Chapter 7
Rhett
She’s awake.
She’s crying. Talking. Reaching for the others.
She’s alive.
The fire in my hands flickers back to life—not wild, not uncontrolled. Steady. Like it’s syncing with her heartbeat.
I watch Stellan hold her. Watch her melt into him, exhausted and tear-streaked and so goddamn beautiful it hurts to look at her.
Even like this. Especially like this.
I almost lost her.
The thought keeps looping. Won’t stop. My fire went out. My hands shook. I put two fingers on her wrist and felt nothing and I thought—
I can’t think about what I thought.
I step forward.
Stellan sees me coming. His arms tighten around her for half a second—instinct, maybe, or reluctance—but when I rest my hand on his arm, something passes between us. Understanding. He releases her slowly.
I gather her into my chest.
She’s warm. Breathing. Here.
My arms wrap around her so tight I’m probably hurting her, but I can’t make myself loosen my grip. She doesn’t fight it. Just sinks into me, her face pressed against my shoulder, her hands fisting in the back of my shirt.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
The words come out rough. Barely above a whisper.
She laughs. Wet. Broken. “I know.”
“Don’t do that again.”
“I’ll try.”
I press my forehead to hers. Close my eyes. Let myself have this one moment where she’s safe and whole and mine.
Then I pass her to Gray.
He takes her like she’s made of glass, but I see his shoulders shake when she wraps her arms around his neck. I turn away before I have to watch anyone else cry.
The battlefield is still.
I scan it properly for the first time since the blast. The courtyard is wrecked—scorched earth, silver ash, bodies scattered like broken toys. The veins that used to pulse through the ground are gone. Just empty channels where power used to live.
And the Feeders.
All of them. Ours and theirs. Standing in the wreckage like they’ve forgotten how to move.
The Council-bound ones look the worst—disoriented, blinking, some of them clutching their heads like they’re fighting off a hangover. The compulsion that held them must have snapped when Ethos did.
Our Feeders are steadier, but not by much. They’re watching Bree. Watching us. Glancing at Riley’s body with expressions I can’t read.
None of them know what comes next.
Neither do I.
Movement to my left. Seth.
He jerks awake with a gasp, eyes flying open, hands scrabbling at the dirt. For a second I tense—the last time he was conscious, Void energy was pouring out of him—but his eyes are clear. No black threads. No silver lacing.
Just panic.
“Where—” He tries to sit up. Falls back. “Bree?”
I kneel beside him. Offer my arm.
“She’s okay.” I keep my voice steady. “She’s alive.”
He grabs my forearm, grip weak but desperate. I haul him upright, keeping one hand on his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t face-plant.
His gaze finds her immediately. Locked on like a compass finding north.
“She did it,” he breathes. “She actually—”
“Yeah.” I watch her move from Gray to Jace, accepting embrace after embrace. “She did.”
I never thought I’d be helping him stand. But after today…
He’s one of us now.
Bree finishes with Thane—his arms around her longer than anyone else’s, his face buried in her hair—and finally steps back. She’s steadier now. Still exhausted, still tear-streaked, but something in her spine has straightened.
She looks at me.
I tilt my head toward the watching Feeders.
“They’re waiting for you.”
Her gaze sweeps the courtyard. Takes in the scope of it—hundreds of faces turned toward her, silent and uncertain.
“All of them,” I add. “They saw what happened. They need answers.”
She nods slowly. Wipes her face with the back of her hand.
Then she sees Seth.
He’s upright now, leaning on my arm, still pale and shaky but awake. Clear-eyed. Looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world.
She runs.
Not walks. Not moves toward him carefully. She runs—tears still wet on her face, exhaustion forgotten—and slams into him hard enough that I have to brace them both.
Seth catches her. Barely. His arms wrap around her and he buries his face in her neck, and the sound he makes—raw, broken, relieved—is the same one I was choking back five minutes ago.
“You’re okay,” she whispers. “You’re you again.”
“Because of you.” His voice cracks. “Bree—”
“I know.” She pulls back just enough to cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “I know.”
The Feeders are watching. Hundreds of them. Waiting for their queen to address them, to tell them what happens next.
And she’s standing in the wreckage of a battlefield, holding a man with magic from the Void, crying into his shirt like nothing else matters.
Because to her, it doesn’t.
We come first.
The politics can wait.
She kisses Seth’s forehead. Whispers something I can’t hear. Then she steps back, squeezes his hand once, and finally turns toward the crowd.
Now she’s ready.
She walks forward.
