling hand into Alastor’s. “Remind him what hope looks like.” Then his eyes, already dimming, found mine. “Continue to breathe life into my stubborn brother. Continue to remind him how to live.”
His form flickered again, thinner this time.
Alastor grabbed for him. “You can’t just—after all this?—”
Blaise smiled, fragile and fading. “Live, Brother.”
Light unraveled through his chest. Alastor’s hand passed through him.
