Jiselle<b>‘ </b>
The sky hadn’t cleared since the leyline pulsed violet. It hung thick and heavy, like ash waiting to fall. I hadn’t seen Nate since he walked away, and though the bond remained–quiet, low–it was like someone had ced a wall between us.
I didn’t know how to tear it down. Maybe I didn’t want to.
The stone beneath my feet still radiated the heat of myst outburst. The scorched circle stretched like a brand across the clearing<b>, </b>the edges still ckened, as if even the earth hadn’t figured out how to forgive me. The meditation chamber Bastain had carved into the ridge now felt like a tomb.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had followed me out of that vision. Something more than a message.
Something watching.
“Jiselle,” Bastain called from behind me. His voice echoed slightly against the canyon wall. “Come quickly.”
I didn’t ask why. His tone was enough.
I followed him through the arches, past the leyline chamber, into the southern wing of the ruins where the old infirmary had been. converted into a safe space for rogue arrivals.
Except this one hadn’t arrived. He’d been dragged.
A male. Blood slick across his chest and throat, ribs rising and falling in shallow, stuttered motions. His eyes, though half–lidded and dull, still flickered with panic. Not fear. Something worse. Recognition.
I stepped closer, heart already racing.
Eva stood near the edge of the cot, her eyes locking with mine, pale and tight. “He was found near the old Outpost route. By the time the scouts got there, he’d already started… changing.”
“Changing how?”
Bastain didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Because the moment the rogue’s lips moved, I felt it.
Like a thread pulled tight in my chest.
Like someone exhaling into my bones.
“Jiselle.”
It wasn’t his voice.
It was too smooth, too exact. Cold. Familiar in a way I couldn’t exin.
He didn’t say my name like a stranger trying to remember it. He said it like it belonged to him.
<b>Chapter </b>1941
“<b>Jiselle</b>… daughter <b>of </b>Sovereign fire, Veilborn me.
<b>I </b><b>took </b>a step back.
“What is that?” Ethan whispered.
The rogue’s back arched, cracking with the movement. A strange heat pressed into the room, not physical, but pressing all weight and presence, like a second gravity.
“You were never meant to be born,” the voice went on. “But I waited. I listened. And now
The rogue’s body seized once. Twice. And then copsed.
Silence.
Then smoke.
A thin stream rose from the bones beneath his chest–smoke shaped
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Who the hell was that?” Ethan asked, jaw tense.
into
a
rune that pulsed <i>once </i>and vanished.
Bastain stepped forward slowly, as if speaking the name might bring the voice back. “Aedric.”
“Aedric?” Eva frowned. “Who is that?”
He looked at me.
Then, finally, at the others.
“He was Serina’s twin. Hollow–born. Banished from all written record after the first Veil fracture. He should not exist.”
“But he does,” I said, voice thin.
“And he knows you,” Bastain said gently. “He didn’t just know your name. He knew your line. He’s been listening.”
long?”
My heart pounded, rage and fear colliding in my veins. <i>“</i><i>Ho </i>
“Maybe always,” Bastain murmured. “Maybe only since the child stirred the Hollow.”
That was the moment Nate entered the room.
He looked wrecked–eyes sunken, jaw set too tightly, like he hadn’t slept in days. He didn’t look at me. Only at Bastain.
“What did I miss?”
I turned on him before I could stop myself. “Where the hell have you been?”
He blinked. “I needed to think.”
“While I was being hunted from the inside out?”
<b>Chapter </b>194
<b>His </b><b>mouth </b>opened<b>, </b>but no words came.
1
<b>“</b><b>You’re </b>pulling away again,” I snapped, the emotion cracking in my chest louder than my voice. “And I’m done pretending Iront feel it.”
Nate nced around at the others, then nodded stiffly. “Fine.”
He turned and walked toward the far corner. I followed him, ignoring Eva’s warning nce, ignoring Bastain’s soft sigh
“Don’t walk away from this too,” l hissed.
“I’m not walking away. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
I stepped in front of him. “Then act like it!”
He looked at me then. Really looked.
But not like he used to.
Not like someone in love.
Like someone on the edge of doubt.
“You think I don’t feel what’s happening?” His voice shook. “You think I haven’t watched the child grow stronger while your control slips further away? You want honesty, Jiselle? Fine. I’m terrified. Because this isn’t just about you anymore.”
I flinched.
He went on. “You say you want me here–but every time I reach for you, I don’t know who I’m touching. You’re changing. And not slowly.”
My breath stung in my throat. “So what, you’re trying to love the version of me I used to be?”
His jaw clenched.
That was enough.
I stepped back.
Because I already knew the answer.
We stood there in silence, breathing the same air, but feeling miles apart.
Then something shifted again.
A pulse.
From him.
Nate’s hand flew to his chest, fingers trembling.
“What…” He staggered back, then fell to one knee, gritting his teeth. “Something’s
I rushed to him, dropping to the floor.
<b>3/4 </b>
wrong.
<b>His </b>shirt <b>tore </b><b>easily under </b><b>my </b>hands, and there–just over his heart–was <b>a </b><b>rune</b>.
<b>New</b><b>. </b>Strange. Nothing like the others.
<b>Not </b>me. Not veil. Not blood.
Something else.
It pulsed once beneath his skin, the lines raw and glowing, edges jagged like it had been forced into him.
I looked up at Bastain. “What is that?”
He moved slowly, too slowly.
When he saw it, he froze.
Eva stepped beside him, frowning. “Do you know it?”
Bastain didn’t speak.
Didn’t blink.
He just stared at the rune, color draining from his face.
And then, finally, he shook his head.
“No,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen that mark before.”
Nate looked at me.
And for the first time since the child had been conceived, we didn’t know which one of us was the one changing too fast.
Or which of us was going to break first.
AD