39. Jax
JAX
Itoss and turn, the sheets winding around my legs. Sleep isn’t coming. My eyes are heavy, but every time I close them, the darkness behind my lids turns into that council chamber. Or the image of those black veins crawling up Nyv’s arm.
“You’re radiating nerves, Jax,” my father’s voice rumbles in the back of my mind.
“Yeah,” I mutter into my pillow. “Can’t sleep. And I’m worried about Brynn. Haven’t seen her recently. Not even in the dining hall.”
I was going to check on her in the morning, but I don’t think I can wait any longer. I’m just wasting time lying here anyway.
“I’m gonna go look for her.”
“Good idea,” my dad says, and I sense his nerves strung tight like mine.
I swing my legs off the bed, then shove on my boots and a hoodie, not bothering to check the time. Around here, time has started to feel irrelevant anyway.
The corridors are silent, bathed in the pale glow of the intermittent wall-lamps. I move quickly, my shadow stretching long and distorted against the stone. When I reach the girls’ dorm wing, I don’t even hesitate. I’ve been to Brynn’s room enough times to find it in the dark.
I knock softly at first, then harder. “Brynn? It’s Jax. Open up.”
No answer. I try the handle, expecting it to be locked—Brynn is the queen of personal boundaries—but the latch clicks and the door swings inward.
The room is dark. It smells like old paper and the faint, citrusy tea she drinks, but it feels empty.
Cold. I flick the light on. Her bed is made neatly, the pillows plumped.
My eyes scan her desk, usually piled high with open manuscripts.
In the center of the blotter sits a single piece of parchment. I pick it up.
“I’m depressed and please respect my privacy. Do not look for me. - B.”
I frown. What? Something’s definitely… off.
“Check the family house,” my dad says. “Maybe she’s there or Mom knows where she is.”
I’m back in the hallway a moment later. I move at a run, and manage to reach our lodge in the woods fifteen minutes later.
I’ve forgotten my key but slip out the spare one hidden beneath the large plant pot on the porch. I move through the house and it’s quickly clear that it’s empty too.
“The infirmary,” Dad says. “Mom might be working late.”
I head back out, my pulse quickening, the night air biting at my face. I sprint through the dark undergrowth, the damp leaves slick under my boots. I’m taking the shortcut through the dense heart of the woods, where the shadows are thickest, but I’m not as alone as I hoped.
Two massive, shaggy shapes explode from behind a cluster of ancient birches, cutting off my path.
I skid to a halt, heels digging into the mud.
Soren and Callum. In the moonlight, their wolf forms are intimidating, to say the least—hulking, four-legged predators with thick, matted fur and burning eyes.
They’re deep in the shift, their muscles corded and powerful, their fangs bared in a territorial snarl.
“Hey, guys, sorry! Can’t stop to talk now!” I shout, already pivoting before they can close the distance.
Soren lets out a guttural, huffing sound—half-growl, half-warning—but I don’t give them the chance to corner me.
I lunge to the right, using a low-hanging branch to swing my weight around a trunk, vaulting over a tangle of briars that would catch a less desperate guy.
I don’t look back. I keep moving, scrambling up a rocky embankment, my fingers clawing at the dirt, and burst back onto the main gravel path leading toward the coven’s medical wing.
“Good work,” my dad can’t help but comment.
I burst out of the treeline, the stone silhouette of the infirmary looming through the mist. I don’t even slow down as I reach the doors, slamming my shoulder into them and bursting into the sterile air of the lobby.
“Mom?” I call, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
The quiet that greets me feels heavier than the dark outside.
I move from ward to ward, looking for her, and finally spot her in the last recovery ward on the ground floor.
And Brynn is here too.
She’s lying in a bed, her dark hair fanned out against the white pillow. She looks like she’s sleeping. Sitting in a chair beside her is our mother.
I hurry over, and Mom looks up.
I’m relieved to see her, but as I get closer, the light of the infirmary catches her eyes, and I notice the dark flickers in her irises.
I stare at her, my throat going dry. I’m not sure if it’s fully her looking back at me.
Dad’s presence intensifies in my mind, a wave of complex emotions washing through me—concern for his wife, worry for his daughter.
“Mom?” I approach cautiously. “What happened to Brynn?”
She looks up at me, and her expression softens in a way that feels genuine, though the shadows in her eyes linger.
“Jax,” she says, her voice sounding mostly like herself.
“Dominic brought her here. She hasn’t been handling things very well with her Ide.
Been fighting against it quite extremely.
It doesn’t help that she apparently hasn’t had a single lesson with Burr yet.
