Chapter 42
Bree
Air. Now.
The garden hits me like a slap—cool and sharp against my flushed skin. But it doesn't help. Nothing's going to help the way my hands are still shaking from that moment in the hallway.
"You shouldn't touch me like that if you don't mean it."
Thane's voice keeps echoing in my head, rough and raw and nothing like his usual controlled tone. The way his silver eyes went dark when I brushed past him, like I'd lit something on fire that he'd been trying to keep buried.
God, I'm such an idiot.
Because the worst part isn't that I didn't mean it. The worst part is that I absolutely did, and now I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if I hadn't walked away.
I don't even know who I am most days. How could I possibly know what I want? It can't be that simple—just touch someone and suddenly understand something fundamental about yourself. But standing there in that hallway, feeling his magic respond to mine...
For a second, it felt like the easiest thing in the world.
The Ether swirls around my feet as I walk, agitated silver mist that acts just how I'm feeling inside. I need space. Distance from the sanctuary's warm walls and the guys' careful attention and the weight of expectations I never asked for.
Something glints near the base of the old oak tree—metal catching what little moonlight filters through the leaves. I kneel and push aside a tangle of vines, fingers closing around something that makes my skin crawl the second I touch it.
A hand mirror.
The frame is tarnished silver, but not in a normal way.
It's all twisted curves and spirals that flow up into sharp points like horns or antlers.
The metal should be dirty after lying in the garden dirt, covered in rust or moss.
Instead, it's pristine. Like someone just polished it and set it down five minutes ago.
I lift it to see it better in the moonlight, and my breath catches.
For just a moment—maybe three seconds—my eyes in the reflection glow deep red.
Not reflecting light, but actually glowing from within like embers.
The sight makes my stomach lurch, but I can't look away.
Then they fade to black. Completely black.
No iris, no pupil, just endless dark that seems to swallow light.
What the fuck?!
I jerk the mirror away from my face, heart hammering.
When I force myself to look again, normal green eyes stare back at me.
But everything else is still wrong. My reflection wavers like I'm looking at myself through water, edges blurring and shifting.
Like there are two versions of me trying to occupy the same space and failing.
The mist swirls closer when I keep staring, silver tendrils reaching toward the mirror's surface with something that feels like curiosity. But cautious curiosity. Like it recognizes something I don't.
It's just a trick of the light, I tell myself. Just some random piece of junk someone dropped.
But I pocket it anyway, because leaving it feels wrong even though keeping it feels worse.
"You always wander off alone when the moon's this high?"
I spin toward the voice, heart hammering. Seth steps out from the tree line, hands visible and expression concerned rather than threatening. He keeps his distance, respecting the space between us.
"You startled me," I say, pressing a hand to my chest.
"Sorry. I saw you out here and thought you might need company." His voice is warm, actually apologetic. "Or backup, depending on what kind of night you're having."
I can't help but smile a little. "The kind where I need to walk off some really stupid decisions before I make even worse ones."
"Ah. One of those." Seth nods like he gets it completely. "Want to talk about it, or should I just walk quietly and be confused from a safe distance?"
There's something refreshing about how straightforward he is. No careful probing, no trying to read my emotions through magical intuition. Just a simple offer I can take or leave.
"People," I say finally. "Complicated people making everything way more complicated than it needs to be."
"Nobody tells you what happens when you get power you never asked for," Seth says quietly. "How suddenly everyone has opinions about what you should do with it. Who you should trust. How you should feel about everything."
He's right—everyone does have opinions. About my magic, my choices, whether I'm safe. Even when they mean well, it feels like drowning in other people's certainty about my life. But he gets it.
"Exactly." The word comes out like a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Sometimes I just want to make one normal decision without everyone analyzing it for hidden dangers."
Seth takes a step closer, slow and unthreatening. "Must be hard, learning to trust yourself when everyone else thinks they know better."
That's when I notice something weird. The mist that's been swirling around my feet since I left the house suddenly goes completely still. Not pulling away from Seth, not reaching toward him either. Just... stopping. Like it's holding its breath.
I glance down, puzzled by the sudden calm, but Seth's voice draws my attention back.
"What's that?" he asks, nodding at my pocket where the mirror's outline shows.
"Just some old mirror. Probably fell out of someone's stuff." I pull it out, turning the creepy frame over in my hands. Under the moonlight, those twisted horn-things look even worse. "Found it buried under the vines."
Seth stares at it way longer than seems normal. Something shifts in his expression—like he recognizes it.
"That's a dangerous thing to find in a place like this."
"It's just a mirror."
"Is it?" His voice goes oddly casual. Too casual. "Not everything that shows you a reflection tells you the truth. Some mirrors show you what you want to see. Others show you what someone else wants you to see."
The mist around my feet flickers, going dim like a candle in the wind.
Ice runs down my spine. There's something in the way he says it—like he knows exactly what this thing is and what it does.
"What do you mean by that?"
Seth glances toward the tree line for just a second—quick, like he's checking something. When he looks back, his expression is perfectly pleasant again.
"Just old stories. Places like this, they collect things. Not all of them friendly."
But before he can answer, the sanctuary door slams open with enough force to echo across the garden.
Theo bursts out, breathless and wild-eyed, scanning the darkness until his gaze locks onto us. Something passes across his face—relief, then recognition, then pure alarm.
He's running before I can call out to him, feet pounding across the gravel path.
"Get away from her!" he shouts, voice cracking with urgency.
I stumble backward, startled by the raw panic in his voice. Seth raises his hands, stepping back with calm surprise, but Theo doesn't slow down.
He reaches us in seconds, putting himself between me and Seth with protective fury written across every line of his body.
"Theo, what—"
"Don't," he says, not taking his eyes off Seth. "Something's wrong. I saw—" He swallows hard, chest heaving. "I had a vision. You're in danger."
My heart pounds against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my system as I look between them. Seth's expression is carefully neutral, confused but not angry. Theo's is desperate, certain, afraid.
And in my pocket, the mirror feels suddenly, impossibly heavy.
Like it's been waiting for this moment all along.