<b>Chapter </b><b>175 </b>
*Jiselle‘
The Gate was not a ce. It was a heartbeat.
Each step I took through the spiraling ruin pulled me deeper into its rhythm, a pulsing thrum that wasn’t just sound–it was memory<b>, </b>song<b>, </b>and blood all at once. The walls around me were alive, carved from smoke and bone, endlessly shifting like breath inhaling and exhaling. I didn’t know how I got here. One moment I was staring into the sigil on the wall, the next, I was inside something ancient and waiting. It hadn’t dragged me. I came willingly. That was the danger.
The heart of the Gate didn’t open with force. It opened with recognition.
The corridor widened, firelight curling through the air like silk, warm and deceptive. My footsteps echoed, soft against the ckened floor, as if the world was holding its breath. And there he was.
Kael.
He stood at the center of a vast chamber of me, beneath an arch that rippled like water, surrounded by golden runes that floated midair. His eyes were the same. Always the same. Pale gold, rimmed in sorrow and knowing. He turned before I could speak, a faint smile brushing his lips like he’d known wasing all along.
“You came alone,” he said.
I <i>kept </i>walking until I stood just beyond the arch of me. “You knew I would.”
Kael didn’t look like a monster. That was the problem. He looked tired. Human. Beautiful in the way fire was beautiful–if you forgot it could consume. His hair had grown longer, streaked with embers. His clothing was simple now<b>, </b>more ceremonial than regal, etched with sigils I half–recognized <b>from </b>Serina’s memory.
He reached out a hand–not to pull, not tomand, but to invite.
“Let me show you.”
I didn’t take it. Not yet. But I followed.
The me didn’t burn me as I stepped under the arch. The chamber changed instantly. No longer ruin. No longer fire. But sky.
Endless sky.
And beneath it—a world reborn. Mountains nketed in gold. Forests untouched by war<b>. </b>Cities humming with light<b>, </b>not darkness. Wolves running freely in every form. No chains. No sickness. No death. Kael walked beside me as if we were gods strolling through a garden of what could be.
In the distance, a structure shimmered. A tower shaped from crystal and root, rising into the clouds.
“Our home,” he said quietly. “A realm where the Gate is no longer a weapon. Where no <b>one </b>fears their power. Where <b>you </b><b>rule</b>, n but because you are me incarnate.”
“And you?” I asked, my voice barely above a breath.
“I would reign beside you. Not above. Never above.”
He turned to me then. His hand still extended.
<b>“</b>You could heal it all, Jiselle. We could build this world from <b>the </b>ashes. No more <b>Council</b>. <b>No </b>more war. Just peace. Purpose, <b>Power</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
The vision trembled slightly, but I didn’t <b>step </b>back.
ause you’re <b>cursed</b>,
<b>1/3 </b>
<b>08:52 Wed</b><b>, </b><b>25 </b><b>Jun </b>
<b>“</b><b>You </b>mean we fuse.”
He nodded, almost reverently. “Two mes. One Sovereign.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full–of memory, longing, fear. A part of me wanted it. Not the power. But the quiet. The end <b>of running </b>The version of me who didn’t have to carry a de everywhere she walked.
Kael’s hand was still there. Unmoving.
And for a second, just <b>a </b>second, I started to raise mine.
Then I heard him.
**Jiselle.**
Nate’s voice didn’t echo in the world around me. It bloomed inside me. Through the bond. Not magic. Notmand. Just love. Undeniable<b>. </b>Anchoring His voice was ragged with panic, shaking with the edge of something breaking.
**Come back. Please. Come back to me.**
Kael’s eyes changed. Just slightly. Enough for me to see it.
The desperation. The hunger. The need to be chosen.
<i>And </i>in that moment, I understood.
This wasn’t peace.
It was illusion. Desire cloaked in prophecy. And I wasn’t a vessel to be filled or fused or imed.
I was the me.
I lowered my hand. Kael flinched.
“You always knew I had to choose,” I said softly. “And you always hoped it would be you.”
He stepped closer. “This is the only way. If we destroy the link, the Gate willsh out. It needs <b>a </b>conduit-”
“No. It needs release. Not from me. From all of us.”
I closed my eyes. Not to escape–but to remember. Every moment. Every scar. Every hand that held mine. Every time I could have given up and didn’t. The bond with Nate sparked like a star behind my ribs. Not pulling. Not begging. Just waiting. Just there.
I reached not outward, but inward.
To the ce inside me where Serina’s memory lived. Where the sigils bloomed like roots. I called them forth–<b>not </b>to mark<b>, </b><b>but </b><b>to </b>unbind. I <b>saw </b><b>the </b><b>tether </b>then. Not between me and Kael. Not even between me and the Gate.
Between the Gate and all its vessels.
I burned it.
One word. One breath. Not spoken aloud, but etched through the marrow of who I was.
**Enough.**
The chamber exploded <b>in </b>light. <b>Not </b>fire. Not magic. Truth. The vision shattered. The sky burned away. <b>The </b><b>tower </b><b>crumbled </b><b>into </b>mist<b>. </b><b>Kael </b><b>screamed_not </b>in pain, but in loss.
The Gate cracked open. Not into the world, but into itself. And I reached my hands into the center and unmade <b>it</b>.
Every rune. Every chain. Every binding link.
Unwritten.
I saw Serina then. Just for a moment. Smiling. Free.
I saw Kael fall to his knees.
And I saw thest thread snap.
The Gate copsed.
And I copsed with it.
My body fell through nothing and everything. The light folded inward. Not destroying. Not consuming. Just ending.
And then–arms.
Strong. Shaking. Familiar.
Nate.
He caught me as I fell, his voice distant and raw. I wanted to open my eyes. <b>To </b>tell him I was alright. That I’d done it. But I couldn’t move. I <b>couldn’t </b>speak.
All I could feel was the glow.
It spread across my skin, not like a me–but like a name being spoken back into existence.
And then–stillness.
Not death.
But something close enough to make him scream my name.
Again.
AD
Comment