Page 37 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

Fuck.

Her pain hits hard, echoing across the veil between realms. The mist writhes around me, agitated and cold, carrying fragments of her despair.

This is not how it was supposed to happen.

I pace the length of my chamber, shadows dancing at my feet as her emotions surge through our connection. Fear. Betrayal. That bone-deep certainty that she's worth nothing more than what others would take from her.

No, little flame. You're worth so much more.

But she can't hear me. Not yet. And her guardians—those five souls who've loved her longer than they realize—they're fumbling in the dark, trying to protect her while unknowingly pushing her further away.

The mirror ripples as I press my palm against it, its surface shimmering like disturbed water. Through it, I catch glimpses: Rhett's bloody knuckles, the daisy pulsing with power he doesn't understand. Gray's calculated fury as he holds the others back, knowing they can't chase her. Not this time.

They don't realize what's at stake. How close she is to breaking completely.

Phil’s words have cut deep, reopening old scars, making her doubt even those who truly love her. But it’s not just manipulation—it’s preparation. He isn’t lying about her father. He’s working for him. He’s always been working for him."

"And she has no idea what that truly means.

The mist surges, and for a moment I see her through its eyes: running through the cemetery, tears she won't let fall burning in her eyes. The crown's mark burns beneath my skin in response, a sharp reminder of everything that's yet to come.

"Run if you must, little flame," I murmur to the empty air. "But remember—some bonds can't be broken. Not even by fear."

The mist coils tighter, carrying the echo of her heartbeat. Of their worry. Of destiny slowly, inexorably, pulling them all toward what they're meant to become.

Together.

If only they knew.