Chapter 13 Bree
Bree
I’m shaking.
Can’t stop.
My hands won’t stay still, my breath won’t even out, and the cold—
It’s not cold. The Void isn’t cold. But I feel it anyway, crawling up my arms from the shadow marks on my wrists.
I try to rub them off.
They don’t move.
I scrub harder, nails digging in, but the shadow just sits there like it’s part of my skin now.
Like he marked me.
Claimed me.
I almost said yes.
The thought hits and I double over, pressing my forehead to my knees.
I almost gave in. Almost let him—
“Stop,” I whisper. “Stop thinking about it.”
But I can’t.
Because part of me wanted to say yes.
Part of me still does.
That’s the worst part. Not that I almost broke. That I wanted to break. Wanted the calm, the rest, the promise that I wouldn’t have to fight anymore.
My chest aches.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces together, but it feels useless. Like I’m already falling apart and just haven’t noticed yet.
The mist curls around my ankles.
I look down, and my stomach drops.
The Ether coiling around my ankles isn’t right.
It’s had black threads since the first time I fell into the Void—since I pulled Thane and I into it and everything went dark. But this—
This is different.
The black isn’t just threading through the silver anymore.
It’s half.
Maybe more.
Silver and black twisted together like they’re fighting for control, and I can’t tell which one is winning.
“No.”
I jerk back, but the Ether follows. It’s mine. Part of me. And it’s wrong.
I try to pull it back, suppress it like I try to when it gets too strong. But it doesn’t obey. It keeps spiraling out, the black spreading like ink, until I can barely tell where the silver ends and the darkness begins.
My hands start to shake harder.
It’s getting worse.
Being here—being trapped in his space—it’s feeding the corruption or whatever this is. Making it stronger. Turning my Ether into something I don’t recognize.
Or maybe it’s not the Void doing it.
Maybe it’s me.
Maybe every time I almost gave in, every time I wanted to say yes, the black grew a little more.
Either way, it’s terrifying.
I close my eyes, trying to breathe through it, trying to calm down enough to pull the Ether back under control.
It doesn’t work.
The darkness spreads, creeping across the floor, climbing the walls. I can feel it reaching, searching, like it’s looking for something.
Or someone.
“Stop,” I whisper. “Please, just stop—”
But my Ether doesn’t listen.
It never really has.
I press my hands to the floor, nails scraping stone, and force everything I have into pulling it back. Reining it in. Making it obey.
The mist shudders. Flickers.
Then snaps back so fast I gasp.
The chamber goes still.
Silent.
I sit there, panting, staring at my hands.
The shadow marks are still there. But the Ether is gone. Pulled so far inside I can barely feel it anymore.
That’s almost worse.
Because if I can’t feel it, I can’t control it.
And if I can’t control it—
I don’t finish the thought.
Instead, I push to my feet, legs unsteady, and look around the chamber.
Really look, for the first time since the darkness lifted.
It’s beautiful in a sick sort of way.
Black stone walls, smooth and polished. Arches that curve into nothing. Silver fire flickering along surfaces without burning them.
And furniture.
A low couch draped in velvet. Cushions piled on the floor. A table carved from what looks like obsidian.
It looks like a bedroom.
My stomach twists.
This isn’t a prison. Not the way I thought.
It’s a cage dressed as a sanctuary.
He wants me to feel safe here. Comfortable. Like I chose this.
I move to the far wall, running my hands along the stone, searching for seams. Doors. Anything that might lead out.
Nothing.
Just smooth, unbroken stone.
I circle the entire chamber. Every wall. Every corner.
No exits.
No windows.
No way out.
The panic tries to claw up again, but I shove it down.
Think. I need to think.
But I can’t focus. My thoughts keep slipping, sliding away like water through my fingers.
How long have I been here?
The question hits me suddenly, sharp and disorienting.
I don’t know.
I woke up after he left, but when was that? Minutes ago? Hours?
There’s no way to tell.
No sun. No clock. No sense of time passing at all.
I try to count back. Trace the moments from when I fell through the mirror to now.
But everything blurs together. The void, the snake, the chamber, the darkness, his voice—
It all runs into one endless stretch of fear and exhaustion.
I could have been here for an hour.
Or a day.
Or longer.
My breath comes faster.
If time doesn’t work here—if it moves differently—then how long have the guys been searching?
Are they even searching?
The thought twists like a knife.
I saw them in the mirror. With her. With Riley wearing my face.
Do they know?
Do they realize she’s not me?
Or are they—
My stomach lurches.
What if they’re with her right now? Touching her. Talking to her. Believing every lie she tells them because she looks like me and sounds like me and they have no reason to doubt—
I press my hands to my face, trying to breathe through the nausea.
What if time’s passed differently and they’ve already moved on? What if Riley’s had days or weeks to convince them she’s me, and they’ve just… accepted it?
What if they’re sleeping with her?
The image hits like a fist to the gut, and I double over.
No. No, they wouldn’t—
But how would they know?
She has my face. My voice. Maybe even my memories if the mirror showed her everything.
They’d have no reason to suspect.
And I’m trapped here, with no way to tell them, no way to get back, no way to stop her from—
The floor tilts under me, and I sit down hard, pressing my palms to the stone.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But I can’t stop spiraling.
