*Jiselle*

55 vouchers fn2bc3 This text is hosted at find?novel/fn2bc3

The rain didn’t fall so much as it lingered–misty and slow, like the sky couldn’t quite decide if it was mourning or healing. I walked barefoot up the hill, the old path grown soft with moss and ckened roots. The scars of thest fire still curled around the stones, splitting them in jagged lines where Serina had once stood, her cloak a banner of defiance.

I clutched the same cloak now.

It hadn’t been there the night before. But this morning, it was waiting at the edge of the grave, folded with a kind of reverence that made me hesitate to touch it.

The thread was still warm.

It was darker than I remembered from the visions–almost charcoal, but with a sheen of deep blue that shifted in the rainlight. The sigils along the hem weren’t embroidered in silver like Serina’s. They were inverted. Altered. Something between the old Sovereign marks and something entirely new. They curved backward, as if reflecting a different kind of truth.

I draped it over my shoulders.

And it fit.

Not because it was tailored. Not because it looked right. But because it felt right. Like it had been waiting for me. Like it knew this wasn’t a coronation.

It was a return.

I knelt beside Serina’s grave, fingers pressing into the earth where the old sigil stone cracked in twost spring. The fracture remained. And no magic had tried to mend it.

Maybe that was the point.

Maybe we weren’t meant to hide the breaks anymore.

“I’m trying,” I whispered. “But I don’t know how to lead a world that never taught me how to survive.”

The wind shifted behind me.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

His steps were heavier now–not with pain, but purpose. He didn’t say anything when he reached me. Just stood a few feet back, letting the silence wrap around us like a second skin.

I stayed where I was for a long time.

Then I said, “You don’t have to pretend I’m okay.”

“I wouldn’t insult you like that.”

86

35 vouchery

I turned my head slowly. Nate’s arms were crossed. His cloak was soaked through. His hair hung wet and wild in his face, but his eyes–his eyes were steady. Watching me. Always watching.

“I’m not wearing this to rule,” I said quietly.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be their Sovereign.”

His gaze flicked to the cloak, then back to me. “Then don’t.”

“I want to be their rebuild,” I whispered. “Not their queen.”

He didn’t move for a long time. But when he did, it was quiet. Measured. He came down to one knee in the wet grass beside me, his hand reaching for mine without a single word of demand.

“Then let’s rebuild,” he said.

It broke something in me.

And mended something else.

I looked at him. Really looked. The rain caught on hisshes. His jaw was tight, but his hand was warm in mine. And in that silence, I let go of everything that had held us apart–fear, pride, grief, guilt.

I leaned forward and kissed him.

Not in desperation. Not in anger, but because–for the first time since this began–I wanted to stay.

His lips parted against mine with a soft breath, one hand finding the side of my neck, thumb brushing the old scar near my jaw. The one from the first time I survived the Gate. His other hand steadied me at the waist, gentle but certain.

We kissed like we’d never get another chance.

But it also felt like we might make it. Like we might actually survive this. And maybe–for now–that was enough.

We broke apart slowly, the moment lingering. Nate’s forehead rested against mine, and our breaths remained tangled between us, soft and steady.

“I love you,” I said, the words barely louder than a breath, but no less true for their softness.

He closed his eyes, and something in his expression shifted–less guarded, more open. “You always say iit /ilike it’s a rebellion.”

“That’s because it is,” I replied, and the corners of my mouth lifted, even if just for a second.

We stood together in the quiet that followed. Still holding hands. Still holding each other. Still holding

whatever this was between us.

I turned my gaze toward the trees, toward the ce where the leyline shimmered beneath the earth like a secret river of me. It pulsed faintly beneath the moss and stone, unseen by most, but never forgotten by ollime. /li/ol

And then I saw her.

But it wasn’t the child.

It was me.

Older. Wiser. Cloaked in something not quite fabric, not quite smoke. I was standing on the jagged edge of a broken cliff that split two worlds–one veiled in endless fire, and the other cloaked in pale ash.

And behind her–behind me–stood Sra.

Not as the baby I knew. Not as the radiant, halfughing infant who still clung to her wildness.

She was older. A girl, just on the edge of knowing. Still too young. Still too quiet.

But she was awake.

Watching everything.

Waiting for something.

And beside her, rising from the crack between realms, stood the Gate.

It was still open, still breathing, and still waiting.

The vision vanished as suddenly as it came, blinking out like a me extinguished too fast. But the image- that final image–seared into my mind with the same weight and rity as the first sigil that had ever burned itself into my skin.

I stumbled back, the breath catching in my throat like a swallowed cry.

Nate caught me before I could fall. His hands were firm on my arms, steadying, grounding. “What did you see?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.

I looked at him, and this time I didn’t try to disguise the fear that slipped into my voice.

“I saw myself,” I said. “And I saw Sra.”

“And?” he pressed gently.

I swallowed hard, the answer heavy on my tongue. “She was standing behind me. And I think…..”

He waited. “You think what?”

“I think I stayed,” I whispered.

b16:13 /bbMon/bb, /bbSep /bb29 /b

The words lingered in the air between us, heavier than they should have been.

And then, as if the rain itself remembered her voice, I heard Serina.

It was soft, steady and unmistakable.

“The future doesn’t want a ruler,” she whispered through the patter of rain. “It wants a witness.”

AD

The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

continue reading tomorrow, everyone!