<b>Chapter </b>169
<b>Chapter </b><b>169 </b>
<b>*</b><b>Jiselle </b>
The storm had quieted but only on the surface. Beneath the silence of the crumbling academy walls, the air vibrated like a held breath. Like the mon
itself was waiting for somet
We moved through the inner vault corridors with quiet urgency, Eva leading us by instinct more than sight. Her me flickered in a way <b>I’d </b>never seen before–thin and trembling, like a thread being pulled too tight.
I nced at Nate beside me. His hand never left the small of my back, fingers grazing just enough to steady me, just enough to remind the room i was not alone. His body remained between mine and any potential breach, even now, even here when we didn’t know what waited ahead.
“Eva,” Bastain called softly. “Where’s the
Her eyes fluttered. “Down. Always down.”
pull
taking you?”
It wasn’t long before we reached the ritual chamber–old stones circled in half–buried runes, shattered remnants of a sigil that looked carved into <b>the </b>bone of the world. Nate’s jaw tensed the moment we stepped inside. I felt it too.
This ce remembered magic.
And blood.
The Gate pulsed beneath our feet.
“I don’t like this,” Ethan muttered<b>, </b>one hand crackling faintly with his elemental gift.
“Neither do 1,” I whispered, then turned to Eva. “Is this where the vision ends?<b>” </b>
She didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t breathing right.
Her shoulders hunched in on themselves, her arms folding across her middle as if her own body had turned against <b>her</b>. Her knees buckled, and I was at her side before she hit the floor.
“Eva!” I dropped beside her, catching her weight.
Her eyes were wide–too wide–andpletely zed.
“Something’s wrong,” I said quickly. “Something’s happening.”
“She’s slipping into it again,” Bastain murmured grimly, crouching beside me. “But this isn’t like before. Her gift is… anchoring.”
A momentter, Eva screamed.
It wasn’t loud<b>. </b>
It was raw.
Like the world tore through her throat and dragged itself out in pieces. Her hands wed at her skin, her feet kicked against stone, an without sound until the words finally came.
“Blood. Blood–he’s bleeding–Ethan–Ethan!”
I snapped my head toward my twin.
<b>nouth </b><b>moved </b>
<b>Chapter </b><b>169 </b>
Ethan <b>froze</b>, <b>every </b><b>inch </b><b>of </b><b>his </b>body locked in ce,
<b>“</b><b>I’m </b>right here,” he said quietly. “I’m right
“It’s not now!” <b>Eva </b>sobbed. “It’sing! The Gate doesn’t want you it wants her, but if take you first
Rastain grabbed her wrists gently, muttering grounding spells under his breath, trying to center her focus.
Nate moved behind me, hands on my shoulders now, keeping me upright. “Your me,” he whispered, “It’s reacting”
And it was.
Violet light coiled through <i>my </i>
like veins made of fire. It didn’tsh out–but it yearned. Pulled, Stirred with Eva’s panic and Ethan’s stunned silence
“I can calm it,” I whispered. “I think I can calm her.”
Nate nodded. “Then do it. I’ve got you.”
I pressed both hands to Eva’s cheeks, ignoring the heat crawling through my palms. “You’re here,” I whispered. “With me. Come back to me
Her pupils dted, fluttered–then focused.
“Jiselle,” she croaked.
“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m always here.”
The me receded–just a little.
Bastain lowered her hands gently, letting her sit back on her knees. Eva was panting, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“It’s not just Kael,” she murmured. “Someone else is summoning the Gate. From here. From inside.”
A silence fell.
One that rang.
“One of them?” Ethan asked. “A Gatekeeper?”
Eva shook her head. “No. Someone who doesn’t need to serve it. Someone who believes they are it.”
She looked at me. “The stones are listening now<b>, </b>Jis. Every wall. Every floor. The Gate isn’t just waking–it’s anchoring. It’s using your name to breathe<b>.</b><b>” </b>
My stomach turned.
Bastain stood, face pale.