Because if time doesn’t work, then I have no anchor. No way to know if I’ve been here for minutes while she’s had weeks with them. No way to know if they’re still looking or if they’ve already forgotten I’m gone.
No way to know if she’s already in my bed. In their arms. Taking everything that was supposed to be mine.
The thought makes me want to scream.
But I shove it down. Force it back.
Because falling apart won’t help.
Won’t get me out of here.
Won’t stop whatever Riley’s doing.
I just have to survive.
Get back.
And pray I’m not too late.
“Stop it,” I whisper. “Stop.”
But the fear doesn’t stop.
It builds and builds until I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but sit there and shake.
Then—
A blanket appears on the couch.
I freeze.
It wasn’t there before. I know it wasn’t.
But now it is. Dark velvet, folded neatly, like someone just placed it there.
I didn’t hear footsteps. Didn’t feel anyone enter.
But someone did.
Or something.
I stare at it, heart pounding.
It’s just a blanket.
But it feels like so much more than that.
It’s a reminder. A message.
I’m watching. I’m always watching.
I want to throw it across the room. Burn it. Destroy it.
But I don’t move.
Because part of me—the part that’s exhausted and cold and so tired of fighting—wants to wrap it around myself and pretend it’s comfort instead of control.
I hate that part of me.
But I can’t kill it.
I push to my feet, turning away from the couch, and that’s when I see it.
The mirror.
Full-length, framed in black iron, standing against the far wall.
It wasn’t there before either.
Or maybe it was, and I just didn’t notice.
I approach slowly, warily, like it might bite.
My reflection stares back.
I look… wrong.
Paler than I should be. Hollow-eyed. The shadow marks on my wrists stand out stark against my skin.
And my eyes—
There’s something in them I don’t recognize.
Something darker.
I lean closer, searching for the girl I was before all this. Before the Void. Before Ethos.
She’s not there.
Or maybe she is, but buried so deep I can’t see her anymore.
The mist flickers at the edge of my vision—silver threaded with black—and I jerk back.
The mirror stays still.
But I swear, for just a second, my reflection smiled.
I stumble backward, pressing a hand to my mouth.
This place is breaking me.
Not all at once. Not violently.
Slowly. Gently. Like erosion.
And I don’t know how to stop it.
I sink down onto the floor, back against the wall, and pull my knees to my chest.
Time passes.
I think.
I don’t know how much.
At some point, I fall asleep. Or maybe I just close my eyes. It’s hard to tell the difference here.
When I open them again, there’s something on the table.
Clothing.
I stare at it for a long moment, not moving.
It wasn’t there before. Just like the blanket. Just like the mirror.
He’s been here. Or sent something. While I was sleeping or not looking or—
I don’t know.
I push to my feet slowly, approaching the table like it might explode.
The fabric is dark. Almost black, but with a hint of deep purple when the silver firelight catches it. Soft. Beautiful in a way that makes my stomach turn.
I reach out, fingers brushing the material.
It’s silk. Or something like it. Smoother than anything I’ve ever touched. The kind of fabric that costs more than I’ve ever had.
There’s a dress. Long, flowing, with a neckline that would sit just off my shoulders. And underneath it, simpler clothes—a shirt, pants, both in the same dark, beautiful fabric.
He wants me to wear this.
Wants me to look like I belong here. In this chamber. In this cage dressed as sanctuary.
My fingers curl into the silk, and for a second—just a second—I imagine it. Putting it on. Feeling that softness against my skin instead of the rough, torn clothes I’m wearing now.
It would feel good.
That’s the worst part. It would feel good, and he knows it.
I jerk my hand back like I’ve been burned.
“No.”
The word comes out harder than I expected. Louder.
I grab the clothing—all of it—and throw it across the room.
It lands in a heap near the far wall, dark fabric pooling on black stone.
“No,” I say again, to the empty chamber. To him, wherever he’s watching from. “You don’t get to dress me like a doll. You don’t get to—”
My voice cracks.
I press my hands to my face, breathing hard.
He’s trying to make me comfortable. Trying to make this feel like a choice. Like I’m staying instead of trapped.
And I almost fell for it.
Almost touched that beautiful fabric and thought about how nice it would feel.
But I won’t.
I won’t let him erase me like that. Won’t let him replace who I am with who he wants me to be.
Even if my clothes are torn and dirty and wrong for this place.
Even if that silk would feel like heaven.
I won’t.
I sit back down on the floor, as far from the discarded clothing as I can get, and wrap my arms around myself.
The chamber breathes around me.
Silent.
Watching.
I try counting again to keep myself grounded. One, two, three, four—
I lose track at thirty-seven.
Start over.
Lose track again.
My Ether pulses, unstable, and I shove it down before it can flare.
But holding it back hurts. Like trying to hold my breath underwater for too long.
I can’t keep this up forever.
Eventually, something’s going to break.
I just don’t know if it’ll be my magic or me.
I press my forehead to my knees and try to think of the guys. Their faces. Their voices.
But the memories feel distant. Blurred.
Like I’m already forgetting.
“Please,” I whisper into the silence. “Please find me.”
But no one answers.
Just the chamber, breathing around me.
And the endless, stretching dark.