167

bChapter /b136

bChapter 136 /b

bJiselle /b

I bdidn’t /bsleep much the night after the bond shifted.

It wasn’t fear that kept me awake. It wasn’t even the heat of my own magic whispering beneath my skin. It was something quieter. A feeling bI /bcouldn’t name. Like the world had tilted just enough to make everything I thought I knew suddenly feel distant.

I could still feel Nate’s breath against my temple, the way his voice steadied me when my legs gave out, the way his arms didn’t hesitate even when he could’ve been burned. But this new version of the me didn’tsh–it reached. It responded not to rage or reflex, but to the people who stood closest bto /bmy heart.

It had spoken without words. And now, I needed to learn how to listen.

The next morning, Eva found me sitting at the edge of the leyline rise, my legs tucked under me, palms facing upward on my knees. The field was quiet, mist still rising off the grasses like the ground itself was dreaming. We were far enough from the others that I didn’t have to keep the me caged.

“I figured you’d be out here,” she said, settling beside me, her tone soft and even.

“Didn’t feel like staying still,” I murmured. “bToo /bmuch noise in my head.”

“Is it her?” Eva asked, gently.

I shook my headb. /b“Not anymore.”

Truth was, I hadn’t heard Eira’s voice since the merging. Whatever pieces she left behind weren’t speaking. They were watching. Observing this new path like they hadn’t yet decided whether it would hold.

It wasn’t the ghost I was wrestling with now.

It was the fire.

Not old fire. Not rage, not pain. This new power–it didn’t scream. It waited.

“Ready to test it?” Eva asked.

b“/bI think so.”

We rose together. I kicked off my boots and stepped into the clearing barefoot, grounding myself. I needed to feel the earth beneath me, the leyline humming through my bones like it had been stitched into me.

I took a breath. The air was cool, but it didn’t bite.

“Okay,” I saidb, /braising my hand, just slightly. “Let’s see what you are.”

Nothing happened bat /bfirst.

No sparks. No explosion.

But the instant I opened myself–not with force, but with feeling–it responded.

bThe /bviolet light shimmered beneath my skin like it had always lived there. It moved gently through my fingertips and curled boutward /bbinto /bbthe /bbspace /baround me. No heat. Just presence.

I thought of Ethan.

bNot /bjust his nameb, /bbut bthe /bweight of him. His loyalty. bHis /bpain. The way his eyes still searched for bme /blike bI /bbhadn’t /bbbe /bbsomething /bbother/b. bThe /bbway /bbhe’d /b

b1/4 /b

bChapter /bb136 /b

stood bbetween /bme and fire-even when the fire was bmine/b.

I remembered the moment my meshed and struck him. The crack of it. The way he hit the ground. And still, stillb, /bbhe /bcrawled toward me. Hot to light Not bto /bsubdue.

bTo /bbreach /bbme/bb. /b

Because even in his fear, he never saw me as something to be put down.

He saw me as his.

My brother.

My tether to the girl I used to be.

The me stirred.

It curled around my wrist like breath–cool, not hot. Like it understood reverence. Like it recognized Ethan not as a source of painb, /bbut of anchor.

Then I thought of Eva.

Herugh, loud and sharp even in ces where joy shouldn’t have survived.

The way she stood in front of me during the Trial of me when others stepped back.

The nights we curled up back–to–back in silence because words were too heavy but presence was enough.

The morning I woke from darkness and saw her kneeling beside me, palms cut from holding too tightly, voice breaking from screaming bmy /bname.

She didn’t follow me because she had to.

She stayed because she chose to.

Her resilience didn’t roar. It hummed.

And the me responded.

The light around me strengthened–brightening not in heatb, /bbut in density. Violet lines spun outward from my palmb, /bdelicate and slow, like silk being teased apart by wind. A spiral began to take shape, weaving itself into the air, not as fire but as something far more rare-

Creation.

I held my breath.

The spiral didn’t crackle. It didn’t consume.

bIt /bdrew.

It absorbed the magic floating between heartbeats and memory, and began to gather light around it, thickening with every thought bI /boffered.

It was listening.

“Jiselle,” Eva whispered, her voice just beside my shoulder now. Her eyes were wide, awestruck. “You’re not just channeling. You’re… creatingb./b”

bThe /bspiral responded bto /bher voice like a ripple on ake. It thickened, the edges refiningb, /bthe spin bslowing /bbuntil /bit held a perfect bform/bb–/bbcalcted/b, intentional.

And then something began bto /bform at its center.

bChapter /bb136 /b

bSymbols/b.

bNot /bones I recognized, but ones that felt right. Like pieces of anguage that lived inside me long before I knew what it meant to speak.

I could have forced it. Could’ve leaned in and demanded more.

But I didn’t.

I let bthe /bme settle.

I released the grip I hadn’t realized I still held inside my chest.

And for the first time, I asked.

Not aloud.

But within.

What are you trying to tell me?

The spiral trembled–once–like a breath being held too long.

Then it opened.

The center unfolded like petals pressed t by time, and the symbols inside didn’t scatter. They rearranged.

Shifted.

Snapped into ce.

A sigil.

Clear.

Precise.

Ancient.

It pulsed once, a slow thud in the air that felt like a second heartbeat behind my own.

Eva gasped.

I couldn’t speak. I didn’t blink. I just watched as the symbols glowed brighter, deepening into indigo and silver.

bAnd /bthen-

Words.

They didn’t carve into the air.

They weren’t spoken.

bThey /bsimply… appeared.

bNot /bsummoned.

Revealed.

THE GATE STILL BREATHES.

14-06 Mon za May

bChapter /bb136 /b

bThe /bclearing bchanged/b.

bNot /bbvisibly /bat first. But the air thickened. The temperature dropped, not with cold but with presence. Like the leyline below bus /bhad inhaled sharply and refused bto /blet it go.

The ground beneath my feet trembled–just slightly. Just enough that I felt the magic push upward, threading through the soles of my feet like it had something to say.

bEva /bstepped forward slowly, her voice a near whisper. “That’s impossible.”

I didn’t respond.

I couldn’t.

Because beyond the sigil, behind the light, I saw something else-

A shape.

Faint. Forming.

Not a figure.

A doorway.

Round. Etched with the same symbols from the sigil, onlyrger, older, half–lost to time. They shimmered and shifted as if searching for the right

configuration–as if they were remembering their purpose.

“Is this what Serina was protecting?” I whispered, barely aware that I’d spoken aloud. “Not just the me… but a passage?”

Eva’s lips parted in stunned silence.

Then she said, slowly, “I’ve seen this mark before.”

My head snapped toward her. “What?”

She nodded slowly. “Bastain showed me a sketch–taken from the eastern Veil ruins. He said it was part of a seal… one we thought had broken centuries

ago.”

“But it didn’t,” I said. “It just waited.”

Eva looked at me. “Jiselle… what if this isn’t just power? What if it’s a key?”

The light red again.

And somewhere, far beneath our feet, the earth sighed.

Not like it was breaking.

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