<b>Chapter 205 </b>


    <b>*</b><b>Jiselle</b>*


    They arrived at dusk.


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    The kind of dusk where the air feels thick with something unsaid–when the wind carries more than leaves, and the horizon glows just a shade too red. The guards hadn’t raised rm, hadn’t sensed a threat, which meant whoever approached had known how to walk through magical barriers like they’d been built for him.


    I was in the atrium with Bastain and Eva when the doors creaked open. Slowly. Deliberately. The way doors do when someone isn’t afraid to be heard.


    A tall figure stepped into the light.


    Robes burned at the hem. Hair streaked with soot and silver. Skin weathered, but not aged. Not like time had passed. More like time had… paused. Watched. Waited.


    My heart kicked once.


    Eva straightened beside me. “That’s-”


    “Master Calren,” Bastain said tly.


    The name stilled the air.


    The name from old textbooks. From academy stories. From whispers about the fire. Calren. An instructor once sworn to the highest tier of the Gate. Vanished the day it fell. No body had ever been found.


    The man bowed his head. “Bastain. You’ve grown bitter.”


    “I’ve earned it.”


    “And you,” he said, turning his gaze to me, and his eyes–gods–his eyes were like leyline ss. Clear. Unreadable. “You are the one Serina dreamt of.”


    I didn’t answer. <b>I </b>wasn’t sure I could.


    He looked like a ghost carved out of memory. And when he stepped closer, something in the mes beneath my skin shivered.


    “You should not be alive<i>,” </i>Bastain said coldly.


    “And yet I am. I followed the ash trails. I walked through the cracked stone and wed my way through time. I watched from the Veil’s edge when you built this stronghold. I saw your new Sovereign bleed fire <b>through </b>stone and air.”


    Eva narrowed her eyes<b>. </b>“Why now?”


    He turned to her. “Because now, the final tether prepares to burn.”


    The room fell silent.


    “You know of Aedric?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.


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    He gave a slow nod. “Better than most. I was Serina’s second. Her advisor in the final cycle. The one who warned her… that her brother’s hunger could never be contained.”


    Bastain’s stance tensed beside me.


    “And yet you did nothing,” he said.


    “I was cast out before the fire began,” Calren replied, his voice steady, <i>too </i>calm. “I was not there to stop it. But I was there long enough to know–he was never meant to be Sovereign. Not him.”


    Eva crossed her arms. “So who was?<b>” </b>


    Calren looked at me.


    And my chest tightened.


    “The child?<b>” </b>I asked, almost breathless.


    He shook his head. “No. Not yet. The child is the convergence. The me that will decide whether the past burns away… or returns. But it is not her burden to bear alone.”


    Something in his words chilled me. They felt too smooth. Like rehearsed warnings meant to wrap around the truth without ever touching it.


    “You said something about a tether,” Eva pushed.


    “The Triad you’ve formed,” he said. “me, Blood, Veil. Once the child is born, it willplete a cycle older than Sovereignty itself. Three cannot remain. Not if the Gate is to close.”


    I stepped forward. “What are you saying?<b>” </b>


    “One of you will die,” he answered simply. “And if you do not choose, the me will.”


    The world narrowed around me. I felt Bastain’s tension beside me, Eva’s sharp inhale. But I couldn’t feel the floor, Couldn’t feel the air.


    “You expect us to believe this,” Bastain growled.


    “I expect you to prepare,” Calren said. “You do not need to trust me. But you should fear the truth.”


    Then he bowed, once, and walked past us, deeper into the stronghold like he’d always belonged there.


    And no one stopped him.


    I didn’t sleep.


    <b>9:07 </b>Tue<b>, </b>Sep 16


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    <b>71 </b>


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    Not because of fear. But because of what I saw in Calren’s face. That expression of resignation. Of waiting. Like he already knew how this would end.


    Bastain ordered a magical lock around my quarters, though I didn’t ask for it. Nate hadn’t returned yet. He’d been avoiding me again since the mark first red on my stomach. Like seeing it reminded him that he couldn’t protect me from what wasing.


    Or worse–like he knew he’d be the one to burn.


    The night stretched long.


    I walked the halls once, then again, eyes skimming the corners of the stronghold. Old candlelight flickered. Faint leyline hums beat beneath the stone. The child inside me stirred with every ripple–never asleep now. Always… listening.


    I passed Ethan’s door. Paused.


    He wasn’t inside.


    The bed was made.


    The sheets untouched.


    I turned.


    And <b>I </b>saw them.


    Down the far corridor. Just before the training wing. A shadow, cloaked in ash–colored robes.


    Calren.


    He stood with his hand hovering above Ethan’s forehead. Ethan’s eyes were closed–too still. Not unconscious. Not dreaming. Somewhere… in between.


    “No,” I whispered.


    I started toward them, but the air shifted.


    A crack of energy raced up the walls like a spark on dry wood. The torchlight dimmed. The corridor pulsed.


    And just as Calren’s hand touched Ethan’s skin-


    Light exploded from the contact.


    Violet. And gold.


    I stumbled back as Ethan’s body jerked upright–but his eyes didn’t open.


    <b>A </b>mark formed on his skin.


    Not burned.


    9:07 <b>Tue</b><b>, </b>Sep 16


    Not inked.


    Written.


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    A sigil across his temple, spiraling down his neck, glowing faintly like breath caught in stone.


    Calren stepped back, unshaken.


    I reached for Ethan–but stopped just shy of touching him.


    “What did you do?” I breathed.


    Calren turned slowly, and for the first time since he arrived… he smiled.


    “He’s the key.”


    “To what?”


    “To the choice that muste.”


    I clenched my fists, the dagger–shaped ache still buried in my core. “If you touch him again—”


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    “I won’t need to,” Calren said calmly. “The mark is already written. And the me has already chosen.”


    Before I could demand more, he turned and disappeared into the dark wing of the stronghold.


    I turned to Ethan, whose breathing had begun to return to normal–shallow and fast, like he’d just been dragged from drowning.


    He didn’t wake.


    Not fully.


    But the mark remained.


    And I knew, without needing a seer or a prophecy to confirm it…


    Everything had just changed.


    And the death Calren warned us of-


    It had already started writing itself.


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