9. Wes
Wes
The corridor of mirrors stretches before us, endless and identical. Each one gleams in the dim light, their surfaces rippling like disturbed water. The hunger hums low under my skin, restless. I’ve never felt magic like this—thick enough to taste, thin enough to starve on.
Why didn’t it feel like this in the Ashen Oath Chamber?
The sight makes my chest tighten with something close to recognition.
I’ve seen this before. In Bree’s memories, bleeding through the bond when she was trapped while we wandered through this place trying to find her. In Seth’s fragmented accounts of how he found his way out. I never told the others. I couldn’t. I needed something just for me in the endless darkness.
“They’re all the same,” Jace mutters beside me, his hand tight on one of his blades. “How the hell are we supposed to know which one—”
“That one.”
Stellan’s voice cuts through the murmur of unease. He’s stopped ahead of us, staring at a mirror with an ornate frame carved with twisting horns that curve inward like a crown.
The horned mirror. Bree’s.
My throat goes tight. I can feel it even from here—the faint hum of her Ether clinging to the glass like perfume that won’t fade. It smells like her. Vanilla and something that makes my chest ache .
“That’s the one Seth came through,” Stellan says quietly. His gray eyes are fixed on the mirror. “The one we found her standing in front of that morning.”
Rhett moves forward, drawn like we all are. “So we go through that one.”
But the familiars glide past it without stopping.
My chest tightens—wrong, that’s wrong—but they keep moving, deeper into the corridor. Their shadow-forms flow like water around the base of Bree’s mirror and continue down the row.
“Wait.” Theo’s hand shoots out, catching Rhett’s arm. “They’re not stopping.”
The familiars pause several mirrors down. Their shapes thicken, almost solid, like they’re waiting for us to catch up.
“Why aren’t they taking us through hers?” Jace’s voice is tight with suspicion. “If that’s her mirror, why—”
“Because she’s here,” Stellan says, his gaze shifting to where Bree lies unconscious against Gray’s back. “They’re taking us somewhere else. Somewhere safe.”
Thane steps forward, his silver eyes narrowing as he studies the familiars. “They’re following something. An instruction.”
“From her?” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
“She’s alive.” Theo’s words are certain. “The familiars are hers. They wouldn’t lead us wrong.”
The familiars pulse once—impatient—and drift closer to the mirror they’ve chosen. It looks identical to all the others. No horns, no ornamentation. Just smooth glass reflecting our exhausted, filthy faces .
My hunger twists, sharpening. I can feel the pull of the mirror the familiars chose, but it’s different from Bree’s. Her mirror hums with silver light, with warmth. This one feels neutral. Like a doorway rather than a destination.
Stellan’s gaze cuts to me, sharp. For a moment I think he’ll argue. Then he nods once. “They’re hers. They won’t lead us wrong.”
Thane moves first, stepping up to the mirror. His hand hovers over the glass, and I watch his jaw tighten as he makes contact. The surface ripples outward from his palm, liquid and impossible.
“Together,” he says. Not a command. A vow.
Rhett’s hand lands on my shoulder. Jace crowds close on my other side. Gray adjusts his grip on Bree. Theo flanks us. Stellan brings up the rear. The familiars dissolve into shadow, pouring through the glass ahead of us.
Thane steps through first.
Then Rhett.
Then me.
The mirror takes me like water closing over my head. Cold but weightless, and disorienting. For one terrible moment I can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t feel anything except the pressure bearing down on my chest—
Then I stumble forward into warmth and light and sound.
My knees hit polished wood. My hands catch on something soft—carpet, thick and expensive. Music drifts from somewhere, elegant and unfamiliar, layered with laughter and the clink of glass.
I blink hard, trying to orient myself. We’re not in the Oath Chamber. We’re not in the sanctuary at all.
We’re in someone’s home .
A grand one. The kind that makes the sanctuary look like a ruin by comparison. Vaulted ceilings painted with murals of stars and moons. Chandeliers dripping with crystal. Furniture that looks like it costs more than most people earn in a lifetime.