Gods know what she’s been doing… Dominic thought she needed some gentle therapy, to assist her integration. ”
I move closer to Brynn’s bed, studying her pale face. “Therapy? This looks more like… sedation. Is she asleep or drugged?”
“Dominic gave her a mild sedative, to calm her down. I’m going to wake her in a few minutes.”
I pull up a seat on the opposite side of the bed. “What kind of therapy are we talking about? And why exactly? Why not just send her to Burr’s classes?”
Mom exhales. “That would be ideal, but Brynn’s stubborn. And evasive. I’m not pinning all my hopes on it.”
“Why not just leave her alone then? Let her do what she wants, acclimate in her own time. Or not. Why do we all need to be forced into this?”
Mom holds my gaze across the bed, clenching her jaw.
“The Ides are our new reality, Jax, whether we like it or not. Everyone needs to bear their share of the burden. Like paying taxes. Everyone has to contribute to maintain the collective power that protects us. The spirit grid has never been stronger, but it requires all of us to participate.”
I feel Dad’s attention sharpen at her words.
“There have been reports,” she continues, her voice lowering, “that the dragons are regrouping. Planning something new. And the clearbloods...” Her jaw tightens.
“Intel indicates they’re developing strategies we haven’t seen before.
Agents are currently gathering intelligence, but the situation is not something we can ignore. ”
“Hence we need the Ides,” I mutter, not bothering to hide my skepticism.
“Without them, we wouldn’t be here,” Mom says grimly. She reaches for a small vial on the bedside table. “They’re the only reason we haven’t been wiped out already.”
I watch as she uncorks the vial, containing some kind of silvery liquid. I hate this—being dependent on ancient spirits whose agendas we barely understand.
Mom gently lifts Brynn’s head, tipping the liquid between her lips. Almost immediately, Brynn’s eyelids flutter, and she gasps awake, her eyes wild with panic.
“No!” she cries, trying to sit up. “I don’t want it! Keep it out!”
“Brynn, calm down,” Mom says, placing firm hands on her shoulders. “You’re safe.”
“Where’s Chad?” Brynn demands, her gaze darting around the room frantically. “He was there—he tried to help me! Where is he?”
I exchange a confused look with Mom. “Chad? Chad Valgrave? What’s he got to do with this?”
But Brynn isn’t listening to me. She’s struggling against Mom’s grip. “They took me! I need to find him, he’s not safe either!”
“Nobody knows where Chad is,” Mom says soothingly, reaching for another small container on the table. She dips her fingers into what looks like a pale blue balm and begins to spread it across Brynn’s forehead. “You need to focus on yourself right now.”
The effect is almost immediate. Brynn’s movements slow, her breathing becomes less frantic, though the fear doesn’t leave her eyes.
“Listen to me, Brynn,” Mom says, her voice gentle but firm. “You don’t need to go to war with your Ide. It’s not about giving up control completely. It’s about finding balance.”
Brynn shakes her head. “You don’t understand what it wants...”
“I do,” Mom insists. “The Ides want to exist again, to feel free, to live—but they’re also willing to help us. We have to find a balance.”
I bite my lip, wondering if Mom was aware, after all, of the meeting her body took part in earlier. Before I can decide whether to ask her, Brynn mumbles, “It’s not balance. It’s invasion!”
“It feels that way because you’re treating this like a battle,” Mom continues. “You need to think of it more like dancing with a partner. If you both try to lead, you’ll just step on each other’s feet. But if you learn to move together...”
I watch this exchange with a sense of unease. Mom’s words make sense, but I don’t like how bought in she is already to this whole thing… even though I know we have no choice right now.
“Try to relax, just a little,” Mom urges, applying more of the balm. “Just enough to give your Ide a bit of breathing room. There’s a middle ground, Brynn.”
As I watch my mother try to convince my sister to lower her defenses against an ancient spirit, I feel a strange shift inside me. Dad’s presence suddenly surges forward. I feel him reaching for control, and I don’t resist.
“Marie,” I suddenly find myself saying.
My mom freezes, looking at me with a frown. I have probably never once, in my life, called her Marie.
“Huh?” she says.
“Marie,” I find myself repeating. My mouth moves, but the word feels foreign on my tongue.
“It’s me,” my voice continues, softer now, carrying an inflection I never use. “Theodore.”
Mom’s hand freezes on Brynn’s forehead.
“Jax,” she says, “this isn’t funny.”
“It’s not a joke,” I hear myself saying. “I’m… inside, Marie. I’ve been here since he was brought back.”