<b>Chapter </b>160
<b>Chapter </b><b>160 </b>
Jiselle
Eva didn’t move.
Not at first.
She stood frozen in the mouth of our tent, her lips parted, her eyes locked on something none of us could see. Her voice–already hoarse–had <b><i>dropped </i></b>to a whisper, the kind that clung to your ribs long after it faded.
“Blood,” she had said. “So much blood.”
Then she crumpled.
I caught her before she hit the floor, arms wrapping around her frame, which felt far too light. Far too breakable. She shivered against me<b>, </b>breath stuttering, her skin mmy as if something cold had torn through her and refused to let go.
“Eva-“I shook her gently. “Eva, what did you see?”
Her mouth opened.
But no sound came.
Nate was beside us in an instant, his arm curling around my back, grounding me as much as her. Bastain burst through the p a heartbeatter<b>, </b>cloak half–thrown over his shoulders, already reaching for the satchel at his hip.
“She’s in a full re,” he muttered. “The vision’s still unraveling.”
“She said blood,” I whispered. “What does that mean?”
Bastain didn’t answer. He dropped to his knees beside us and pulled out a small, ss orb etched with golden sigils<b>–</b>Sentinel–made. He ced it against her palm.
“Eva,” he said softly, firmly. “This is the anchor. Feel it. Breathe with it. Pull back.”
Hershes fluttered. Her lips twitched.
Then-
“Not me,<i>” </i>she rasped. “Steel. A de she knows. A brother’s scream. A fall too fast-”
My stomach twisted.
“What brother?” I asked. “What scream?”
Eva gasped, convulsing once. Then she stilled again, eyes fluttering shut.
“I can’t see it all,” she choked. “It’s not future. It’s now. It’s moving.”
“Her visions,” Bastain said tightly, “aren’t predictions. They’re proximity–based. The closer the event, the more the gift locks her in it. This <b>isn’t </b><b>a </b><b>warning </b>-it’s <b>a </b>countdown.”
The words hit like a hammer.
I could feel my me rise, not in rage, but in panic. It coiled through my limbs, aching to escape. The bond mark <b>on </b><b>my </b><b>shoulder </b><b>pulsed </b><b>with </b>heat, <b>and </b>
breath caught. The mating had stabilized me. And yet now, it felt like something deeper had awakened.
my
<b>Chapter </b><b>160 </b>
<b>Nate </b>stepped in <b>front </b><b>of </b>me and cupped my face. “Look at me.”
I tried<b>. </b>
My vision blurred.
<b>“</b>Jiselle.”
I met his eyes.
Steady. Strong. Unshaken.
His thumbs brushed beneath my cheekbones. “You’re okay. You’re here. Just breathe.”
I did. Once. Twice.
And the me… listened.
It curled inward. Settled. For now.
“I think,” he said gently, “whatever happened during the bond–it changed more than just us. The leyline’s reacting to you. Like it’s not just under your feet anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s in you. And it’s listening.”
I pressed a trembling hand to my chest.
The rune burned faintly beneath my skin.
Violet. Alive.
“I don’t know how to hold all of this,” I whispered. “Eva’s vision, the Gate, Kael…”
“You don’t have to hold it alone.”
His words wrapped around me like an oath.
Before I could speak again, the tent p ripped open with a gust of wind and ash.
Max.
His jaw was tight, eyes shadowed, streaks of dirt and old blood lining his arms. “We’ve got a problem.”
I straightened, every nerve alert. “What kind of problem?”
He stepped inside and dropped a scroll onto the table. The wax seal bore the Gatekeeper’s empty–circle insignia–but <b>it </b>was cracked straight through the
center.
“Rogue faction,” he said. “Split off from theirmand. We intercepted this near the western border. They’re marching. Fast.”
<b>“</b>Toward us?” Bastain asked.
Max shook his head once.
“Toward the Academy.”
My heart seized.
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<b>Chapter </b>160
<b>“</b><b>They </b>know where I was trained. Where I bled. Where I broke. <b>They’re </b>after <b>more </b>than me now they’re after <b>origin</b>.
<b>Nate </b>stepped forward, fists clenched. “How long until they reach it<b>?</b><b>” </b>
“Maybe two days. Three if they don’t portal.”
Bastain’s expression darkened. “And if they open the Gate before we reach it?”
<b>“</b>They can’t,” Max said. “Not yet. Not without her.”
Me.
I was the lock.
The key.
The damn doorframe.
I moved to Eva, brushing her hair from her damp brow. “She said betrayal. Steel. A brother’s scream…”
Nate’s breath caught.
Ethan.
He wasn’t in the camp.
He and a few others had gone ahead that morning to patrol the northern ridge. Alone.
Max met my gaze. “I’ll send scouts.”
But before he could move, a horn blew.
Short.
Sharp.
Pained.
We bolted from the tent, Bastain and Nate at my sides, Max already racing toward the western outpost.
The guard post was a mess of ash and frost.
And at its center-
One of our sentries.
Down.
Dead.
A de jammed through his chest, buried to the hilt.
I stopped cold.
The metal shimmered in the dusk light, heat radiating from it in waves. Etched into the handle was a symbol I <b>hadn’t </b><b>seen </b><b>since </b><b>the </b><b>day </b><b>I </b><b>filed </b><b>the </b>Academy after Eden’s death.
The High Council’s sigil.
<b>Chapter </b><b>160 </b>
<b>A </b><b>sun </b><b>split </b><b>by </b><b>shadow</b><b>. </b>
Bastain knelt beside <b>it</b>, face pale.
“<b>This</b>… this shouldn’t exist anymore.”
Max didn’t speak.
He didn’t have to.
Because we all knew what it meant.
This wasn’t just a war with Kael.
This wasn’t just Gatekeepers turning on their own.
This was betrayal from within.
And the Academy—thest ce I’d once called home–was no longer a sanctuary.
It was a battlefield waiting to be lit.
That night, I stood at the edge of the leyline, my arms folded tight across my chest.
O
The sky pulsed overhead with a strange kind of quiet–like the stars knew what wasing.
Nate joined me, his steps silent but sure.
“I thought we had more time,” I murmured.
“So did I.”
The silence between us was heavy but not empty. It held everything we didn’t say. Everything we’d lost. Everything we still might lose.
I turned to him. “If I fall…”
“You won’t.”
“If I do,” I said, firmer, “promise me you won’t burn the world trying to follow.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then stepped closer.
“No,” he said softly. “But I’ll burn with you. Every time.”
We didn’t kiss.
We didn’t need to.
Because we already knew-
The war had begun.
And this time, it wouldn’t wait.
<b>Chapter </b>161