Chapter 13
Thane
I fucked up.
Bad.
The words hit hard, partly because I’m thinking them and partly because I just said them out loud. No silver tongue, no calculated deflection, no strategic positioning. Just raw, unfiltered truth.
“I fucked up. Bad.”
Bree’s still shaking beside me, silver mist snapping and crackling around her like live wire.
But it’s not just silver anymore—dark threads weave through it in patterns that make my skin crawl, black veins spreading through her Ether like infection.
She doesn’t seem to notice, lost in her fury and betrayal, but I can see it.
The corruption threading through her power, turning something pure into something… else.
She’s not looking at me—can’t look at me, probably—and I don’t blame her.
“Okay,” I say to the endless black around us, voice pitched higher than usual.
“Okay, so. This is new. This is definitely not covered in any Council handbook I’ve ever read.
” I run a hand through my hair, feel it shaking slightly.
“Which is concerning because those handbooks are very thorough. Disturbingly thorough, actually. They have chapters on interdimensional travel, but nothing about—” I gesture vaguely at the star-dotted space. “Whatever this is.”
A laugh escapes me, sharp and brittle. “Though I suppose ‘how to survive after accidentally betraying a Source’ wasn’t exactly a priority topic when they were writing the manual.”
That’s when I hear it.
Soft. Amused. Predatory.
Laughter.
Not mine. Not Bree’s.
Something else.
The sound cuts through the endless black around us like a blade, and suddenly I realize I’ve been so focused on Bree’s explosion, on the silver strand still pulsing between us, on the weight of my own guilt, that I didn’t actually look around.
I’ve been in crisis mode, tunnel vision locked on damage control. But now—
Now I lift my head and actually see where we are.
Nothing.
Endless black space dotted with distant stars that could be lights or could be eyes or could be nothing at all. The ground beneath our feet feels solid but looks like everything else here, like we’re standing on a stage made of darkness itself.
And we’re not alone.
The realization runs through me like ice water. That laugh—it came from somewhere. Someone. Something that’s been watching us this whole time while I’ve been having my breakdown.
I clear my throat, trying to find some scrap of my usual control. “Uh… Bree?”
She doesn’t respond. Still lost in whatever storm is raging inside her head, mist still crackling with those wrong-colored threads.
“Bree, where exactly did you take us?”
The voice that answers isn’t hers.
“Nowhere and everywhere.”
The words float through the darkness like smoke, each syllable deliberate and savored. The cadence is wrong—too slow, too careful, like whoever is speaking wants to taste each word before letting it go.
“Here, now… and then.”
A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with temperature. I’ve heard predators before. I’ve been one. But this—this is something else entirely. Something that makes the word ‘predator’ feel inadequate.
Bree’s head snaps up, confusion and fury blazing in her green eyes.
“The fuck?” she snarls, mist flaring brighter around her.
“No.”
The voice cuts through her anger like silk over steel, gentle but implacable.
“Not yet.”
The way it says those words—like a caress, like a promise, like a threat wrapped in velvet—makes every instinct I have start screaming at once.
Silence stretches between us and the darkness, heavy with presence I can’t see but can feel watching. Evaluating. Waiting.
I thought I’d seen monsters. Thought I’d been one.
But this? This is something else entirely.
Wherever we are isn’t empty.
It’s occupied.
And whatever lives here has been waiting for us to arrive.