And standing in the center of it all, wine glass in hand and a smile that could cut glass, is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
He’s tall, close to Thane’s height, built like sin wrapped in silk.
Golden skin and dark hair that falls in artful waves to his shoulders.
He’s dressed in deep purple silk that shimmers when he moves, cut to show off a body that’s both elegant and dangerous.
His eyes are amber, bright with amusement and something sharper.
Feeder.
The recognition hits me in a way I can’t describe. I can feel what he is the way I feel my own hunger—the pull of it, the shape of his magic curling through the air like smoke.
Incubus-class.
He takes a slow sip of his wine, utterly unbothered by the fact that seven armed, filthy strangers, a massive wolf, and an unconscious woman just fell out of his mirror.
His gaze lands on Bree immediately. The amusement drains from his face.
“Well,” he says, his voice rich but suddenly serious. “This is a surprise.” He sets his wine glass down with careful precision. “You’re early.”
Jace scrambles to his feet, blades already in hand. “Who the hell—”
“Ah-ah.” The man raises one finger, and Jace’s words die in his throat. Not magic, exactly. Just presence. Command wrapped in velvet. “Manners, darling. You’re in my home.” His amber eyes never leave Bree. “And you’ve brought her.”
Gray’s ears flatten back, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he shifts his body protectively over Bree.
“Oh, but you did.” The man’s voice has gone softer. “Though I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you quite so soon. Or in this condition.” His gaze shifts past us, to where shadows pool in the corner. “Well done.”
The familiars pulse once.
Theo steps forward, his brown eyes already distant with whatever he’s Seeing. After a moment, his shoulders relax. “You’re not lying.”
“I rarely do.” The man smiles faintly. “Lying is so tedious. The truth is far more interesting.” His amber eyes sweep over Bree’s unconscious form again, and something that might be pain flickers across his face. “My god. What did they do to her?”
“Who are you?” Rhett’s voice is tight with barely leashed aggression.
“Lord Auren Vale,” he says with a shallow bow, tone dripping with practiced charm. He tears his gaze away from Bree with visible effort. “And you, my unexpected guests, are very far from where you meant to be.” His amber eyes sweep over us. “Though perhaps exactly where you need to be.”
Stellan moves to stand beside Thane, his gray eyes sharp. “You know who we are.”
“Of course I do.” Auren’s voice is still distracted, his attention drawn back to Bree. “Everyone knows who you are. The Source’s chosen. Her bonded.” His gaze lands on me, and I feel it like a touch. His eyebrows lift suggestively. “Her lovers. ”
My breath catches. The way he looks at me—like he recognizes something. What I am. What I’m becoming.
“You’re one too,” I say quietly.
Auren’s expression softens slightly. “Incubus-class, like you. Though I’ve had a few more centuries to perfect the craft.” He glances at Stellan, one elegant eyebrow raised. “Unlike your mentor here, I don’t starve myself out of misplaced nobility.”
Stellan’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes.
“She needs help.” Rhett’s voice cracks. “Now.”
Auren’s attention snaps fully to Rhett, and the playful mask drops completely. “Yes. She does.” He moves forward with purpose. “Bring her. I have healers on staff, and rooms prepared.” He pauses, his amber eyes meeting each of ours in turn. “I’ve been waiting for her. For all of you.”
“Waiting?” Thane’s voice is clipped. Suspicious. “What do you mean, waiting?”
“I mean,” Auren says carefully, “that when a Source awakens after centuries of silence, and then vanishes, people notice. And some of those people…” He pauses. “Some of us choose to care. To prepare.”
“How did you know she vanished?” Thane’s voice is sharp.
Auren’s amber eyes meet his. “Because whoever is playing her part is awful at it.” His gaze sweeps over us. “And when all of you disappeared all at once shortly after? That confirmed it. The real Source wouldn’t have let you go without her.”
My chest tightens.