“Can we stop it?” I asked.
He moved toward the sigil–stained floor. “I can try to close the threads. If I sever the weave…”
He didn’t finish the sentence,
Instead, he knelt, pulled a de from his satchel, and traced an old rune into the dirt–one I’d only seen once before.
My breath caught like a thorn in my chest.
The sound of stone grinding against stone rang louder than it should’ve–like the chamber itself was mourning what it had just <b>swallowed</b><b>. </b><b>I </b>stood <b>frozen</b>, fingers still locked in Nate’s, heart beating far too loud for a space so suddenly silent,
“No,” I whispered.
The word wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
Because when I turned–when I looked behind me—there was nothing but the cold curve of the sealed wall. No gap. No sound. No Max.
The fire in my chest surged once, then fell eerily still.
“Where is he?” I asked again, voice rising. “Where’s Max?”
Ethan’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes were fixed on the wall. Fixed on the ce where Max had stood just moments before.
Eva crumpled to her knees, her breath shuddering as if the vision still clung to her ribs. Bastain stumbled back from the brokert seat, sweat lining his temples. “He was right there,” he rasped. “I didn’t see him move. I didn’t see-”
I dropped Nate’s hand.
And I ran to the wall.
The stone was still hot. Still thrumming. Still humming with whatever magic had sealed it shut. I pounded my palm against it anyway, me rising with every beat of my fist.
“Open it!” I shouted. “We have to get him out–Bastain, do something!”
“I can’t!” he snapped, voice cracking with guilt. “It wasn’t me who closed it! That wasn’t a barrier–it was a trigger. A ward turned burial site.”
My knees hit the floor.
The heat of the stone pressed into my palms, into my knees, into the hollowed–out ache behind my ribs. It didn’t feel like rejection. It didn’t even feel like punishment.
It felt like a decision.
The chamber had decided.
And Max had been the cost.
Nate was suddenly beside me, his arms curling around my shoulders as I shook.
“He could still be alive,” I whispered, but it didn’t sound like a sentence. It sounded like a prayer. A breath being bartered with <b>a </b>god I didn’t believe in.
“He’s strong,” Nate said. “And he wouldn’t fall easy.”
“But he wasn’t supposed to fall at all.”
Ethan crouched nearby, expression unreadable. “We don’t know anything for sure. The Gate… it ys tricks with time. With space. That chamber could be holding him. Or it could be showing us only what it wants.”
“But why?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Why him?”
No one answered.
Because maybe there wasn’t one.
Or maybe none of us were ready to say it aloud.
That he’d stepped too close.
That he’d stayed a second too long.
Varra stepped forward, me bowed. “I will stand with you–not by force, but by promise”
Nate looked at me, eyes shining with hurt and hope.
The Gate hummed.
The runes pulsed.
And in that crystalline moment, I knew the choicey in the empty space between us.
me trailed from my fingertips.
The Gate leaned toward my me.
But I didn’t move.
I whispered:
This is my name.
And in that heartbeat-
<b>Chapter </b><b>169 </b>
* Jiselle*
The storm had quieted—but only on the surface. Beneath the silence of the crumbling akademy walls, the air vibrated like a Held breath. Like the world itself was waiting for eahing to crack.
We moved through the inner vault corridors with quiet urgency, Eva leading us by instinct more than sight. Her me flickered in a way I’d never seen before–thin and trembling, like a thread being pulled too tight.
I nced at Nate beside me. His hand never left the small of my back, fingers grazing just enough to steady me, just enough to remind the room I was not alone. His body remained between mine and any potential breach, even now, even here when we didn’t know what waited ahead.
“Eva,” Bastain called softly. “Where’s the pull taking you?”
Her eyes fluttered. “Down. Always down.”
It wasn’t long before we reached the ritual chamber–old stones circled in half–buried runes, shattered remnants of a sigil that looked carved into the bone of the world. Nate’s jaw tensed the moment we stepped inside. I felt it <i>too</i>.
