39. Bree
Bree
The courtyard settles into quiet murmurs as we approach the sanctuary doors.
Scarred, blackened at the edges—like something tried to burn through from the inside.
The doors swing open before we reach them.
Three Feeders step out—exhausted, wary, but unarmed. They glance at me, then at the freed crowd still touching their throats, still testing their freedom.
One bows his head. The others follow.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For staying.”
The oldest one—gray-haired, face lined with years I can’t count—meets my eyes. “What would you like us to do… the ones who are staying?”
I smile, though it feels fragile. “Whatever you want. Rest. Eat. Take the Oath, if you wish.”
I hesitate, the next words harder to say. “Please pass along that we believe the Counsel will be here in a few days. I understand if some choose to leave before then.”
His eyes flicker—gratitude mixed with relief. He nods once, then turns back toward the courtyard to relay the message.
I watch him go, the weight of leadership settling over my shoulders again. But softer this time.
They’re not following orders.
They’re choosing.
Rhett’s hand finds the small of my back, steadying. “Ready? ”
I nod, even though I’m not sure.
We move toward the open doors—all of us together. Riley hangs back with Zira, still uncertain of her place.
The moment I step inside, I stop.
The hall is wrong.
Obsidian walls stretch before us, black and polished like glass. Silver flame flickers in sconces that weren’t there before, casting shadows that move wrong. The floor is smooth stone—dark, endless, reflecting nothing.
Just like the Void.
Just like his chamber.
My chest locks. I can’t breathe.
The air is thick with the residue of Ethos and Riley’s power—corrupted, clinging, reshaping the sanctuary into something that looks like the place I was kept.
Every surface pulses faintly, like a heartbeat that’s forgotten its rhythm.
This was supposed to be home .
The Ether inside me surges before I can stop it—silver mist rippling outward, brushing across corrupted stone.
The sanctuary responds.
Too fast. Too much.
My knees buckle.
Rhett is there instantly, heat at my back, an arm at my waist. “I’ve got you.”
But the Ether doesn’t stop.
It spreads like water finding cracks—soft, deliberate, unstoppable. Silver light flows over every surface they twisted .
The black crystal melts back into living stone.
Light floods through windows that had been dark.
Vines turn green along the arches, curling upward like they’re waking from a long sleep.
The air warms, filling with the scent of clean earth and daisy pollen.
I can barely breathe through the exhaustion pulling at my edges, but I feel it—the sanctuary remembering what it was meant to be.
Behind us, gasps rise from the courtyard—the silver already climbing the outer walls.
Rhett’s grip tightens as I sway again. “You need to sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
He’s right. I’m not.
My legs are shaking, my hands trembling, and the Ether is still pulsing faintly around me like it’s not done yet.
Footsteps approach from the side hall.
I look up.
Mairen.
Her apron is still damp, tears shining on her cheeks, but she’s smiling—really smiling—as she crosses the restored hall toward us.
“Bless you, sweetheart,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “Come, sit. You all look half-starved.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, just takes my hand and starts leading us deeper into the sanctuary. Rhett keeps his arm around my waist, supporting most of my weight as we follow.
The kitchen appears ahead—warm light spilling through windows that weren’t there before. Or maybe they were, and I just couldn’t see them under all the corruption .
The room smells like home. Like bread and herbs and the clean bite of morning.
Mairen pulls out a chair, guiding me into it with gentle insistence. “Sit. All of you. I’ll make something.”
Gray and Rhett move to the stove without being asked, carrying in wood from the stack by the door. Wes starts clearing space on the counter. Jace raids the cupboard with practiced mischief, pulling down mugs and jars like he’s done a hundred times before.
Thane lingers in the doorway, watching the sunlight spill across the kitchen floor like he doesn’t quite trust it yet.
Mairen presses a mug into my hands—something steaming and sweet that smells like honey and warmth.
“You did right by us, child,” she says quietly, brushing hair back from my face. “That’s enough for today.”
My throat tightens. “Not enough. But it’s a start.”
She smiles, soft and knowing. “Starts are all we get. The rest comes after.”
I take a sip, letting the warmth spread through my chest, chasing back some of the exhaustion.
Footsteps in the hall.
Riley and Zira appear in the doorway, hesitant.
Mairen gasps, the mug in her hand trembling. Her eyes lock on Riley—on the face that wore mine, that gave the orders, that put collars on her family.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, standing despite the exhaustion. I cross to Mairen, taking her hand. “She… she was being used. Just like I was. ”
Mairen’s breath shakes, but she nods slowly. Her gaze shifts between Riley and me, seeing the differences now—the black and silver Ether threaded through Riley’s fingers, the exhaustion in her eyes that mirrors my own.
“I’m sorry,” Riley whispers from the doorway. “For everything.”
Mairen doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t look away either.
The moment stretches, taut and fragile.
Then Mairen turns back to the stove, her shoulders still tight but her voice steady. “Well. I suppose we’ll all need feeding then.”
Riley’s breath catches—relief and gratitude tangled together.
She and Zira move into the kitchen carefully, taking seats at the far end of the table where they can see everyone but aren’t in the way.
Mairen busies herself with pots and spoons, then pauses, glancing back at me. “Oh—your band of misfits arrived while you were… occupied. They’re already getting settled in the back of the sanctuary.”
My chest warms. “They made it.”
“All of them,” she confirms. “Loud bunch, but good-hearted.”
Around me, the guys settle into the kitchen like they belong here. Rhett leans against the counter beside me, close enough to catch me if I fall again. Gray stands near the window, watching the courtyard. Theo pulls out a chair across from me, eyes clearer than they’ve been in days.
Wes sits beside me, quiet but present. Jace perches on the edge of the counter, swinging his legs. Seth stays near the door, silent as always. Stellan examines the restored stonework with something like approval.
Even Thane eventually moves from the doorway, taking a seat at the far end of the table where he can see everyone .
The kitchen fills with the sounds of life returning—mugs clinking, quiet conversation, Mairen humming under her breath as she works.
I look toward the doorway where sunlight spills across the floor, proof that the sanctuary has begun to heal.
Outside, through the window, I catch a glimpse of the garden—daisies blooming wider, vines climbing the walls, color returning to earth that had been gray.
The heart of the sanctuary beats again.
And somewhere beyond these walls, the Counsel is coming.
But for now—just for now—we’re home.