Chapter 33 Theo
Theo
The chamber hums beneath my skin like a living thing.
I stand at the center of the ritual space, surrounded by mirrors that gleam with impossible light—silver runes carved into their frames pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. Every surface reflects not just what I am, but what I could become—whole, complete, terrifying.
My magic vibrates through my bones, electric and urgent. Visions flicker at the edges of my perception—fractured images that won’t stay still long enough to make sense.
Light. Fire. Mirrors cracking. Bree’s crown gleaming silver-white.
Then—darker flashes: black Ether curling like ink through water, a woman with Bree’s face but sharper edges, silver chains wrapped around wrists I recognize.
I blink hard, forcing the images back. Not now. I need to stay present.
But the visions keep bleeding through, insistent. Like my magic knows something I don’t and is trying desperately to warn me.
“You okay?” Gray’s voice cuts through the static in my head.
I turn to find him watching me with that careful intensity he reserves for moments when things might go wrong.
The others are gathered around the chamber’s perimeter—Rhett near the entrance, flames dancing beneath his skin; Jace perched on a broken pillar, spinning a blade between his fingers; Wes hovering close to Seth, whose familiar coils tight around his wrist.
Thane and Stellan stand at opposite ends of the mirror circle, silver and shadow in perfect balance. Zira leans against the far wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Just… a lot of energy in here.”
Gray doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. That’s one of the things I’ve always loved about him—he knows when to give space.
Thane’s voice cuts through the chamber’s hum. “Everyone ready?”
My gut screams that something’s wrong. That we’re missing something critical.
But we’re out of time. Bree’s trapped in the Void, and every second we waste is another second she’s alone with whatever darkness lives there.
Ethos.
The name whispers through my mind, and I shudder. I’ve seen him in fragments—glimpses of calm, predatory patience that makes my skin crawl. He’s waiting for us. Waiting for this exact moment.
But the visions won’t clarify. They show me after—the consequences, the shattered pieces—but never how or why.
“On three,” Thane says, his silver eyes scanning each of us in turn. “Everyone approaches their mirror together. Place your palm to the glass. Don’t look away.”
Stellan adds, “The mirror will show you your other self. Don’t flinch. Don’t pull back. The Oath requires recognition.”
My heart pounds as I step toward the mirror directly in front of me. The glass shimmers, and for a moment, I see myself reflected—but not quite right. The eyes are the same deep brown, but there’s something else in them. Certainty. Clarity. Like this version of me has never doubted a single vision.
Around me, the others move into position. Rhett’s reflection flickers with heat, fire runes mirrored back at him. Jace’s mirror swirls with invisible currents, air magic coiling like living wings. Gray’s shows a shimmer of silver fur beneath his skin—wolf, waiting to emerge.
Wes’s reflection makes him look… more. Like every perfect angle has been refined, every imperfection erased. His mirror-self is beautiful in a way that feels dangerous.
And Thane and Stellan—their reflections are darker, sharper, like they’ve always known exactly who they are and never apologized for it.
“Three,” Thane says.
My hand lifts toward the glass.
“Two.”
The chamber’s hum grows louder, vibrating through my chest.
“One.”
We press our palms to the mirrors.
The glass warms beneath my touch—then glows. Heat floods up my arm, through my chest, into my skull. I gasp, vision whiting out as power slams into me like a tidal wave.
And suddenly, I’m not alone in my head.
Voices overlap—Rhett’s fury, Jace’s joy, Gray’s vow, Wes’s hunger, Thane’s restraint—all of them bleeding together until I can’t tell where one ends and another begins. Their magic threads through mine, knotting together into something vast and terrifying and whole.
The mirrors flash, each projecting a sigil into the air above us. The symbols spin, merging into a single glyph that hangs suspended in the center of the chamber.
The Ashen Oath.
Light explodes through me—ecstatic, agonizing, endless. My Seer magic burns, carving new pathways through my mind until I feel like I’m on fire. My eyes blaze silver, tears of light streaming down my face.
I see everything.
Bree’s crown flaring white-gold. The Council’s banners burning. Phil smiling in the shadows. And beneath it all—Ethos’s eyes opening in the dark.
The visions fracture, splitting into a thousand futures that all lead to the same place: ruin.
Then, just as suddenly, it stops.
I stumble backward, gasping, my hand falling away from the mirror. Around me, the others stagger too—Rhett catching himself against the wall, Jace doubling over with a sharp laugh, Gray steady but shaken.
Wes looks dazed, like he’s not sure what just happened. Thane and Stellan are the only ones still standing straight, but even they look rattled.
The mirrors are no longer reflections. They’re windows—showing other places, other versions of ourselves, other possibilities.
“Holy shit,” Jace breathes.
“That was…” Wes trails off, shaking his head.
Rhett just stares at his hands, where faint fire runes now glow beneath his skin. “Did it work?”
“It worked,” Stellan says, his voice tight. “You’re bonded to your mirror selves now. Stronger than you were before.”
Thane turns to Seth, who’s been standing off to the side, watching with wide eyes. “Your turn.”
Seth swallows hard, his gaze darting to the central mirror—the one directly in front of Bree’s throne. “What if… what if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we find out,” I say, though my gut twists with unease.
Seth steps forward slowly, the familiar on his wrist glowing brighter with each step. When he reaches the mirror, he hesitates—then presses his palm to the glass.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then the glass ripples.
Silver light explodes outward, so bright I have to shield my eyes. The other mirrors ignite in response, their light converging on Seth like he’s the anchor holding them all together.
And then I see her.
Bree.
She’s on the other side of the mirror, pale and wide-eyed, reaching toward us with trembling hands. Her lips move, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.
“She’s there!” I gasp. “She’s right there!”