This ce remembered magic.
And blood.
The Gate pulsed beneath our feet.
“I don’t like this,” Ethan muttered, one hand crackling faintly with his elemental gift.
“Neither do 1,” I whispered, then turned to Eva. “Is this where the vision ends?<b>” </b>
She didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t breathing right.
Her shoulders hunched in on themselves, her arms folding across her middle as if her own body had turned against her. Her knees buckled, and I was at her side before she hit the floor.
“Eva!” I dropped beside her, catching her weight.
Her eyes were wide–too wide–andpletely zed.
“Something’s wrong,” I said quickly. “Something’s happening.”
“She’s slipping into it again<i>,</i>” Bastain murmured grimly, crouching beside me. “But this isn’t like before. Her gift is… anchoring.”
A momentter, Eva screamed.
It wasn’t loud.
<b>it </b>was raw.
Like the world tore through her throat and dragged itself out in pieces. Her hands wed at <i>her </i>skin, her feet kicked against stone, and her <b>mouth moved </b>without sound until the words finally came.
“Blood. <i>Blood</i>—he’s bleeding–Ethan–Ethan!”
I snapped my head toward my twin.
Chapter <b>169 </b>
<b>Ethan </b>trore, every lich of his body locked in ce.
“I’m right here,” he said quielly. “I’m right
“It’s not now!” Eva sobbed “It’sing The Gats doesn’t want you -it wants her, but it it take you there
Rastain grabbed her wrists gently, futtering grounding spells under the breath, trying to center Ner focus.
Nate moved behind me, hands on my shoulders now, keeping me upright. “Your ma,” he whispered. “It’s reacting.”
And it was.
Violet light coiled through my skin like veins made of fire. It didn’t tash out–but it yearned. Pulled Stirred with Eva’s panic and Ethan’s gunned silenes
“I can calm it,” I whispered. “I think I can calm her.”
Nate nodded. “Then do it. I’ve got you.”
I pressed both hands to Eva’s cheeks, ignoring the heat crawling through my palms. “You’re here,” I whispered “With me. Come back to m
Her pupils dted, fluttered–then focused.
“Jiselle,” she croaked.
“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m always here.”
The me receded–just <b>a </b>little.
Bastain lowered her hands gently, letting her sit back on her knees. Eva was panting, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“It’s not just Kael,” she murmured. “Someone else is summoning the Gate. From here. From inside.”
A silence fell.
One that rang.
“One of them?” Ethan asked. “A Gatekeeper?”
Eva shook her head. “No. Someone who doesn’t need to serve it. Someone who believes they are it.”
She looked at me. “The stones are listening now, Jis. Every wall. Every floor. The Gate isn’t just waking–it’s anchoring. It’s using your name to breathe.”
My stomach turned.
Bastain stood, face pale.
“Can we stop it?” I asked.
He moved toward the sigil–stained floor. “I can try to close the threads. If I sever the weave…”
He didn’t finish the sentence,
Instead, he knelt, pulled a de from his satchel, and traced an old rune into the dirt–one I’d only seen once before.
My breath caught like a thorn in my chest.
The sound of stone grinding against stone rang louder than it should’ve–like the chamber itself was mourning what it had just swallowed. I <b>stood </b><b>frozen</b>, fingers still locked in Nate’s, heart beating far too loud for a space so suddenly silent.
<b>Chapter </b><b>169 </b>
“<b>No</b><b>,</b><b>” </b>I whispered.
The word wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
Because when I turned–when’t looked behind me there was nothing but the cold curve of the sealed wall. No gap. No sound. No Max<b><i>. </i></b>
The fire in my chest surged once, then fell eerily still.
“Where is he?” I asked again, voice rising. “Where’s Max?”
Ethan’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes were fixed on the wall. Fixed on the ce where Max had stood just moments before.
