Chapter 29 Seth
Seth
The fox leads and I follow.
Because why the hell not?
The raven circles overhead, calling out every so often. Each cry leaves a shimmer of silver static that ripples through the darkness like sound made visible.
The snake around my wrist shifts occasionally, scales glowing faintly in sync with the hum in my chest.
The Void isn’t silent anymore. Every step sounds like walking on the surface of a vast lake—hollow and resonant and alive.
“You really think she’s this way?” I whisper.
The fox glances back as if to say, You already know she is.
The path ahead glows faintly with reflected silver light, forming ripples that stretch into infinity. The deeper we go, the louder the hum becomes—steady, guiding, insistent.
I don’t know how long we walk. Time doesn’t work here.
But eventually, the darkness shifts.
Mirrors appear in the distance. Hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe.
What is going on?
Freestanding, cracked, floating slightly above the black surface like they’re suspended in water. All sizes, all shapes, all reflecting nothing but more darkness.
The fox leads me to one in particular.
Tall, but not floor-to-ceiling. Black iron frame with scrollwork that twists into sharp points like horns.
I stop dead.
There’s something wrong about it. The frame looks hungry—like it’s drinking the darkness around it instead of reflecting it.
“No.”
The word comes out rough, barely audible.
The fox sits and stares. The snake hums harder against my wrist. The raven circles above, crying out.
The mirror surface ripples faintly, and I can see through it.
Not Ethos’s chamber. Not where she’s trapped.
A different chamber. Larger. Ancient. Filled with mirrors lining curved walls.
Empty. Waiting.
My throat closes.
Still I find myself reaching out instinctively, fingers brushing the cold metal frame.
The mirror responds. Silver ripples spread outward from where my hand touches the surface, and the hum in my chest flares so bright it hurts.
It’s not showing me where she is.
It’s showing me a way out.
“No,” I say again, backing away. “I’m not leaving her. You hear me? I won’t.”
The fox growls softly, pushing against my leg.
The raven lands on my shoulder, pecking once—not to hurt, but to insist.
The snake tightens around my wrist, the hum vibrating painfully now.
“She’s still there,” I grit out. “If I leave—if I go through—what if I can’t get back to her?”
The fox’s eyes flare bright silver. The air trembles.
The mirror flashes once, too bright, then pulses like a heartbeat.
The snake lets out a sharp hiss. The hum in my chest spikes, and the mirror surface bursts outward like water splashing in reverse.
I stumble forward, trying to stop myself, but the creatures surge with me—the fox and raven dissolve into light, the snake coils tighter, dragging me through.
I scream as everything turns inside out—
—and then I’m falling.
I slam into the ground hard, gasping, choking on air that tastes real.
Dust. Stone. Magic.
Everything’s too loud. Too bright.
I touch the floor beneath me, whispering, “This… isn’t the Void.”
The words sound strange out loud. Foreign.
The hum in my chest is quieter now but still there. The snake is still wrapped around my wrist, faintly glowing.
I push myself up slowly, legs shaking. The chamber breathes around me—alive with magic I can feel resonating through the walls, humming at the same frequency as the connection in my chest.
The mirror I just came through shimmers once, then goes still.
Footsteps echo.
Urgent.
I turn, and a figure appears at the edge of the chamber.
Tall. Pale. Elegant in a way that feels dangerous.
He stops dead when he sees me. Goes completely still.
Then his face drains of color.
“No.” The word comes out like he’s been punched. “No, you’re—”
“Who are you?” I ask, voice rough from disuse.
He doesn’t answer. Just stares at me like I’m something impossible.
“Seth.” He breathes the name in recognition.
Another pause.
“How do you know my name?” I press.
That breaks through his shock. His eyes sharpen, dangerous now.
“Because I watched you die.” His voice is cold, controlled. “I watched Bree’s Ether tear through you. Watched you burn away to nothing when Phil—” He cuts himself off.
“I don’t know who Phil is.” My stomach drops. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been trapped in the Void. I don’t know how long. Years. Maybe decades.” I press my hand to my chest, trying to ground myself. “Time doesn’t work there.”
Something shifts in his expression. Understanding, maybe. Or horror.
“You came from the Void,” he says carefully. “Were you alone?”
“No. There was—” My chest tightens around the memory. “A woman. Dark hair, green eyes. Scars everywhere.”
His whole body goes rigid.
“Is that her name?” I ask before he can speak, chest tightening.
“Bree?” I press my hand over my heart, where the hum still pulses.
“The woman…” My voice drops to something almost reverent.
“She’s beautiful. Even fading, even scared.
The scars just make her more…” I trail off, not sure how to finish. “More.”
“Yes.” His voice cracks on the word, and something shifts in his expression—the dangerous edge softening. “It’s Bree.” He pauses, and when he speaks again there’s something raw in his voice. Afraid. “She’s alive? Gods, tell me she’s still alive.”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “But she’s fading. There’s someone with her. Ethos. He’s—feeding on her, I think. This chamber, black stone, silver fire.”
Something shutters across his face—not relief. Horror.
“How bad?” His voice goes flat, cold. Dangerous.
“Bad.” My throat tightens. “She’s scared. Trapped. And whatever he’s doing to her—” I press my hand to my chest, feeling the hum there. “I could feel it. Like she was being drained.”
“Describe the scars,” he says suddenly, voice urgent.
I blink, thrown by the shift. “Everywhere. Arms, shoulders, legs. Some old, some newer. She’s—” My voice catches. “Beautiful. Fragile. Fading.”
He closes his eyes briefly, and I realize he’s confirming something.
“There’s someone upstairs,” he says carefully. “Claims to be Bree. Black Ether threaded with silver. No scars. And wrong.”
The world tilts.
“We’ve known something was off,” he continues, voice low. “But we couldn’t prove it. If you were in the Void with the real one—”
He stops, staring at my wrist. “That creature. I saw it before. The day you… the man we thought was Seth, died. When her power exploded, shadow creatures came through. That’s one of hers.”
“I don’t understand.” My voice sounds hollow. “She’s trapped in the Void, and there’s someone here pretending to be her—”
“Then we have proof.” His eyes are sharp now, calculating. “Someone switched places with Bree somehow.”
The snake hums against my wrist.
A voice echoes faintly in my head: Welcome home.
“Yes.” He studies the snake on my wrist. “And you’re connected to her somehow.”
“Something happened between us, when our fingers touched.” I admit. “It felt like it locked into place. I don’t know what it was, but—”
“A bond.” His voice is quiet. “You bonded with her in the Void.”
The word settles in my chest like an anchor.
Bree.
Hope flares in his expression, sharp and sudden. “If you came through a mirror from the Void, then there’s a way. We just need to figure out how to get her back.”
I look at the mirror behind me, still and dark now.
“The creatures led me here,” I say. “They knew the way.”
“Then they can lead us back.” He’s already moving, pacing, thinking.
“What if they won’t?”
His smile is cold. Sharp.
“Then we make them want to.”
The snake hums against my wrist, and I feel that pull again—faint but there. The connection threading back through the mirror, back to the Void, back to her.
Back to Bree.
“We’re going to get her out,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. Like an oath.
I nod, something fierce and desperate rising in my chest.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “We are.”