<b>Chapter 162 </b>
Jiselle<b>‘ </b>
The march didn’t begin with war drums. It began with silence.
Low fog clung to the edges of the valley like breath held too long, and every footstep felt heavier than it should’ve. We didn’t speak much as we moved. The air was too dense, too expectant, like thend itself knew what waited ahead. And maybe it did.
By nightfall, we reached what used to be the outer vige. Once, it had housed the Academy’s workers–the cooks, the cksmiths, the quiet women who harvested herbs from the cliffs. Now it was hollowed out, still upright but abandoned, left to rot in a world that didn’t remember it. Or pretended <b>not </b><ol><li><b>to</b><b>. </b></li></ol>
I stepped through the remnants of a gate half–swallowed by ivy. The hinges groaned, not from rust but from memory, and I swallowed the unease crawling up my spine. The others followed behind me. Nate at my right shoulder. Eva and Ethan a few paces back. Bastain nked the rear<b>, </b><b>always </b>watching, always listening.
We set camp near a dry well in the center of the vige. The stones around it were warm–too warm for nightfall. Eva crouched beside it, fingers brushing over the moss–coated edge.
“This ce is wrong,” she whispered.
I knew what she meant. The leyline was here, but not in its usual rhythm. It pulsed unevenly–like a heart skipping beats. I could feel it, thrumming through the soles of my feet like the earth was trying to whisper something too old fornguage.
I took the first watch. Nate offered, but I refused. I needed space. Not from him, exactly. Just… from everything. The world inside me hadn’t stopped shifting since the mark reformed, since Max left, since Eva’s prophecy painted the road ahead with blood.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about Max.
The way he looked at me before he left. Not with desperation. Not even with regret. Just eptance. He hadn’t asked for forgiveness, but I’d given it anyway, because I couldn’t carry the weight anymore. And now, every step I took into this valley felt like walking through echoes of people I’d loved and lost in pieces.
The wind picked up, brushing through the broken windows like breath. I stood near one of the old shrines–its roof copsed, but the frame still bore the sigil of the Academy, weathered and cracked. I traced it with my fingers.
“I thought this ce would feel like home again,” I murmured.
Nate’s voice came from behind me, quiet. “Does it<b>?</b><b>” </b>
“No,” I said. “It feels like memory. But not mine. Like I’m walking through someone else’s ghosts.”
He didn’t argue. He just stepped up beside me and offered his hand. I didn’t take it. Not because I didn’t want to–but because I was af fall apart.
Eva’s scream ripped through the night.
at if I did, I’d
We ran.
By the time we reached her<b>, </b>Ethan was already at her side, holding her down gently as she thrashed in her sleeproll. Her eyes were open. Seeing<b>–</b><b>but </b>
not.
“Eva-” I dropped to my knees, grabbing her hand. “Hey. Hey, look <b>at </b>me. Come back.”
<b>She </b>gasped and arched off the ground. “Not me… steel. <b>A </b>de she knows. A brother’s scream. A fall too fast-”
“Shh.” I pressed her hand to my chest. “You’re not there. You’re here. You’re safe<b>.</b><b>” </b>
<b>1/4 </b>
Chapter <b>162 </b>
Her body bucked again<b>, </b>and then stilled. The silence that followed was deafening. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Eva blinked. Slowly. Her lips parted. “It’s inside the stones,” she whispered. “It’s not waiting anymore.”
Bastain arrived then, his cloak streaked with ash from the fire. He knelt beside her, pulling a relic from beneath his shirt a small, orb–<b>shaped </b><b>charm </b>bound in braided silver. He pressed it to her forehead. “This will anchor her,” he said. “Her visions… they’re not just warnings. They’re countdowns.”
I felt the weight of those words settle in my chest.
I rose to my feet, needing air. Needing something. Anything. The vige felt tighter now, like the walls themselves were inching closer. I stumbled toward one of the cottages, its door barely hanging on its hinges. The moment I crossed the threshold, the air shifted.
My me red beneath my skin. Not in defense. In recognition.
I paused.
A single scroll was pinned to the inside of the door.
Burned around the edges. Still warm.
I stepped closer, heart hammering.
The words were charred but legible:
She walks. The–walls listen. You arete.
Beneath it: Jiselle.
Written in mirrored runes.
My stomach twisted.
“Nate,” I called, my voice cracking.
He appeared almost instantly, sword in hand. “What?”
I pointed to the scroll. He read it, jaw tightening.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “This vige–it’s not abandoned. It’s… marked.”
“No,” I whispered. “It’s remembered.”
We left the cottage in silence.
Back at camp, Eva sat propped against a log, breathing shallow but aware. Her eyes tracked me as I approached. “It’s not Kael alone,” she said softly. “Not anymore. The Gate–it’s not pulling from one ce. It’s everywhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s in the stones,” she repeated. “In the ground. In the blood. Someone inside the Academy has already opened <b>it </b>partway. <b>It’s </b>echoing through everything now.”
Before I could respond, thunder cracked–loud, sharp, close.
But there were no clouds.
Just Nate.
Holding something <b>in </b>his hand.
<b>A </b>crackedpass.
He held it up. “It’s not pointing north anymore.”
<b>I </b>stared. “Then what-”
“It’s pointing toward you.”
A beat.
Then the ground shivered beneath our feet. Not violently. Not
But like something turning over in its sleep.
Something waking.
I looked down.
like
And realized the stones we’d made camp on weren’t just stone.
They were carved. Ancient. Covered in the same mirrored runes as the scroll. Just faint enough that we hadn’t noticed in daylight.
But now–beneath the twilight–they glowed.
Soft. Violet.
Familiar.
The Gate had been here before.
And it had left its breath behind.
I backed away.
Nate caught me before I could fall.
“I’m not ready,” I whispered.
He cupped my face. “You don’t have to be. Just don’t run.”
I didn’t.
I stood.
faced it.
Because we had no choice<b>. </b>
And I’d rather meet the end on my feet.
Still, as the others gathered behind me, as Ethan helped Eva to her feet, as Bastain pressed his hand to the stone and murmured something in <b>a </bnguage.
I didn’t know-
I felt it again.
That pulse.
The one not of me.
<b>09:59 </b><b>Sun</b>, <b>15 </b>JUN
But of watching.
The Gate wasn’t sleeping.
It never had been.
It was just waiting.
And now, it had seen me.
C