My Greate Husband 232

Chapter 232 

*Jiselle* 

The collapse should have killed us. 

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Stone came down in jagged slabs, the floor gave way beneath our feet, the air filled with choking dust and burning light. I had Solara clutched to my chest and Nate’s hand in mine, and for one blinding heartbeat I thought this was the end–that all the prophecies, all the warnings, all the wars had come to nothing but ruin. 

And then the fall stopped. 

We weren’t crushed. We weren’t buried. We were suspended in air, the ruin of the old hall frozen around us like shards of glass caught in a storm. My stomach lurched as the ground simply vanished, replaced by an endless abyss threaded with rivers of violet flame. The air hummed with a low, relentless pulse that seemed to come from everywhere at once. 

Solara’s eyes glowed faintly. She was the only one not afraid. 

The voice came again, deeper this time, shaking the marrow of my bones. 

“Trial.” 

Nate pulled me closer, sword raised though it meant nothing here. Ethan stumbled to my other side, his chest heaving, the mark on his shoulder blazing bright. Eva and Bastain were gone–swallowed by the collapse or spared by some mercy. Only the three of us stood on that floating shard of stone, and the child who had led us here. 

“What trial?” Ethan demanded, his voice fraying. 

The abyss answered. 

“Three flames. Three bonds. Three truths.” 

The stone beneath our feet cracked, splitting into three smaller platforms. I staggered as the ground pulled me away from Nate, away from Ethan, until I stood alone on a circle of stone barely wide enough for two feet. The abyss stretched between us, violet fire licking at the edges. 

Solara hovered in the center, untouched by gravity, untouched by fear. She raised her hand, and with a voice that did not sound like a child’s, she spoke. 

“If you fail,” she said, her small lips shaping words older than this world, “the bond breaks. Forever.” 

My throat tightened. “What bond?” 

Her gaze met mine. “The one that makes you Sovereign.” 

And then the fire rose. 

It didn’t burn the flesh. It burned the heart, the mind, the memories. I gasped as the world vanished, the 

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stone beneath my feet melting into smoke, and suddenly I was somewhere else. 

ཏྲཱི(7) 

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I stood in the Academy courtyard. 

Whole. Untouched. 

The fountain bubbled clear water, the banners snapped in the wind, and the air smelled not of ash but of promise. Wolves laughed and sparred and shouted greetings. The Academy as it had been. Before everything, 

And in the center stood Max. 

Alive. 

He grinned when he saw me, that lopsided grin that had once made me believe we could all survive anything. His eyes lit up, his voice easy and familiar. “There you are, Jizzy. Took you long enough.” 

My chest cracked open. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. 

This wasn’t real. I knew it wasn’t real. But gods, it felt real. 

“Come back with me,” he said, reaching out a hand. “We can start over. No Gate. No prophecies. Just us.” 

My heart ached. I wanted to take it. To let him pull me back to the moment before the fire, before the pain, before the weight of carrying the world pressed down on my shoulders. 

But behind him, I saw Nate. 

Not standing. Not waiting. Walking away. 

If I took Max’s hand, Nate would vanish. The bond would break. 

My pulse thundered. Tears blurred my vision. “I can’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I loved you. I’ll always love you. But I can’t.” 

Max’s smile faltered. His body flickered, then burned away into ash. 

The courtyard dissolved. 

And I was back on the stone, shaking, tears hot on my face. My rune–the flame mark on my chest–still glowed steady. I had passed. 

But I turned toward Nate. 

And he was not steady. 

Nate stood in a forest of shadows. 

Chapter 232 

I could see it–not with eyes, but with something else. His trial burned beside mine. 

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He walked alone, his sword heavy at his side, his wolf pacing just beyond the trees. And ahead of him–me. 

But not me. 

The girl I had been. Younger. Softer. The Jiselle who had first come to the Academy, unscarred, unbound. She smiled at him the way she had before he left, before his absence hollowed me out. 

“Stay,” she said, holding out her hand. “You don’t have to walk this war. You don’t have to bleed. Stay with me, and we can be who we were before.” 

Nate froze. His chest heaved. He wanted it. I could feel it through the bond–the desperate longing to undo, to rewind, to have the girl he had loved before she carried fire in her veins and prophecy in her blood. 

But he also knew the truth. 

He whispered it, his voice breaking. “She’s not that girl anymore.” 

The image of me flickered, twisted, turned into flame. His wolf howled, the sound tearing through the trees. 

And Nate walked forward. Past the ghost. Past the fire. Toward me. 

When the forest dissolved, he stumbled back onto his stone platform, his arm bleeding from where he had carved my mark into himself, but his eyes were steady. He had passed. 

I almost collapsed with relief. 

But Ethan… 

Ethan was screaming. 

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He stood in the Gate. 

Not a vision of it. The Gate itself, fractured and alive, pulsing with violet fire. It roared around him, whispering in a thousand voices, each one promising power, each one promising belonging. 

And in the center stood the child. 

Solara. 

But older. Taller. Her eyes hollow, her body blazing with the fire of the Gate itself. She stretched out a hand to Ethan, her voice soft and sweet. 

“Let me in.” 

Ethan’s whole body trembled. His chest heaved. “She reached for me,” he whispered, his words spilling into my vision. “And I wanted to let her in. Not because I was weak. Because she was everything I never got to be.” 

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Chapter 232 

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The Gate pulsed. His mark burned so bright it split his shirt. His knees buckled as he reached for her, every instinct in him screaming to give in, to surrender, to let the Gate consume him if it meant he belonged. 

“No,” I whispered, though he couldn’t hear me. “Don’t you dare.” 

But his hand inched closer. Closer. 

And the flame wrapped around him. 

*** 

I screamed his name, but the abyss swallowed the sound. 

Nate shouted too, his voice breaking, his body straining against invisible walls that kept us apart. 

Ethan’s stone cracked beneath him. His rune flared, then splintered. 

And the voice from the abyss rumbled once more, final and cold. 

“One must fall.” 

The stone gave way. 

And Ethan dropped into the fire. 

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