Chapter 25 - Elle #2
“Did she?” His laugh was bitter. “Your grandmother ran to Earth and hid your mother there, thinking that would break the cycle. That if you never came to Wynmire, the wheel couldn’t turn. But it didn’t work, did it? Because here you are anyway. The wheel pulled you back. It always does.”
Through the bond, I felt Kaelren’s rage spike—he was closer now, fighting his way through whatever stood between us. But underneath that rage, I felt something else. A terrible, familiar ache. Like recognition. Like remembering something you’d forgotten but your body never did.
“He knows,” I breathed. “Doesn’t he? He knows about the iterations.”
“Fragments. Pieces. Enough to drive him half-mad with déjà vu.” Auradelle stood, the untouched feast between us vanishing as if it had never existed.
“That’s why his corruption spreads so fast this time—he’s carrying the weight of sixteen failures, even if he can’t consciously remember them.
Every time he looks at you, some part of him remembers watching you die, or watching you choose Bloom and dissolve, or watching you walk away, or a thousand other endings, none of them happy. ”
“Then what’s the point?” My voice broke. “If we’re trapped in this cycle, if we always fail, why are you even bothering with this ritual?”
“Because I learned something from all those iterations. Something your grandmother never figured out.” He moved closer, and I saw genuine desperation in his eyes beneath the cold calculation.
“Every time before, you’ve had to choose between Root and Bloom.
Between him and the realm. Between love and duty.
But what if you didn’t have to choose? What if there was a way to merge them properly, to become both, to finally break the pattern? ”
“The binding ritual.”
“The binding ritual,” he confirmed. “It’s never been tried before—not in any iteration I could find records of.
Your grandmother was too afraid, Kaelren was too corrupted, previous versions of you were too…
limited. But you? You’re different this time.
Stronger. More adaptable. You’ve already started merging Root and Bloom in small ways.
I’ve seen the reports from your time in Wynmire, how you used both powers simultaneously. ”
“So you’re going to force me into this ritual and hope it works.”
“Hope?” He laughed, cold and sharp. “I’m going to make it work.
I’ve spent fifty years studying every iteration, every failure, every version of you that came before.
I know exactly where each one broke, exactly how to push harder this time.
” His voice dropped, losing any pretense of warmth.
“Eight days, Elle. Eight days to learn what you are, what you’ve been, and what you could become.
Eight days for me to break you down and reshape you into something that can finally serve its purpose. ”
He pushed back his chair and stood, taking one last sip of wine like he was savoring a victory already won. He started for the door, then paused, glancing back with a smile that made my skin crawl.
“Oh, and don’t worry about Kaelren. He’ll come for you—he always does.
It’s quite romantic, really, in a cosmically doomed sort of way.
Sixteen times he’s torn through my forces, corruption spreading with every step, thinking this time he’ll save you.
” His smile widened. “This time, I’ll be ready.
This time, I’m going to let him reach you—just in time to watch you dissolve into the ritual.
His corruption will peak at the exact moment you’re most vulnerable, and you’ll have no choice but to merge or die. Perfect synchronization.”
“And if we can’t?” My voice was barely a whisper.
His expression went cold, any pretense of sympathy evaporating.
“Then you fail again, the realm dies, and we reset. But you’ll carry the weight of seventeen lifetimes of failure into iteration eighteen.
And I?” He touched his corruption marks almost lovingly.
“I’ll remember everything. Every scream, every failure, every version of you I’ve broken trying to fix this.
I’m tired of being gentle. I’m tired of giving you choices. ”
He moved to the door, his robes shifting like living shadows. “So no, Elle. I’m not hoping. I’m ensuring. Whether you survive it with your mind intact is entirely up to how quickly you learn to obey.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with impossible truths.
I sat there for a long moment, trying to process it all. Sixteen previous iterations. Sixteen versions of this same story, all ending badly. Sixteen times I’d met Kaelren, loved him or hated him or something in between, and watched everything fall apart.
Through the bond—muffled but still there—I felt his rage. Distant, like hearing someone shout from miles away, but unmistakable. He was planning. Gathering forces, probably, rallying rebels for an assault that Auradelle was already prepared for.
“I remember you,” I thought into the silence, testing the words. “I don’t remember remembering you, but some part of me knows. Some part of me has always known.”
There was no response, but for just a moment, I felt something back—recognition and rage and desperate love all twisted together.
The door opened. The same terrified serving girl stood there, not meeting my eyes. She gestured for me to follow, keeping her distance from my restraints. The walk back was silent. She kept glancing at the chains on my wrists but never reached to help.
Back in my room, the restraints still burned cold against my skin. My markings writhed beneath them, trying to pull away from the Root-forged metal. Through the bond, I felt Kaelren’s fury building, even from however many miles separated us.
I stood at the window, looking out at the dying realm.
Twisted forests stretched to the horizon.
Rivers flowed backward, defying gravity.
Reality itself was coming undone at the edges, and I tried not to think about sixteen other versions of myself who had stood at windows just like this one, facing the same impossible choice.
“Hold on,” I thought into our bond. “I’m going to figure this out. This time has to be different. This time, we’re going to change the ending.”
There was no response. Just that distant rage, burning steady somewhere far from here.
Eight days. Seventeen iterations. One chance to finally break the wheel.
I pressed my hand against the cold glass and tried to believe it was possible.