<b>Chapter </b><b>167 </b>
Jiselle
The tunnels beneath the Academy had always been sealed to students. Whispered about, Feared. Marked with ancient sigils none of us had ever dared touch. But now those sigils were cracked open–burned from within, not broken from outside. Whatever had once been meant to keep things in had
failed.
We moved in silence.
The air was thick, like something dead had tried to exhale and gotten stuck. Violet light flickered down the stone walls from the leyline slivers <b>that </b><b>pulsed </b>through the ceiling cracks–just enough to see the corridor ahead, but not enough to feel safe.
Nate walked just ahead of me.
His shoulders tense. His steps careful but fast, as if he were trying to outpace a feeling he couldn’t name. I could feel his protectiveness like a second pulse–anchoring me, surrounding me, pulling me back from the edge whenever my thoughts strayed too far into what–ifs.
“You’re gripping the me too tight,” he murmured, not turning around.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“No, you’re not,” he answered gently. “I can feel the heat rising. Slow it down<b>, </b>Jis. Just… stay here with me.”
His voice worked better than my own breath.
I let the fire settle, just slightly. Let it curl back beneath my skin like a creature returning to sleep. But the ache didn’t leave. The warning didn’t fade. Every inch of this ce reeked of old power–and something else. Something twisted.
Behind us, Ethan kept pace, nked by Max and Bastain. Eva moved just behind me, her steps uneven. She hadn’t spoken much since the vision. But I could feel her fear pressing against mine. We were running out of time, and whatever storm wasing–it had teeth.
We turned the final bend.
And then we saw it.
A chamber so wide the walls dissolved into shadow<i>. </i>The stone beneath our feet turned ck<b>–</b>scorched from ancient fire. And in the center… the remains of a throne.
Not gold.
Not marble.
Stone.
Carved into the earth itself, rising like a spine from the floor. It had been cracked down the center. Shattered. But not forgotten.
I stepped forward.
Something groaned beneath my boots. Not stone. Not magic. Something deeper. Like a memory waking.
Nate grabbed my wrist, stopping me just before reached the base of the throne.
“Wait,” he whispered.
I opened my mouth to argue–then heard it too.
Scraping.
<b>Chapter </b>167
<b>Shuffling </b>
<b>Not </b>footsteps. <b>Not </b>quite.
<b>From </b>the far end of the room, something moved.
<b>The </b>torchlight didn’t catch it fully at first–just a glint of bone. A shimmer of tattered robes. And then it stepped into view.
Or rather–stumbled.
A woll.
But wrong.
Twisted<b>. </b>
Fur melted into scorched armor. Eyes hollow. The scent of veilfire clung to its skin like decay.
One of the Gatekeepers.
Or what was left of one.
“They’re still here,” Bastain murmured, voice barely audible. “Trapped. imed.”
The creature raised its head and hissed.
Nate moved faster than thought–stepping in front of me, de already drawn. The heat of his presence blocked the worst of the scent, and I realized then that it wasn’t death I was smelling.
It was transformation.
Burned into submission. Reborn without soul.
Another one emerged behind the first.
Then another.
Three. Then five. All of them bearing the same sigils burned into their chests–one for <b>the </b>Gatekeepers. One for the Academy.
“They fused them,” Eva breathed. “Fused the orders.”
“More like desecrated them,” Ethan growled.
The creatures didn’t attack<i>. </i>
Not yet.
They just stood there. Watching.
Waiting.
For what, I wasn’t sure.
But I knew this: they were guarding something
Or someone.
I moved forward again, slower this time, ignoring the heat gathering at the base of my spine. My scar burned. The <b>rune </b>on <b>my </b><b>back </b>pulsed<b>. </b><b>And </b><b>beneath </b><b>it</b><b>, </b>something else stirred–like a thread tugging through my ribs.
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<b>Chapter </b><b>167 </b>
The <b>throne</b><b>. </b>
<b>It </b><b>wasn’t </b><b>just </b>stone.
It was a seal.
<b>A </b>lock.
