Page 38 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

The cemetery is too quiet in the wake of Bree's departure. Gray still has a firm grip on Jace's arm, though the fight has drained from both of them. The mist lingers at our feet, restless and cold, like it's as torn as we are between chasing her and letting her go.

"She heard us wrong," Jace says, his voice rough. "In the attic. She must have—"

"She heard exactly what she expected to hear," I cut in, the words tasting bitter. "What she's been conditioned to expect."

Movement catches my eye - Rhett, still staring at the daisy in his palm. It pulses faintly, the glow matching the rhythm of the mist swirling around us. Something about the sight tugs at my memory, like a half-remembered dream.

We've been here before.

The thought comes unbidden, nonsensical. But it settles in my chest with a weight that feels somehow familiar.

"She's going back to her apartment," Gray says, finally releasing Jace. His sharp eyes scan the horizon where Bree disappeared, calculating. "It's what she knows."

"It's not safe," Wes says quietly. He stands slightly apart from us, his dark eyes focused on something distant. "Not with Phil—"

"Phil's the least of our concerns right now," I say, though the words feel wrong even as they leave my mouth. Like I'm missing something crucial. "She thinks we see her the way he does. The way her father does."

Rhett's fingers close around the daisy, and I swear the temperature drops several degrees. "We have to fix this."

"How?" Jace demands, running a hand through his hair. "She won't even look at us. Won't let us explain—"

"Then we don't explain," Gray cuts in, his voice carrying that edge of steel it gets when he's found a solution none of us will like. "We show her."

The mist shifts, coiling around our feet in a pattern that makes my head spin. For a moment, just a breath, it forms shapes that look almost like crowns before dissolving back into formless vapor.

"Show her what?" Wes asks, but there's something in his tone that suggests he already knows.

"Everything," Gray says simply. "No more holding back. No more careful distance. We show her exactly what she means to us."

The words resonate through me like a bell being struck, stirring something that feels older than memory. My hands tingle with phantom sensation, like they remember touching something ancient and powerful.

"She'll run," Jace warns, but he doesn't sound convinced.

"She's already running," I point out, my analytical mind racing ahead even as that strange feeling of déjà vu persists. "At least this way she'll know what she's running from."

Rhett finally looks up from the daisy, his green eyes burning with something that makes my breath catch. "Or what she's running to."

The mist surges around us, and for a heartbeat, I see... something. Colors that shouldn't exist, power that feels as natural as breathing. Then it's gone, leaving only the certainty that we're standing on the edge of something vast and inevitable.

"We find her first," Gray says, already moving toward his truck. "Then we deal with Phil."

"And her father?" Wes asks, falling into step beside him.

Gray's jaw tightens. "One battle at a time."

But as we follow him out of the cemetery, that feeling of recognition lingers. Like we've fought this battle before, in another time, another place. Like we've always been meant to find our way back to her.

The daisy in Rhett's hand pulses once more, bright enough to cast shadows, before fading to a steady glow. None of us mention it. None of us have to.

Some things don't need words to be understood.

Some bonds don't need explanation to be felt.