Chapter <b>156 </b>


    <b>Chapter </b><b>156 </b>


    ‘Ethan<b>‘ </b>


    The ruins loomed ahead, broken stone piled like bones left out to dry.


    Max moved just ahead of me, silent but alert. His shoulders were taut, his fingers twitching every so often near the hilt of his de. We didn’t speak as we passed through the remnants of the old me ring, scorched symbols still clinging to the foundation like stubborn shadows.


    The wind was sharp here–less like weather, more like breath. Something exhaled through this ce. Something old.


    “You’ve been quiet,” I finally said, stepping over a cracked tile etched with a faint rune. “Since we left camp.”


    Max didn’t look at me. “Plenty to think about.”


    “Yeah,” I said. “Like how we’re chasing a madman through cursed ruins while the only person who might be able to stop him is tethered to the same damn fire he’s trying to unleash.“–


    He let out a breath that sounded more like a scoff. “You always did like painting things in worst–case colors.”


    “It’s the only way I know how to stay ready.”


    Still no eye contact. But he slowed slightly. Enough for me to match his pace.


    I didn’t speak again for a while. Not until we crossed into the inner courtyard–what must have once been a ceremonial ground. The outer walls were half–copsed, but enough had survived to show the structure’s original shape: a circle within a triangle, the edges lined with sigils that pulsed faintly under moonlight.


    Three points.


    Three ces where the Gate had once been anchored.


    Two were lit.


    The third was empty.


    “She’s thest piece,” Max said quietly.


    I looked at him sharply. “You knew that?<b>” </b>


    “I guessed,” he replied. “Same time you probably did.”


    “And you didn’t say anything?”


    “What would it have changed?” He finally turned, meeting my eyes. “That I feel it too? That the me she carries isn’t just growing inside her–it’s radiating through everything? The leyline. The bond. The Gate. <i>Us</i>,”


    His voice broke a little on thest word. He didn’t hide it.


    “You still love her,” I said. It wasn’t a question.


    He looked away again, jaw clenched. “Not the way you think.”


    “Then say it.”


    The silence stretched between us, taut and raw.


    Then, finally, he spoke.


    <b>1/4 </b>


    Thu, 12 Jun.


    Chapter <b>156 </b>


    <b>“</b><b>My </b><b>life</b><b>,</b><b>” </b>he said. “No hesitation. That’s what I’d give for her now.”


    I didn’t breathe for a full second. Not because I was surprised–but because I believed him.


    And not as some romantic gesture


    <b>As </b>a vow.


    He stepped toward the center of the courtyard, boots crunching over ckened ash, and pointed at the empty triangle carved into the floor.


    “This is where he’s going to do it,” Max said. “Where the third sigil will go.”


    I stared down at the space.


    At the way the stone dipped slightly.


    At how the air above it shimmered faintly, like it was waiting.


    We circled the ruins slowly, searching for any sign that Kael had already begun. Half–burned bones lined the far edge, piled with what looked like ritual offerings. Broken masks. Small totems. Cracked vials of dried blood.


    All the usual signs of someone preparing for something unnatural.


    “He’s close,” I muttered.


    Max nodded. “Or watching.”


    My eyes narrowed. “Do you think he can feel her?”


    “Ithink he always has.”


    We moved toward the far archway, where remnants <i>of </i>stained ss still clung to rusted iron frames. One panel had survived intact–barely. It showed a figure wrapped in me, her arms raised, her head tilted back like she was screaming or praying or both.


    And beneath her feet-


    Three sigils.


    Two of them I recognized immediately. I’d seen them etched into scrolls, whispered by schrs<b>, </b>burned into memory through fire and blood. One bore the rune Kael had carved into his chest. The second was older–something Bastain had once called the “Anchor of me.” But the third…


    The third was nk.


    It was worse than seeing something dangerous. It was absence. The kind of emptiness that waits. Watches,


    And even as I looked at it-


    Something changed.


    It started with a breath. A flicker across my vision, so brief I might’ve missed it if the air hadn’t shifted too. Cold, then hot. Still, then charged.


    A pulse.


    A beat that didn’t belong to me. Or Max. Or even the ruined courtyard.


    It belonged to her.


    1 stepped forward, the air thinning around me, and felt my heart skip in my chest. Like it recognized what wasing.


    Beneath my boots, the nk stone stirred.


    Max stilled beside me, his hands clenched at his sides, lips parting in unspoken dread.


    And then-


    It began.


    Lines etched themselves into the stone. Not scratched. Not carved. Drawn. As though by invisible fire trailing across the surface in deliberate, reverent


    motion.


    One curve.


    Then another.


    Then the final stroke–the inward spiral I’d seen seared into my sister’s skin the night she had copsed, screaming my name, back arched in pain


    beneath violet me.


    “No,” I whispered. The word left my mouth broken.


    Max’s voice was tight, raw. “Ethan. It’s happening.”


    I reached for the hilt of my de, not to draw it, but to stop my hand from trembling. To anchor myself. Because what I was seeing–what we were witnessing–it wasn’t prophecy.


    It was a im.


    The stone wrote her name.


    Not in thenguage of men. Not in alphabet or title.


    In me.


    In essence.


    In truth.


    She wasn’t here. She wasn’t near. But it didn’t matter.


    Because the Gate had already chosen her.


    I felt my stomach twist, bile threatening to rise. The bond I shared with her–our twin–sense–rattled like a warning bell inside my bones. Every part of me screamed too soon, too fast, too much.


    “She doesn’t know,” I said, the words barely leaving my throat.


    Max shook his head, jaw locked. “Not fully. But I think <i>she </i>feels it.”


    The third sigil glowed brighter, the courtyard vibrating with something old, something alive. I could hear it now–a low hum, like a forgotten luby being sung beneath the earth. And then, high above us, the sky cracked open with sound–not thunder, but something deeper.


    Like the sky itself splintered,


    The sigil pulsed.


    Once.


    Twice.


    Then settled.


    And there, clear as breath, unmistakable-


    Thest sigil.


    No longer nk. No longer waiting.


    Hers.


    Jiselle.


    The third piece. The final link. The gate’s answer.


    Chosen.


    My knees almost buckled. I mped my jaw shut and turned away, unable to look at the light for a second longer.


    Because this wasn’t just about Kael anymore. Wasn’t about revenge, or prophecy, or bnce.


    It was about her.


    And what this Gate wanted to make of her.


    I clenched my fists, knuckles burning. “We have to go back.”


    Max didn’t answer right away. Just stood still, face shadowed by something I couldn’t name.


    Then–quietly, bitterly–he said, “We should’ve burned this ce when we had the chance.”


    We turned together.


    But even as we moved, I felt it.


    The hum hadn’t stopped.


    Because the sigil wasn’t just a marking.


    It was a summoning.


    And in the pit of my gut, something twisted again–tight, sharp<i>, </i>undeniable.


    Jiselle wasn’t being offered a choice.


    She was being called home.


    And this time, the Gate wasn’t <i>going </i>to wait for <i>her </i>to knock.


    <b><i>AD </i></b>


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