Eva crumpled to her knees, her breath shuddering as if the vision still clung to her ribs. Bastain stumbled temples. “He was right there,” he rasped. “I didn’t see him move. I didn’t see
back from the broken seal, sweat lining his
I dropped Nate’s hand.
And I ran to the wall.
The stone was still hot. Still thrumming. Still humming with whatever magic had sealed <b>it </b>shut. <b>I </b>pounded my palm against it anyway, me rising with every beat of my fist.
“Open it!” I shouted. “We have to get him out–Bastain, do something!”
“I can’t!” he snapped, voice cracking with guilt. <b>“</b>It wasn’t me who closed <b>it! </b>That wasn’t <b>a </b>barrier–it was <b>a </b>trigger. A ward turned burial site.”
My knees hit the floor.
The heat of the stone pressed into my palms, into my knees, into the hollowed–out ache behind my ribs. It didn’t feel like rejection. It didn’t even feel <b>like </b>punishment.
It felt like <b>a </b>decision.
The chamber had decided.
And Max had been the cost.
Nate was suddenly beside me, his arms curling around my shoulders as I shook.
“He could still be alive,” I whispered, but it didn’t sound like a sentence. It sounded like a prayer. A breath being bartered with <b>a </b>god I didn’t believe in.
“He’s strong,” Nate said. “And he wouldn’t fall easy.”
“But he wasn’t supposed to fall at all.”
Ethan crouched nearby, expression unreadable. “We don’t know anything for sure. The Gate… it ys tricks with time. With space. That chamber could be holding him. Or it could be showing us only what it wants.”
“But why?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Why him?”
No one answered.
Because maybe there wasn’t one.
Or maybe none of us were ready <b>to </b>say it aloud.
That he’d stepped too close.
That he’d stayed a second too long.
<b>215 </b>
09:10 FT 20 JJUR.
<b>Chapter </b><b>169 </b>
That maybe just maybe <b>he’d </b>meant to.
<b>My </b><b>eyes </b>stung.
<b>Not </b>with smoke.
With memory..
The sound of his voice telling me he’d stand between me and the me.
Whether it killed him or not.
I didn’t even notice the tremble in my hands until Nate took one of them in his and pressed it to his chest.
“He made a choice,” he said softly. “The same one we keep making, over and over again.”
“But I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I said.
And that–that was the part that shattered me.
I curled into Nate, not out of romance or even love, but out of need. Out of disbelief. Out of the weight of everything we’d carried and everyone we’d lost and how fast it was all falling apart.
Eva, still shaking, lifted her head.
“There’s more,” she said.
We all looked at her.
Her eyes were ssy. Haunted.
“The vision didn’t stop with the fire.”
Bastain moved to her side. “What did you see?”
She looked straight at me.
“You.”
The room went still again.
Eva’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Your me wasn’t burning anymore. It was… swallowing. Everything.”
<b>I </b>froze.
“You were standing <b>at </b>the edge of the courtyard,<i>” </i>she said. “The stones beneath you were cracked, and the Gate–Jiselle, the Gate was open. And you weren’t fighting it. You were part of it.”
The silence after her words was <b>a </b>void.
<b>I </b>couldn’t breathe.
I didn’t know if I wanted to.
Bastain turned to me slowly. “We have to leave. Now. Before the Gatepletes the tether.”
“The tether’s alreadyplete,” Eva said softly. “She just hasn’t stepped through it yet.<b>” </b>
<b>09:10 </b><b>Fri</b><b>, </b><b>20 </b><b>Jun </b>
“No,” Nate said, his voice calm but low and steady. “She won’t. Because she’s not going anywhere near it alone.”
His arms tightened around me. Not in fear.
In promise.
And in that moment, I clung to him not because I didn’t believe Eva.
But because I did.
Because every word she said felt like a thread of truth pulling itself tight beneath my skin.
Something had changed.
Something was changing still.
And this war-
It wasn’t about stopping the Gate anymore.
It was about choosing whether to be it.
The chamber might’ve sealed.
But the path?
The path was just beginning to open.
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The Gate answered.