Theo’s eyes refocus on him. After a long moment, he nods. “He’s telling the truth. He’s… on our side. ”
“How convenient,” Jace mutters.
Auren’s smile flickers back, brief and sharp.
“Oh, I like you. You’ll fit right in.” His expression sobers as he looks at Bree again.
“But your friend is right. I’ve been helping organize resistance efforts since your girl first appeared.
Preparing for the moment she’d need sanctuary.
” His voice drops. “Please. Let me help her. Then we’ll talk. ”
“One of your people comes near her,” Rhett says quietly, “and I burn this place to the ground.”
“Fair enough.” Auren doesn’t look offended. “Then I’ll tend her myself. I’m quite skilled at healing, actually.” He gestures toward a sweeping staircase. “This way. Quickly.”
Gray moves forward, Bree still unconscious on his back. Auren leads us up the stairs, through hallways lined with mirrors and art, until he stops before a set of double doors.
“The guest wing,” he says, pushing them open. “Six bedrooms, all connected to a central sitting room. And this one—” He opens another door, revealing a room that’s all soft light and cream-colored silk. “This one is hers.”
Gray moves into the room without hesitation, standing next to the bed, waiting for one of us to move her. Rhett carefully moves Bree onto the bed with a gentleness that makes my chest ache. She looks so small against the white sheets. So still.
Auren moves to the bedside, his earlier playfulness completely gone. “What happened to her?”
“The Void,” Thane says flatly. “She’s been there for… we don’t know how long. ”
“And the corruption?” Auren’s fingers hover over Bree’s arm, where black veins spider beneath her skin. “This isn’t just Void exposure. This is active feeding.”
My stomach drops. “We suspected.”
“Someone’s been feeding on her.” Auren’s voice is grim. “Consistently. For a while.” His amber eyes lift to meet mine. “This is what we look like when we take too much, too often. This is starvation dressed as consumption.”
“Can you help her?” Thane’s voice is barely human.
Auren nods slowly. “Yes. But it will take time. Her body needs rest, nutrition, and most importantly—” His gaze shifts to me, then Stellan, then Thane. “She needs to feed. Not give. Take.”
“We’re Feeders,” Thane says. “We don’t—”
“She’s Source.” Auren cuts him off. “Her Ether is like a living thing. Right now it’s starving because she’s been drained dry.
If she’s bonded to you—” His eyes narrow.
“And I can feel that she is—then you need to let her draw through those connections. Your emotions, your vitality, your love. Her Ether will know what to take.”
The room goes silent.
“How?” My voice comes out rough. Desperate.
Auren’s expression gentles. “Be near her. Let your bonds open. Let her feel your presence, your emotions, your—” He pauses. “Your love. If she’s as powerful as I think she is, her Ether will do the rest.”
His gaze shifts to the massive bed that dominates the room, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “Why do you think a tiny woman needs a bed that size?”
The implication settles over us like a weight.
“What do you need from us?” Rhett asks .
“Right now? Nothing.” Auren moves toward the door.
“I’m going to have food and water brought up.
Clean clothes. Medical supplies. You’re going to stay near her, sleep next to her.
” His amber eyes are serious. “And then, when she wakes, we’re going to figure out how to keep her alive long enough to end the bastard who did this to her. ”
He pauses in the doorway, looking back at Bree’s still form.
“She’s going to need you whole when she wakes,” he says quietly. “Not broken. So rest. Heal. Prepare.” His voice drops. “Because whoever trapped her in the Void? They’re not going to let her go easily.”
Then he’s gone, leaving us alone with Bree and the weight of everything we almost lost.
I sink onto the bed next to her, my hand finding hers beneath the sheets. Her skin is cold. Too cold.
But her pulse beats steady beneath my fingers.
Warming as my skin begins to tingle everywhere we touch.
She’s feeding.
I smile, laying back. I can finally rest knowing she’s here. Alive.
That I’m doing something to protect her.
Because she’s everything.