Chapter 32
Bree
I stand at the edge of the opening, staring down into darkness that seems to pull at something deep in my chest. The stone steps spiral down beyond what I can see, worn smooth by ages of footsteps that came before. Before me. Before this moment that feels like it’s been waiting my whole life.
The Ether coils around my ankles, restless silver threads shot through with black that pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat. It wants to go down. I can feel it tugging at me like a tide, like gravity, like coming home.
“Bree.” Rhett’s voice carries a warning I’ve heard too many times lately. “Maybe we should—”
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take it back. “This is mine. Whatever’s down there, it’s mine.”
I can feel them all watching me — Rhett’s protective tension, Gray’s quiet concern, Jace’s restless energy. Wes hovers close enough that I can sense his warmth, and Theo stands perfectly still like he’s afraid any movement might shatter the moment.
Thane and Stellan are silent, standing apart from the others, though something in their stillness feels different. Expectant. Like they know exactly what I’m about to find.
“I’ll go first,” I say, not looking back at them. “Alone.”
“Like hell,” Jace starts, but I cut him off.
“This isn’t a discussion.” My voice carries an authority I didn’t know I had in me, and it surprises me as much as it does them. “I can feel it calling to me. Not to us. To me.”
The Ether flares brighter, and the symbols carved into the scattered stones begin to pulse in response. The mirror shards catch the light and throw it back in patterns that would look beautiful if there weren’t angry butterflies in my stomach.
I take the first step down.
The moment my foot touches the ancient stone, the world changes.
Light blooms along the walls — not harsh, but warm and welcoming, like coming inside from the cold. The darkness retreats, revealing carved symbols that spiral down the walls in patterns that seem to move when I’m not looking directly at them.
Each step I take, more light appears. Not electric or fire, but something else. Something that recognizes me.
“Bree?” Gray’s voice echoes from above, careful and concerned.
“I’m okay,” I call back, though my voice sounds strange in this space. Richer somehow. Like the walls are designed to carry sound.
The stairs curve as they descend, and with each turn, I can see more of what waits below. My breath catches.
It’s not just a room. It’s a cathedral.
The staircase opens into a circular chamber so vast I can’t see the far walls in the gentle light that emanates from the stones themselves. The air is cooler here, carrying the faint scent of old stone and something that might be ozone, like the aftermath of lightning.
But what steals my breath isn’t the size — it’s the design.
The chamber descends in tiers around me, like an ancient amphitheater built in reverse.
Stone platforms extend down in concentric circles, each level carved with alcoves and niches, creating rings that spiral so far down toward shadows that light can’t penetrate. And mounted on every wall, are mirrors.
Hundreds of them.
Each one is different — some tall and narrow, others wide and ornate, all of them framed in materials I don’t recognize but that seem to shimmer with their own inner light. They line every tier, creating a constellation of reflecting surfaces that catches and multiplies the ambient glow.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and step onto the smooth floor.
The chamber responds.
Light races along the carved symbols, following pathways etched into the stone that connect every mirror to every other mirror in an intricate web of silver lines. The mirrors themselves begin to glow softly around their edges, not reflecting my image but something deeper. Something waiting.
“Oh,” I breathe.
I take a step toward the nearest ring of mirrors, and the Ether around me surges like a breaking wave.
The first mirror I approach shows my reflection — but different. The girl looking back at me has the same face, the same dark hair, the same green eyes. But she stands straighter. Looks more certain. There’s no fear in her expression, no hesitation.
She looks like someone who knows exactly who she is.
“Riley,” I whisper, and the name echoes in the chamber like recognition.
The mirror ripples at the sound, and I swear she moves independently. Her head tilts as she meets my eyes directly. My reflection isn’t mine anymore.
“Finally,” she says, her voice carrying across the chamber like she’s standing right next to me instead of trapped behind glass. “I was beginning to think you’d never find me.”
My knees nearly buckle. “You’re real. This is real.”
“As real as you are.” She speaks, pressing hand against the inside of the mirror. “Though I suppose that’s relative, isn’t it? You’re there, I’m here, and between us is… well. Everything.”
“I don’t understand.” The words tumble out. “What is this place? What happened here? What am I supposed to do?”
Riley’s expression softens with something that might be sympathy. “You really don’t know, do you? They kept you in the dark about everything.”
Above us, I can hear footsteps on the stairs. Careful, cautious, but coming nonetheless. Part of me wants to call out, tell them to stay back, that this moment feels too fragile for witnesses.