<b>“</b>Nate,” <b>I </b>said, my voice hoarse. “They were using this ce. Feeding the Gate from the inside.”
He came to stand beside me, hand brushing
<b>“</b>I don’t know if we can.”
<b>“</b>Then we stop it. Whatever’s left–we end it.”
<b>“</b>We can.”
<b>I </b>turned to face him.
His jaw was tight. His eyes dark with fire and promise.
<b>“</b>You don’t know that,” I whispered.
“I know you,” he said. “And I know what we’ve survived. What we’ve lost. If we fall <b>now</b><b>, </b>it won’t be because we were weak. It’ll be because we gave everything.”
I swallowed. “And if that’s not enough?<b>” </b>
He cupped my cheek. “Then we make it enough.”
My breath trembled.
I nodded once.
And we turned together.
The throne loomed ahead, and beyond it–an altar. Cracked. Blood–stained. Covered in markings <b>I </b>couldn’t decipher. The leyline split beneath it, forming a jagged cross through the floor.
“They were trying to recreate the triad,<i>” </i>Bastain said. “But this isn’t
power<b>. </b>It’s madness.”
“We’re not the only ones who knew what the Gate needed,” Eva whispered. “Kael knew. Whoever turned on the Gatekeepers knew. This wasn’t about summoning.”
I looked at her. “Then what?”
She met my eyes.
“Bing.”
The wordnded heavy.
Behind us, the creatures hissed again.
Then one stepped forward.
Not <b>to </b>attack.
”
To kneel.
<b>Chapter </b><b>167 </b>
<b>My </b><b>blood </b><b>went </b><b>cold</b>.
<b>One </b><b>by </b><b>one</b><b>, </b>they lowered themselves <b>to </b>the <b>floor</b>–bodies bent, heads bowed, ws scraping against stone<b>. </b>
<b>“</b><b>They’re </b>not just guards,” Max sold. “They’re vessels<b>.</b><b>” </b>
“For <b>what</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
No one answered.
Because suddenly–
The throne pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
And my rune zed so hot I cried out.
Nate caught me, arms around my waist, grounding me before I fell.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered fiercely.
“I need to touch it,” I said. “The throne.”
“No-”
“I have to.”
“Jiselle-”
But I was already moving.
Step by step.
Toward the stone.
Toward the heart of this ce.
The creatures didn’t stop me.
They watched.
They waited.
And when I reached the base of the throne, I pressed my palm to <b>it</b>.
Fire.
Not pain.
Recognition.
<b>A </b>thread of memory–old and pulsing–shot through my hand, through my chest, through the bond.
I saw her.
Serina.
Not young.
Not dead.
Burning.
I saw her blood smeared across this very stone.
Her me branding the seal.
Her voice whispering one final promise:
“If the Gate opens again, it must be sealed with willing me.”
I gasped.
And the light exploded.
It didn’t blind.
It revealed.
Carvings spread across the chamber walls–hidden before, now ignited by violet fire. Sigils. Names. Warnings. Promises.
And onemand:
“Choose.”
The throne cracked again.
And beneath it-
Steps.
Leading down.
Nate was beside me in an instant.
“I’m going with you,” he said.
“I wasn’t going to ask,” I replied.
We descended together.
The others followed.
And as we reached the bottom-
We saw it.
A door.
ck and smooth and unmarked.
But I knew it was the Gate.
The true one.
And it was breathing.
<b>Chapter </b><b>167 </b>
<b>Slow</b>.
Heavy<b>. </b>
Expectant.
Max stepped forward. “We’re not ready for this.”
“We don’t have time to be ready,” I said. “We go in. We end this.”
<b>“</b>Then let me lead,” he said. “Just in case.”
I nodded.
But as we stepped closer-
A voice echoed from the dark.
“You’re toote.”
We froze.
And from the shadows-
Kael emerged.
His body marked with me.
His eyes-
Not his own<b>. </b>
1
They shimmered with the same light that pulsed beneath the Gate.
“You can’t stop what’s already been chosen,<i>” </i>he said. “You only get to decide how it ends.”