<b>Chapter </b><b>201 </b>


    <b>*</b>Jiselle*


    The dagger sat between my palms like it had always belonged there.


    65 vouchals


    It shouldn’t have. It shouldn’t have fit so easily into my hand, like it had been forged to my pulse, molded to my shape. The weight of it didn’t feel foreign. It felt inevitable.


    Bastain stood in front of me, arms crossed behind his back, his expression unreadable. His usually impassive. mask was cracked, the lines around his mouth tighter than usual, his eyes darting once–just once–to my stomach.


    To the child.


    Then back to the de.


    “The veilstone,” he began, voice low, “was never meant to be found. Not again.”


    I swallowed, tightening my grip. “Then why was it in my room?”


    He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, lowering himself slowly until he crouched before me like someone approaching a me too hot to touch. I noticed the way his eyes shimmered faintly with the mark that used to brand him. The same Sovereign trace that had long since burned out of his blood, but never fully left.


    “It was waiting,” he said simply. “Veilstone is alive in a way that most weapons are not. It reacts to need. To magic. To despair. But it was created for one purpose only.”


    I held the de tighter, waiting.


    “It severs tethers,” he said. “Soul–tethers.”


    The silence that followed that sentence was heavier than the de itself. It stretched between us, pressing on my chest, thickening the air.


    “Mine?” I whispered.


    “No,” Bastain said. “The child’s.”


    My blood turned cold.


    “It’s forming,” he continued. “Stronger than we anticipated. Three mes–yours, Nate’s, Ethan’s–merging through her. Creating a kind of… hybrid bond. Triadic. Unnatural. She’s not just feeding from you anymore, Jiselle. She’s pulling. And if she continues… the bnce could fracture.”


    “Fracture how?<b>” </b>I forced out.


    His eyes softened, but not kindly. “The Triad may mergepletely. You, Nate, Ethan–entangled in a bond you can’t break. Shared memories. Shared pain. Shared death.”


    <b>11:50 Fri</b>, <b>Sep </b><b>5 </b>


    The de burned warmer in my hand.


    I tried to breathe. Failed.


    “There’s a ritual,” Bastain said. “Rare. Dangerous. But it’s the only one that can decide the oue.”


    “What happens?<b>” </b><b>I </b>asked. “If I use the dagger?”


    “If you choose to sever the tether,” he said, “it could weaken the Triad, but save the child. She may lose her <b>gift </b>entirely–especially if it’s still forming. You could lose her magic before it ever blooms.”


    “And if I don’t?”


    “If you allow the bond to form,” he said slowly, “the child will carry the Triad’s full imprint. Power. Purpose. Pain. She’ll be born Sovereign. Or worse.”


    I blinked back the sting in my eyes.


    “There’s no safe path,” Bastain said. “Only choice.”


    I stood. My hands trembled. The dagger pulsed again—once, twice, then steady like a second heartbeat in my palm. My own pulse skipped trying to match its rhythm.


    “I need to think.”


    He didn’t stop me as I turned and walked away.


    But I felt his words chase me down the corridor.


    “Don’t wait too long. The bond strengthens with every breath she takes.”


    I didn’t know where I was going until I got there.


    The observatory was empty, dark except for the faint shimmer of moonlight bleeding through the high windows. I didn’t turn on themps. I didn’t want light. Not for this.


    I sat on the steps beneath the arched ss and stared at the stars I couldn’t name. The dagger rested on my knees, its edge glinting softly like it was absorbing the light, not reflecting it.


    The door creaked open behind me.


    I knew it was Nate before I turned.


    “I heard,” he said simply, stopping a few feet away. “About the ritual.”


    “Of course you


    did.”


    “I want you to wait.”


    I exhaled. “Of course you do.”


    <b>11:50 </b>Fri<b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>5 </b>


    He came closer, sat beside me, close enough to feel the warmth from his arm, but not touching me. <b>His </b>presence filled the space like it always did, familiar and steady. But tonight, there was something <b>frayed </b>around the edges of him.


    “Jiselle,” he said, and my name sounded different in his voice. “You don’t have to do this.”


    “You don’t know that.”


    “I do.” His voice tightened. “You think giving up part of her will save her? That severing the bond will protect her? That’s not how it works.”


    “And what if I let it merge?” I snapped. “What if I let it grow and grow until there’s no difference between where I end and she begins? And then what, Nate? When Aedrices? When the Gate pulls us in?”


    “We’ll stop him together.”


    “You don’t get it.” My voice cracked. “This thing inside me–it’s not waiting. It’s choosing. It’s hungry.”


    His jaw clenched. “Then we fight it.”


    “With what? Love?” Iughed bitterly. “The same love you keep pulling away from every time I use my power? Every time I don’t act like the girl you remember?”


    “That’s not fair.”


    “No,” I said. “It’s honest.”


    He stood. Paced once, twice. His hands flexed like he wanted to grab something and couldn’t.


    “Look at me,” he said, voice lower now. “Look at what this is doing to you. You haven’t slept. You barely eat. You’re burning up from the inside, and now you want to plunge a dagger into your soul because Bastain thinks it might stop a prophecy.”


    “It’s not just about prophecy.”


    “No,” he said bitterly. “It’s about control. It always is.”


    I flinched.


    He stopped in front of me, eyes shadowed and uncertain. “I love you, Jiselle. That hasn’t changed. But you’re changing. Fast. And this dagger… this choice… it’s not you. It’s the me.”


    “Maybe I am the me,” I said quietly.


    He didn’t reply.


    “I’m not asking for permission,” I said. “I’m asking for support.”


    He turned away.


    And that was my answer.


    <b>11:50 </b>Fri<b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>5 </b>


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    1 found Ethan waiting by the old fountain in the southern garden, hands shoved in his coat pockets, <b>eyes </b>narrowed toward the leyline that shimmered faintly just beyond the trees.


    “You talked to him?” he asked without looking at me.


    “Yes.”


    “And?”


    “I think I lost him.”


    Ethan didn’t pretend to be surprised. “He’s scared.”


    “I’m scared,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I get to run.”


    He turned to face me then, the lines of his jaw sharp in the moonlight. “So you’re doing it?”


    “I have to.”


    He studied me for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out and took the dagger from my hand.


    “Ethan-”


    “If it fails,” he said, “let me take the pain.”


    My heart stilled. “What?<b>” </b>


    “I’m stronger than I look. You and Nate are already cracked from carrying too much. If one of us has to break… let it be me.”


    Tears sprang to my eyes before I could stop them. “Don’t you dare martyr yourself.”


    “I’m not.” He smiled faintly. “I’m just offering to hold the line. You shouldn’t have to carry everything.”


    I looked at him then–really looked. The boy I grew up with. The man who had nearly died for me more than once. He didn’t shine like Nate did. He didn’t roar like the me. But he was still here.


    Still holding.


    “I don’t deserve either of you,” I whispered.


    “Too bad,” he said. “You’ve got us anyway.”


    I took the dagger back.


    And made my way to the chamber.


    The ritual room was buried beneath the stronghold, carved into stone so old I could feel its age in my bones. The walls were lined with runes I couldn’t read. The air smelled of dust, salt, and something older than magic.


    Bastain stood at the center of the circle, already barefoot, sleeves rolled to his elbows, chalk in hand. He was


    <b>11:50 </b>Fri, Sep 5


    And something ancient screamed awake in my blood.


    I took a breath.


    And plunged the dagger toward my heart.