<b>Chapter </b><b>172 </b>


    *Ethan‘


    I carried her.


    7


    <b>88</b><b>% </b>


    Jiselle’s arms were limp around my shoulders, her breath ragged and shallow against my neck. The echo of Max’sst words rang in my mind like a wound that refused to heal. She’d fallen as I lifted her from the ashes of the shattered courtyard, debris crackling beneath our feet–stone and me recessed, leaving only grief. I stayed silent, a mute offering of strength, feeling her weight settle into me as squarely as the guilt that burned hotter than any me we’d carried.


    The rest of them followed: Nate at my side, face mottled with ash and tears; Eva cradling Bastain’s arm; Bastain himself, his voice gruff but steady as he directed the path through twisting corridors toward the lower chambers of the Academy. We moved like ghosts bearing a body, like a ragged pack trailing a wound–but each of us carried something heavier on our souls.


    Inside the chamber, the stone walls were familiar: flickeringnterns, broken tables, the scent of old parchment and effort. Soldiers milled in silence, cleaning weapons and murmuring pledges of fight. I carried Jiselle to a makeshift cot andid her gently, smoothing her sweat–damp hair from her face. Her violet rune thrummed softly beneath her skin–a heartbeat I would protect with my own, or die trying


    No one spoke. Silence was sacred here.


    I took up watch. I sat on the cot’s edge, one hand against her forehead, as tears I refused to shed welled in my chest. Max had died for her. Not as mate. Not for love, exactly. But because she’d mattered enough to him to draw her into that storm. He’d given everything–blood, life, promise. We all saw now what he understood toote: Jiselle was not only a sovereign. She was the world’s hinge, and he’d stood between that burden and her when she could


    7


    not.


    Eva knelt beside the cot, fingertips brushing Jiselle’s wrist. She looked fragile–her usual boldness gone, reced by a hollow edge of exhaustion.! realized then how rarely I’d seen her afraid. Now, she barely held herself in ce, as if her defiance had been depleted. I wanted to reach over, ce a steadying hand on her shoulder. But I didn’t. Instead I let her hold my gaze, and I stayed.


    Time slowed. Beneath the hush of the chamber, memories began to crack open.


    I felt the twin bond shatter when Max died–the wave hit me long after Naomi screamed. A part of me that had always been Jiselle’s protector splintered. I wondered if everyone else felt the same: Nate’s ground slipping, Eva’s anchor gone, Bastain’s faith wobbling. It seemed as if Max was the one holding the whole thing together, and when he fell… we all did.


    Eva inhaled, eyes prying open, tears trembling. Her hands clenched, into fists. She rose, pacing toward the opposite wall.


    I followed her slowly. I wanted to say–somethingforting. Anything to show I saw her grief. She stopped, back to me, voice brittle too young. And it–I thought I saw iting. This… this wasn’t supposed to be like this.”


    as… he was


    I didn’t want to respond with words. We were brothers by grief and promise. I stepped closer, slid a hand onto her bicep. She swallowed loudly, turned halfway. Our gaze met.


    And it felt like a tether anchored me.


    “Eva,” I whispered, “we all did.” Her shoulders shook as she exhaled. “I–I can’t…”


    “It’s okay,” I murmured<i>, </i>voice soft enough to keep the ghosts at bay. “I’ll hold it for you–until you can.”


    She swallowed again, nodded once, and looked away. Some semnce of calm returned to her eyes. She didn’t forgive herself–but she epted that she wasn’t alone in that.


    Meanwhile, I kept one eye on Jiselle. Shey still, exhaustion ck across her features. I wanted to move to her bedside, but I stayed rooted by the doorway, watching, protecting. If the Gate tried to reach her again, I’d tear it apart before it touched her blood.


    I made a silent <i>vow</i><i>, </i>wordless but fierce: If theye for her again, they will take me first.


    The hours blurred. The rest took turns watching. Nate lost himself in silent prayers by her side. Bastain leaned with half–closed eyes against the far wall.


    <b>88</b><b>% </b>


    28


    Only I stayed attentive, vignt.


    At sunrise–I’m not sure how longter–there came a sound. Soft, deliberate. It echoed through long corridors: a heavy creak, a stone shifting, We all


    froze.


    A deep door beneath the old library–one we’d never noticed before–opened. Into the chamber, a spiral of me–carved runes glowed faintly, as if responding to someone calling. Then, from that threshold…


    A voice.


    Deep, familiar–and cold.


    “You’vee to the wrong end,” Kael’s voice trembled through the silence. “Come find me at the true beginning.”


    The spiral of runes flickered. Smoke curled upward. A low hum followed–like something ancient exhaling beneath the stone.


    Every flesh on my skin tightened.


    I looked at Jiselle.


    Eva’s eyes widened–raw fear flickering back. Nate’s jaw clenched. Bastain opened his eyes fully.


    And I tightened my fist, craving a de, a moment, an anger.


    Because Max had died to protect her. And if this was the beginning of Kael’s next betrayal–if the abyss he’d disappeared into still had its ws ready–we would burn it down with or without him.


    The spiral pulsed again, faint light drawing us forward like breath through me.


    We all moved then–toward that spiral. My heart hammered. Jiselley there, vulnerable. But she was ours. Our heart. Not just hers.


    Eva reached to squeeze my hand. I gave it a quick nod. Her grip trembled, but she didn’t let go. Not this time.


    And with that, the four of us stepped forward.


    Towards the spiral.


    Towards… the true beginning.


    AD


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