But another part — a larger part — knows that whatever happens next, I want them here. I want them to see.
“They’re important to you,” Riley says, and there’s something wistful in her voice. “I can feel them.”
“They are.” The words come out easier than I expect. “They matter.”
“Even the ones who scare you? Even the ones you’re not sure you can trust?”
Images flash through my mind — Thane’s silver eyes going soft when he thinks no one is looking, Stellan’s careful distance that somehow feels like protection, the way Wes looks at me like I’m something precious and breakable and worth saving.
“Especially them,” I say quietly.
Riley smiles. “Good. That matters more than you know.”
Behind me, I hear Rhett’s voice: “Bree? Everything okay down there?”
“Come down,” I call back, not taking my eyes off Riley. “All of you. I think… I think you need to see this too.”
The sound of multiple footsteps echoes down the stairs, and I can feel the exact moment when each of them sees the chamber. Jace goes silent. Gray mutters a curse. Wes’s soft “Holy shit.”
And from Thane, though I can barely hear him: “The mirrors are intact.”
Stellan says, even quieter: “But look at the floor.”
I follow his gaze and see them — small piles of ash scattered across the chamber floor, each one positioned in front of a mirror. Some mirrors have no ash at all, others have multiple piles, like someone arranged them deliberately.
The ash looks like it’s been sitting here untouched for centuries.
“What is that?” I ask, but no one answers.
“Bree.” Thane’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp with something that might be fear. “Step back from the mirrors.”
“Now,” Stellan adds, and there’s an edge to his usual composure that makes my skin prickle. “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever’s calling to you — resist it.”
I look between them, startled by the urgency in their voices. “What? Why? What’s wrong?”
They spread out around the outer edge of the chamber, but instead of the awed silence I expected, there’s tension crackling between them. Rhett’s hands are clenched, ready for a fight while Gray looks like he wants to physically drag me away from the mirrors.
But it’s the look on Thane and Stellan’s faces that really gets to me. I’ve never seen either of them scared before. And they are definitely scared right now.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask.
Thane and Stellan exchange a look, and I see something pass between them. A decision.
“This place has a history,” Stellan says carefully. “People have tried… the Oath. It didn’t end well.”
“Those ash piles,” Thane adds, his voice tight, “are from people who tried… and failed.”
“What?” The word comes out sharp. “What oath? What are you talking about?”
“People who tried to use the mirrors without understanding what they were doing,” Stellan says. “Without having what was needed.”
“The chamber responded to you,” Gray says quietly from behind me. “The lights, the symbols — none of that happened when Theo and Seth found this place.”
“You brought them,” Riley says, approval clear in her voice. “Good.”
But I can feel the fear still radiating from Thane and Stellan now, the way they’re watching every movement of my Ether with barely contained panic.
Riley’s voice carries across the chamber again, softer now. “This is the first time in centuries this chamber has come awake. The first time the mirrors have responded to anyone.”
I turn back to look at Riley. “What does that mean?”
“It means you have what they didn’t,” she says simply. “What they were all missing.”
Riley studies me for a long moment, then glances at the others behind me. “Not here. Not yet. There are things you need to know first. Questions that need answers.”
“But you’re here. Can’t you just tell me?”
“Some knowledge has to come from the living world.” Riley’s smile turns gentle. “From people who chose to trust you with the truth. But I can tell you this much — when the time comes, the choice will be yours alone. And whatever you choose will be right.”
“What choice? What are you talking about?”
Riley’s expression grows sad. “Ask them. They know more than they’ve told you.” Her eyes flick to Thane and Stellan. “Don’t they?”
The mirror begins to dim slightly, and I feel a flutter of panic.
“Don’t go,” I say quickly. “I just found you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Riley presses her hand to the glass again. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. When you understand what you’re choosing.”
The light in the mirror fades until it shows only my own reflection again. But something has changed. The girl looking back at me isn’t perfect or certain or unafraid. But she’s not broken either. She’s just… me. Real and flawed and that’s okay.
I turn back to face the guys, still shaken by everything that just happened. Riley’s words echo in my head, and I can feel the weight of all the questions I don’t have answers to.
I look at Thane, then Stellan. “We need to talk.” My eyes sweep over the rest of them. “All of us.”
“So,” Jace says, voice rough with emotion he’s trying to hide behind humor. “How about those we-made-it-out-alive pancakes? We’ve earned it.”
I shoot him a look.
“Fine. Pancakes and explanations. Now.”