<b>Chapter </b><b>114 </b>
*Jiselle*
The gate pulsed behind me like a second heartbeat.
Not mine. Not Kael’s. Not the mountain’s.
Something older. Slower. Patient.
It didn’t reach for me. It didn’t need to. It waited. Every breath I took felt heavier than thest, as if the air between me and that shimmering split in the veil was thickening. Coaxing. Calling.
It didn’t ask questions. It offered certainty.
Step through. Be. Burn clean.
I’d felt drawn to it since the first re in my chest weeks ago, since the moment Kael called me Sovereign and the fire bent not to his will–but mine. Since the first voice whispered not in words, but promises.
I didn’t know where the gate led. Maybe nowhere. Maybe everywhere. All I knew was that it didn’t frighten me.
Until now.
Because behind me, Nate still stood–chest heaving, arms at his sides, gaze locked on mine like I was the only thing anchoring him to this realm. And the sound of his voice saying my name–raw, breaking, real–had started something inside me I hadn’t felt since before I broke.
Choice.
I stared at him, at the blood smudged across his jaw, the scorch on his sleeve, the look in his eyes that didn’t ask for the girl I’d been or the goddess I might be.
Just me.
He believed in me.
Even when I didn’t know if I still existed.
I turned back toward the gate, and that’s when the voice inside me stirred again.
Not his.
Not mine.
Hers.
“You were meant for more,” she said.
The words didn’te from outside. They bloomed inside my skull like heat breaking skin.
“You can end the pain. End the hunger. Step through and let the fire forget. You will never be used again.”
I closed my eyes.
“You’re not real,” I said quietly.
“I am what you could be.”
Her tone was calm. No menace. No anger.
Just certainty.
“I made the hard choice. I burned the bond. I sealed the veil. I became what they needed.”
“No.” My jaw clenched. “You became what they told you you had to be.”
“And look how far you’vee mimicking me.”
“I’m not you.”
Her voice sharpened, just slightly. “Then walk away. Prove it.”
I took a step back.
And the gate responded.
It red–not bright, not angry. Almost like it breathed. Like it was disappointed.
The me didn’t scream at me for refusing.
It mourned.
That was worse.
Sessfully unlocked!
“I don’t want absolution,” I whispered. “I want to remember.”
“Then you will suffer.”
The words sliced through me.
And my magic broke.
Not out, but in.
It turned inward like a copsing star, like the fire had nowhere left to go. My knees hit the <i>stone </i>with a crack that echoed, and suddenly my body was burning. Not from outside. From inside out.
I screamed.
mes licked up my spine, twisted through my ribcage. My mouth opened and light poured out instead of sound. My hands wed at the ground, desperate for something solid. Something real.
I felt the scars from the bond sear awake.
I felt myself fracture.
I could feel herughing inside me.
“You can’t hold it.”
And she was right.
I couldn’t.
But I didn’t have to.
Because he caught me.
Arms wrapped around my back, grounding hands pulling me away from the white–lit threshold. His magic wrapped around mine–not violently, not to subdue it, just to anchor it. To remind it. That there was something else worth holding onto.
His voice cracked beside my ear. “Jiselle. Breathe. I’ve got you.”
<b>I </b>tried.
I choked on me.
But his arms didn’t falter. His grip didn’t loosen.
And through the chaos, through the pain, I felt it–him.
Nathaniel.
Not as a mate. Not as a savior. As a presence. As truth.
I pressed my forehead against his shoulder, gasping.
“I couldn’t hold it,” I whispered, eyes burning with more than magic. “She’s still in there. The echo. The first me. She tried to–she told me-<b>” </b>
“I know,” he said. “Eva saw it.”
My breath shuddered out. “I almost stepped through.”
“I know that too.”
“You should’ve let me.”
“No.”
“It would’ve been easier.”
“For who?” he asked, not gently.
I didn’t answer.
He shifted, kneeling fully beside me, one hand still on my back, the other cradling my face.
“I didn’te here to pull you back to who you were,” he said. “I came to stand with whoever you are now. But I wasn’t going to watch you disappear.”
“I don’t know who I am,” I admitted, voice shaking. “Every time I try to choose, someone speaks for me. Kael. The prophecy. The me. Even her.<i>” </i>
“Then let’s speak louder.”
My eyes met his.
His were fierce. Tired. Full.
Not perfect. Not heroic.
Just his.
“You grounded me,” I whispered.
He gave a sad smile. “You’ve always been fire, Jiselle. I was just the fool who thought I could contain you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I didn’t want to,” he said.
The burn began to recede–slowly, like smoke bleeding out from the center of a dying star. I leaned against him, shivering. His jacket smelled like ash and cold wind. It was the most solid thing I’d felt in weeks.
He held me like I was still worth catching.
And for the first time since the ritual, I believed I might be.
“I didn’t step through,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know that too.”
“And I still don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
He tilted his forehead to mine.
“You just proved you are.”
I closed my eyes, tears slipping free.
“I remembered who I was,” I said, “the moment you
His hand moved through my hair.
said my name.”
“And I remembered why I never stopped,” he said, “when you didn’t burn me.”
I pulled back slightly, enough to see his face.
“Why did youe?”
“Because even if you turned to ash,” he said softly, “I’d still know how to find you.”
My magic trembled inside me–flickering, afraid, hopeful.
The echo didn’t speak again.
And for once, the fire inside me was quiet.
Because it wasn’t alone.