Chapter 145
Chapter 145
Nathaniel
The sun hadn’t quite broken through the clouds that morning, and maybe that was for the best. The sky hung low over the mountain ridge, heavy and gray, thick with the scent of damp stone and wildfire ash. The kind of morning that made you feel like the world was holding its breath waiting for something to crack.
I found her near the leyline basin. Again.
Jiselle sat cross–legged on the blackened stone, her back straight, eyes closed. Pale tendrils of violet magic coiled around her fingers, too soft to be fire, too alive to be light. They moved with her breath. They moved with the land.
Except–it wasn’t steady.
The pulses came in waves. A quiet tremor one second, a violent surge the next. The earth responded each time, subtle rumbles skimming under my boots like warning growls. I stepped closer.
She didn’t open her eyes.
“Jiselle,” I said softly.
“I can’t hold it,” she murmured. “It keeps slipping.”
I knelt in front of her, close enough that I could see the sweat beading at her hairline, the tightness in her jaw, the faint twitch in her fingers as if her entire body was bracing against itself.
“I’m trying to calm it,” she whispered, “but it doesn’t want calm. It wants… everything.”
The bond between us tugged sharply then. I felt her pulse–not just hear it or sense it. I felt it beneath my skin, thrumming against my ribs like it had a right to live there. I braced instinctively, planting a hand on the stone to steady myself.
“Let me help,” I said.
She opened her eyes then.
They were glowing again. Not wild like before. Not broken. But intense.
“It’s dangerous,” she said.
“So am I.”
She gave a half–smile–broken at the corners–and nodded once.
I placed my hands over hers.
And the world tilted.
Heat surged through my arms, into my chest, into every crack the bond had once left behind. I felt her magic clash against mine, not in battle, but in panic. Wild, frayed, desperate. I anchored down, gritting my teeth, forcing stillness through our link.
Beneath us, the leyline responded.
A high, whistling hum split the silence.
The ground glowed.
And then–cracked.
Chapter 145
A jagged rupture spread outward from beneath her spine, crawling across the stone like lightning. Power surged, pulled straight from the leyline into her, through her and back into me.
“Nate!” she gasped, trying to pull away.
But the bond wasn’t listening.
Theld firm. “I’ve got you.”
“No–you don’t understand. It’s taking-”
“I said I’ve got you.”
The wind howled.
The stone beneath us fractured again, heat bleedin
leyline. Not just her flame.
Something ancient.
Something watching.
through the fissures like veins of molten silver. And then something deeper stirred. Not just the
I heard it–not with ears, but in my head. A voice, like a hiss of steam on cold iron.
“She is not yours to hold.”
The words stopped my breath cold.
Jiselle froze too. Her eyes locked on mine.
“You heard it too,” she whispered.
The voice didn’t speak again. But its echo remained–sinking under my skin, settling in my spine like a curse etched into bone.
I pulled my hands away.
The magic snapped back into her like a whip, and she gasped, slamming her palms to the ground to steady herself. I stood, pacing backward, heart pounding.
“What the hell was that?” I asked.
She rose slowly, wiping the sweat from her temple, her body trembling. “It’s part of the gate. I think… I think it’s been watching us longer than we thought.”
“You think the gate itself is sentient?”
“No.” She paused, swallowing hard. “I think something inside it is.”
I didn’t like the way her voice dipped when she said that. Didn’t like the way the shadows beneath her eyes deepened, like her body was still here–but part of her had drifted somewhere further.
She looked up at me. “It’s warning you.”
“Of what?”
She hesitated. “Of me.”
I stepped forward. “Jiselle, no-”
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Chapter 145
“You felt it. The bond pulled you into something that wasn’t me. That Volce–It didn’t threaten. It warned.”
It was wrong said. “You are mine. Not because of power. Not because of fate. Because you are you,”
Her mouth trembled.
But she didn’t cry.
She nodded instead.
And then collapsed into my arms.
I caught her before she hit the ground fully, her weight curling against me like she was just… tired. Of fighting. Of fire. Of prophecy.
I lowered us both to the stone, her head resting on my shoulder as I rocked her gently, breathing her in. She still smelled like ash and summer rain. Like
Jiselle.
“I’m scared,” she whispered into my neck.
I brushed my hand down her spine. “I am too.”
We sat like that for a long time, saying nothing. The wind passed overhead. The leyline quieted beneath us. But the crack in the stone didn’t fade.
It pulsed faintly.
Like something alive was waiting just beneath it.
And I couldn’t shake the words:
She is not yours to hold.
Not because I didn’t believe they were wrong.
But because some part of me feared… they might be right.
It pulsed faintly.
Like something alive was waiting just beneath it.
And I couldn’t shake the words:
She is not yours to hold.
Not because I didn’t believe they were wrong.
But because some part of me feared… they might be right.
Jiselle stirred against me, her fingers twitching against my chest. I glanced down, half–expecting to see her flames rise again, but what came instead was softer–an almost imperceptible ripple of violet threading along her palm.
“I didn’t call it,” she whispered. “I swear, Nate. I didn’t summon anything. It just… knew.”
I nodded, though my throat was too tight to speak. I didn’t need her to explain. I’d felt it too–some primordial current older than either of us, crawling up from the leyline’s core like a memory laced with teeth.
“What does it want from you?” I asked, my voice barely above wind.
Her breath hitched. “I think… I think it doesn’t want anything.” She looked up at
me, eyes glassy but clear. “I think it wants to become me.”
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Chapter 145
The silence that followed was heavier than any thunderclap.
I didn’t let go. If anything, I pulled her closer.
Because no matter what came clawing through the cracks–no matter what ancient hunger stirred beneath her skin–I’d hold her as long as I was able.
Even if one day, she couldn’t hold herself.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
