Chapter 127
*Jiselle*
The flame danced in her hand–steady, patient, terrifying in its calm.
The mirror behind her pulsed brighter now, no longer a reflection of my body or thoughts, but something else entirely. A gate. An opening. A warning.
The burning version of myself stood only inches away, her expression unchanging, as if she already knew what I would choose. Her voice lingered in the air like smoke: Let me burn. You were never meant to carry this alone.
But I didn’t move.
Not forward. Not back.
I just stared at her–and hated how much of her I recognized.
Her stance, her voice, the calm wrapped in certainty. The fire didn’t consume her. It adorned her like a mantle. And now, the flame behind her eyes looked less like Eira’s and more like mine.
“You’re not me,” I whispered.
The version of me with flame–coiled fingers tilted her head and stepped sideways, away from the mirror, gesturing to it with a single glowing hand. “Then look.”
I hesitated.
My body trembled–whether from fear or the pull of her power, I couldn’t tell. But I stepped toward the mirror. Slowly. As if moving too fast might crack the illusion or trap me inside whatever this was for good.
The glass rippled as I reached it.
And then it changed.
The image inside shifted–not a reflection, but a memory. Or maybe a present I hadn’t yet seen.
A room.
Circular. Marble floors fractured by old magic. A throne of stone and scorched silver sat at its center. I recognized the place instantly. The throne room of my mind–where I had first faced Eira. Where I’d seen her sit. Where I’d refused to bow.
But it wasn’t empty.
Nathaniel lay slumped at the base of the throne.
Unmoving.
Successfully unlocked!
Flame coiled over his skin like a parasite. His shirt had burned through entirely. Black
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scorch marks spread down his chest like vines. His face–normally so sure, so steady -was twisted in pain even unconscious.
And above him, drifting just behind the throne, stood the shadow of her.
Not fully formed.
Not entirely Eira.
But a wraith of me.
One foot in memory. One in flame.
And I felt it.
She was siphoning him.
Drawing power through the bond that had once been clean and tethered by choice. She was using him to stay rooted in me.
“No,” I breathed. My hands pressed to the mirror. “Nate.”
The image trembled.
The flame–ghost beside me stepped forward. “You asked to see him. I showed you.” “What are you doing to him?” I demanded, voice rising. “Why is he–why is he in pain?” Her head turned. “Because he wouldn’t let go.”
“He never would,” I snapped. “That’s the point.”
The fire in her hand flared. “And that’s the problem.”
My body lurched forward. I reached through the mirror, but my hand struck solid glass.
A boundary.
A wall.
A choice.
“I want him back.”
“You want everything back,” the flame–ghost said. “Your wolf. Your life. Your brother. Your mate. But you’re still pretending those things survived you.”
“I survived,” I said, trembling. “That has to count for something.”
Her voice softened. “It does. That’s why I’m still here.”
She turned toward the mirror and gestured again.
The image inside warped.
Eira now stood in the throne, full form, hair a blaze of silver–white, eyes blank and bottomless. One hand hovered above Nathaniel’s heart.
He twitched.
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Only once.
But it was enough.
I slammed my fists against the mirror. “Stop it!”
Nothing changed.
I could feel him.
The bond was still there, but weaker now. Dimmed. His heartbeat–normally the drumbeat beneath mine–was slower. Fainter. And worse than that… I could feel myself inside him. The parts of me I never meant to leave behind were now burning him alive.
“I never asked for this,” I whispered.
The flame–ghost didn’t look at me. “No one ever asks. We become.”
“Then I’m choosing something else.”
She finally turned. “Then choose. But understand what that means.”
I met her gaze, defiant.
“I won’t let you take him.”
The mirror flared once. A pulse of heat.
“I won’t let you become me,” I added.
She stared at me for a long time, the flames in her eyes dimming just enough that I saw my own fear reflected in her.
And then she said, “That’s not how this ends.”
Before I could ask what she meant, the mirror shattered.
A blast of light threw me backward, across the floor of the constructed room. I hit the ground hard. The walls dissolved. The soft bed and familiar bookshelves vanished. The last things I saw were the mirror–girls fading, their faces blank.
And the flame–ghost–her smile twisting into something tragic as she whispered:
You’re already me.
Meanwhile, in the waking world
Eva knelt at my side.
My body still hadn’t moved, but the flame around my hands had changed. Instead of flickering wildly, it pulsed–slow, methodical.
Like a heartbeat.
Ethan, bandaged and pale, stood opposite her, watching with thinly veiled worry. “She’s stabilizing?” he asked, voice raspy.
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Eva didn’t answer right away. She pressed her palm to the edge of my aura, feeling the rhythm that had just started.
And her eyes widened.
“She’s syncing,” she whispered.
Ethan blinked. “What do you mean?”
“The flame–it’s matching Nate’s heartbeat. They’re still connected.”
“But he’s unconscious.”
“Exactly,” Eva said. “And he’s fading.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened as he crouched beside Eva, his hands balled into fists despite the pain that clearly still radiated from his burns. His voice was low, raw at the edges.
“Then what happens if—”
Eva didn’t let him finish.
“If she goes too deep,” she said quietly, her eyes locked on Jiselle’s unmoving form, ” and can’t find her way back…”
She didn’t need to say the rest.
The flame curled gently along Jiselle’s fingers–no longer lashing out, no longer wild. It pulsed once, sharp and deliberate, like it had a mind of its own. The grass around her body trembled from the force of it, leaves shivering as if the earth itself sensed a choice being made.
Eva’s expression softened as she leaned in closer, brushing the sweat–dampened strands of hair from Jiselle’s face with the tenderness of a sister.
“Come on,” she whispered, barely more than breath. “Come on, Jiselle. You’re stronger than this. You have to be.”
And inside me-
Everything reset.
No mirror.
No throne.
No versions of myself waiting in judgment.
Just the dark.
It spread endlessly, a weightless, voiceless void where nothing had shape but everything had meaning. And somewhere deep inside that black-
My name echoed.
Jiselle…
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Nate’s voice again, faint but reaching.
It sparked like a match in the dark.
And I screamed his name in return, the sound scraping out of my throat like it had
claws.
“Nathaniel!”
The silence that followed felt too heavy to hold.
No answer.
No bond tug.
No warmth.
Only cold. And-
Footsteps.
Slow. Even.
Eira emerged from the shadows like she’d never left, her form fully realized now. Not a ghost. Not a fragment.
A woman.
Powerful.
Complete.
Her hair drifted in waves of silver fire, flickering like a dying star. Her eyes were hollow -not with grief or hatred, but with something worse.
Resignation.
She looked at me–not angry.
Not victorious.
Just certain.
And then she spoke.
“You’re already me.”
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