<b>Chapter </b><b>163 </b>


    *Jiselle‘


    The snow had stopped falling, but the silence it left behind felt louder than any storm. Ash still clung to the branches like a warning not yet spoken. <b>Our </b>camp sat uneasy beneath the cold canopy, every flicker of me casting nervous shadows on the canvas of our world. But it wasn’t the cold that made me restless. It was something older.


    Something remembering.


    Bastain had gone quiet again after the scout’s update. No new messages. No new deaths. Just the kind of quiet that didn’t soothe–it prowled.


    I stood at the edge of the leyline ridge, violet me curled gently in my palm. I didn’t even call it anymore—it came on its own, answering a question! hadn’t meant to ask. My bond with Nate pulsed steady somewhere behind me, but I didn’t turn. I couldn’t. Not yet.


    Because there was something in the air.


    Something beneath it.


    And when I finally turned to leave, I wasn’t surprised to find Serina already waiting.


    She didn’t speak. She just nodded toward the trees, and I followed.


    The cave mouth we reached wasn’trge, but it bled heat like a slow wound. Serina walked ahead, her fingers trailing along the stone wall like it was familiar, sacred.


    “This ce wasn’t always closed,” she said atst. “It once opened directly to the Gate.”


    I swallowed. “Is it safe?”


    “No,” she said. “But it’s honest.”


    The air shimmered as we stepped inside, magic whispering across my skin like silkced with des. I felt each rune in the stone, each symbol carved into the walls. Some pulsed faintly when I passed. Others stayed dead.


    At the back of the chamber, a me burned inside a basin. Not mine. Not violet. Something older. Orange–gold, low and pulsing like a dying heartbeat.


    Serina turned. “You’ve asked what came before you. You’ve asked why the Gate calls your name. This me remembers.”


    I didn’t move. “You said the Gate isn’t watching Kael anymore. That it’s shifting.”


    She nodded. “Because it’s not just a prison. It’s a memory. And it’s starting to remember itself.”


    “And me?”


    She looked at me with something close to sorrow. “You are the first to ever survive this far. The others…” She trailed off. “They burned. Or were


    consumed.”


    “Others?” I asked, voice tightening.


    Serina turned back to the me and held out a small ss vial. Inside was ash. Pale, glimmering ash.


    “I told you I failed,” she whispered. “But I didn’t die.”


    I stared.


    “That was the lie they told to keep the story clean. To keep the prophecy unsmudged. But the truth is when the Gate rejected me, it didn’t kill me it fractured me. Split my essence. Half went into the veil… the other half survived.”


    I took a shaky step closer. “And that half… became me?”


    “You’re not a rebirth.” Serina said softly. “You’re a continuation. The Gate doesn’t start over it keeps weaving the same thread. Until it finally <b>pulls </b>light


    The me behind her red once. Then twice.


    I didn’t realize my me had answered until Serina looked down.


    My hand had lifted.


    Violet fire curled around my fingers, gentle but alive.


    “You’re remembering it too,” she whispered.


    “I don’t want to.”


    “Want has nothing to do with it.”


    When we emerged from the cave, the trees felt sharper. Leaner. Like something had been peeled back.


    The path back to camp wound in tense silence. But before we reached the ridge, I stopped.


    Serina didn’t.


    She disappeared into the shadows without a word.


    And I turned toward the leyline clearing where Nate stood, eyes already waiting.


    He held out a hand.


    I took it.


    And for a moment, just one, the world steadied.


    Later that night, I wandered again–my power unsettled, my body warm with residual me.


    I found Max sitting alone near the edge of camp, sharpening a de that looked older than both of us.


    He didn’t look up. “Couldn’t sleep either?”


    I sat beside him. “Not really.”


    Silence stretched, but not an ufortable one.


    Finally, he said, “When I marked you, I thought it was for protection.”


    I didn’t speak.


    He looked down. “But it was fear. Not love. Not even devotion. Just fear that if I didn’t act, I’d lose the only person who ever saw me as more than <b>just </b><b>a </b>weapon.”


    I closed my eyes.


    08.37 Mon, 16 Jun


    “I don’t need your forgiveness,” he said. “I just needed you to know I finally understand it.”


    I opened them again. “And what do you want now?”


    He sheathed the de. “To stand between you and what’sing. No strings. No expectation. Just that.”


    I turned to him. “You still love me.”


    He didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”


    “I can’t return it.”


    “I don’t need you to.”


    I reached out and squeezed his hand once. “Then let’s start there.”


    He smiled, brittle but real. “If I die in this, it’ll mean something. I’ll die on my own terms.”


    “No one’s dying.” I said.


    But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure I believed it.


    The tent was dim when I returned.


    Nate stood near the center, shirtless, running water through his hair from a basin.


    I stepped inside.


    He turned.


    No words.


    4978%會


    Just us.


    The way he looked at me–like the world had narrowed to a single point of gravity.


    I moved first.


    He met me halfway.


    The kiss wasn’t desperate. It was grounding. Deep. Slow. His hands gripped my waist, mine cupped his face. The bond between us hummed–not wild, not hungry. Just certain.


    I pulled back. “I want to finish it.”


    His brow furrowed. “Finish what?”


    I turned, pulling my shirt over my head, revealing the mark on my shoulder. “I want you to finish this. Not because we’re afraid. Because we choose it.”


    He stepped forward, voice low. “Are you sure?”


    I nodded. “Seal it with me. Completely. Not just power. Not just sex. The bond.”


    He traced his thumb over my corbone. “Then lie down.”


    And I did.


    <b>08:37 </b>Mon<b>, </b><b>16 </b><b>Jun </b>


    He took his time.


    Every kiss was deliberate. Every touch anchored.


    When he marked me again, I felt the shift like a heartbeat through the veil.


    The world didn’t spin.


    It stilled.


    And when we made love, it wasn’t a iming–it was a covenant.


    Not a branding.


    A belonging.


    His hands never left me.


    My breath never left him.


    The stars flickered outside the tent, but inside, we created our own constetion.


    When we copsed, skin damp, hearts thudding in sync, I felt it.


    The bond was whole.


    No longer broken.


    No longer hesitant.


    We were mated.


    Completely.


    And I didn’t regret it.


    Not a single second.


    We must’ve dozed.


    But we woke to the sound of footsteps and a rush of cold air.


    Eva burst in, face pale, eyes glowing faintly.


    Her voice shook.


    “I saw it,” she whispered.


    I sat up, Nate shielding me instinctively.


    Eva’s lips trembled.


    “Not fire,” she said. “Blood.”


    She met my eyes.


    “So much blood.”