We fall into formation without discussing it. Gray on her right. Me on her left. Stellan at her shoulder. Thane opposite. Wes and Jace flanking Seth, helping him stay upright. Theo between groups, watching everything with those Seer eyes.
The Feeders part as we approach. They don’t kneel, but they don’t run either. They just… wait.
Bree stops at the center of the courtyard. Looks around at the faces watching her.
And she tells them the truth.
“You were deceived.”
Her voice carries. Stronger than I expected. The crying girl from five minutes ago is gone—this is something else. Something harder.
“All of you. For the past year.”
She pauses. Her gaze moves to Riley’s body. Still. Silent. Eyes fixed on nothing.
“The woman who ruled here while I was gone—the one who wore my face and gave orders in my name—was not me.”
The silence shifts. Sharpens.
“Her name was Riley. She was my mirror-self. My sister.” Bree’s voice wavers, but she doesn’t stop.
“She was manipulated. Used. Ethos pulled her out of the Void and put her in my place while I was trapped. Everything she did here—the cruelty, the control, the things done in my name—that was his design. Not hers.”
She takes a breath “And not mine.”
She looks back at the crowd.
“She died saving my life. Her last breath was spent telling these men, my men, how to keep me alive.” Bree’s jaw tightens. “Whatever you think of her, whatever she did while wearing my face—she was a victim too. And in the end, she chose me over him.”
Some of the Feeders glance at Riley’s body. Others stare at Bree like they’re seeing her for the first time.
“Phil was never Phil.” Bree continues. “He was Ethos. The thing that’s been pulling strings from the Void for centuries. The Council’s puppet master. The reason Feeders have been hunted and enslaved and treated like weapons instead of people.”
She turns to Stellan.
He steps forward. His voice is quiet, but it cuts through everything.
“Ethos is dead. I can confirm it—I watched him collapse. The contract that bound him to this me is gone.” He pauses. “I felt it break.”
Bree looks at Seth.
He moves to her side, still unsteady, still pale. But his voice is clear.
“The Void is no more. Ethos’s realm collapsed when Bree overloaded the network.” He swallows. “She didn’t just kill him. She destroyed everything he built. There’s nothing left.”
Silence. Complete.
Bree lets it stretch. Then she speaks again.
The Feeders stare. Some of them look terrified. Some look awed.
“You have a choice.”
Her voice is softer now. But no less certain.
“You always have a choice. Take the Oath or don’t. Stay or don’t. Follow me or find your own way.” She pauses. “You are free.”
Something shifts in the crowd. I see it happen—shoulders dropping, breath releasing, the tension of years of compulsion finally letting go.
“I will rebuild,” Bree continues. “I will make things right. For every Feeder who was abandoned. For every life Ethos touched. For all of you.”
She’s not asking for loyalty. She’s not demanding anything.
She’s offering.
And from the looks on their faces, they’re going to take it.
Movement.
My head snaps toward the treeline. Someone slipping away—a figure in Council robes, moving fast and quiet through the shadows.
“Bree.”
She follows my gaze. Sees.
But Zira is faster.
She materializes out of nowhere—blood still on her hands, eyes still glowing—and steps directly into the runner’s path.
“Going somewhere?”
The figure freezes.
I recognize her now. Eris. The Seer-councilor. Eyes blank and silver, face carefully neutral.
Bree walks toward her. Steady. Unhurried.
The rest of us follow.
Eris doesn’t run. She can’t—Zira’s blocking the only exit, and we’re closing in from the other side.
Bree stops three feet away.
“Hello, Eris.”
The councilor’s expression doesn’t change. “Source.”
“You knew.” It’s not a question.
Eris tilts her head. “I see many things. Not all of them are clear until they happen.”
“You saw this?”
A pause. “I saw… possibilities.”
“And you did nothing.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“I did what I could.”
Bree stares at her. The silence stretches.
Then she steps aside.
Eris blinks. For the first time, something like confusion flickers across her face.
“Go.”
“You’re… releasing me?”
“I’m letting you run back to whatever’s left of your Council.” Bree’s voice is steady. Cold. “Though it might just be you.”
She takes a step closer. Eris flinches.
“I’m not sure we need a Council anymore. Not the way it was. Not with the people who let this happen.” Bree tilts her head. “It’s time to rebuild something better.”
Eris stares at her.
“Go,” Bree repeats. “Before I change my mind.”
The Seer doesn’t need to be told twice. She slips past Zira—who looks deeply disappointed—and disappears into the treeline.
Zira watches her go, then turns to Bree. “You sure about that?”
Bree’s mouth curves. Not quite a smile.
“She doesn’t have anything left.”