*Jiselle*
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The sound of footsteps reached me before the figure emerged. I already knew it was him. Ethan had a way of filling a space with silence, of dragging his grief behind him like it was chained to his ribs.
I was sitting in the dim glow of the tower’s last candle, the flame fighting against the midnight draft. The others were sleeping, or at least pretending to. I wasn’t. Neither was he.
He stepped into the circle of light, shadows sharp across his face. “You’re awake,” he said, though it sounded more like a question..
“I could say the same about you.” My voice came out softer than I intended.
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. He just stood there, shoulders tense, jaw working like he was chewing on words too sharp to swallow. Then, without warning, he sat across from me. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for me to see the cracks in him.
“I can’t carry it anymore,” he muttered, fingers digging into his knees. “The weight. The silence. I thought I could, but it’s eating me alive.”
I leaned forward. “Then stop carrying it alone.”
The candle guttered between us. He lifted his gaze, and there it was–that look I remembered from when we were children. The one that said he wanted to be strong for me, but didn’t know how.
“When the Hollow took me,” he began, voice low, “I thought it was just pain. Just emptiness. But it wasn’t. It was her.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “She reached for me. Not Aedric. Not the Hollow. Her. And I ‘wanted to let her in. Not because I was weak, but because… goddess, Jiselle, she was everything I never got to
be.”
His words struck deeper than I expected. I pressed a hand against the floor, steadying myself. “What do you mean?”
He laughed, bitter, harsh. “You were always fire. Nate was always steel. Even Eva had her visions. And me? I was the shadow of both of you. The twin who followed. The boy who never mattered enough. But when she touched me in that void, for the first time… I mattered. I wasn’t just your brother. I wasn’t just Ethan Vale. I was something. And I wanted it. I wanted to give in.”
The admission broke me more than his silence ever had. I saw it then–the guilt lodged in his bones, the shame that had hollowed him out. And beneath it, the fear that he had already chosen wrong.
I crawled forward and placed my hand against his chest. His breath hitched, his eyes closing as if my touch was both a balm and a brand. “You’re not weak,” I said. “You’re my brother. You’ve always been more than enough.”
His chest trembled beneath my palm. For a moment, he almost leaned into me, like he wanted to believe. But it wasn’t my voice that convinced him.
It was hers.
16:14 Mon, Sep 29
Chapter 226
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Solara’s small figure appeared in the doorway, silent as moonlight. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t smile, didn’t even blink. She simply walked toward us with that ecrie calm that was hers alone. Her bare feet made no noise on the stone. She stopped beside me, then placed her tiny hand on Ethan’s chest, right where mine
was.
The mark there–dark, jagged, unstable–flared. Not violently this time, not with pain, but with light. Gold. threaded through violet, steady and certain, as though it had always been waiting for this moment. Ethan gasped, his back arching, but instead of recoiling he gripped her hand like he never wanted to let go.
The light sank back into him, steadying, anchoring. For the first time since I had seen that cursed mark appear, it stopped flickering. His power settled.
And for a long while, none of us spoke.
Finally, Ethan broke the silence. His voice cracked, raw, but clearer than before. “She forgave me,” he whispered. “Did you see that? She forgave me.”
I looked at Solara, who tilted her head but said nothing. Then I met his gaze. “Not just her,” I told him.
He shook his head, almost laughing, almost crying. “You shouldn’t. Not after everything.”
But I pressed my forehead against his and whispered, “I already have.”
The candle burned down to its final wick. Solara slipped away as quietly as she came, retreating into the shadows like she was never there. Ethan sagged against the wall, his breathing even at last.
For the first time in months, he slept without twitching, without clutching his chest like something was trying to claw out.
But peace never lasts for us. Not fully.
Sometime before dawn, I woke to the sound of his voice. Not speaking aloud–murmuring in his sleep. I rose quickly, heart pounding, and crossed to his side. His skin was clammy, his body caught in a dream he couldn’t escape. His lips moved faster, the words tumbling out too quiet to catch.
I shook him once. “Ethan, wake up.”
His eyes flew open, glowing faintly in the dark. His hand snapped to mine, clutching it like a lifeline. And then he whispered, voice hoarse, broken, and terrified:
“I saw it again. The Gate. But this time… it whispered my name.”
The words hung heavy in the air, thick as smoke. And though dawn crept faintly across the horizon, I knew the night wasn’t over. Not for him. Not for any of us.
16:14 Mon, Sep 29
Chapter 227
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.
