Page 43 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

The name echoes in my mind like a half-remembered song.

Thane.

It doesn't belong with my other memories - not the ones I know are real - and yet it feels as vital as breathing. As natural as the mist curling around my fingers.

"Who's Thane?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

The effect is immediate. Five heads snap toward me, their expressions shifting from protective concern to something sharper, more alert. The mist thickens, responding to the sudden tension in the room.

"What did you say?" Gray's voice is carefully neutral, but there's an edge to it I've never heard before.

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to take back the question. "In my dream, there was... a name. Thane." My fingers twist in the soft blanket. "It felt important."

Wes moves toward me, his dark eyes intent. "I've been trying to figure that out myself."

"What do you mean?" Theo asks, his analytical focus shifting to Wes.

"The name," Wes says quietly. "It's been... appearing. In dreams. Like something I should remember but can't quite grasp."

The mist swirls between us, heavier now, almost expectant. I catch movement near the mysterious door - a subtle shift in the shadows that draws my eye. For a moment, I swear I see something green in the crack beneath it, but when I blink, it's gone.

"You're having dreams too?" Jace asks, his usual playful demeanor stripped away. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it didn't make sense," Wes replies, his gaze meeting mine. "Not until now."

Rhett shifts closer to the bed, his presence steady but thrumming with contained energy. "What else was in the dream, Bree?"

I close my eyes, trying to sort through the fragments. "Power. Phil was... taking it. Different kinds - fire, ice, air, water, shadow. But the mist..." I pause, remembering how it felt. "The mist stayed. Like he couldn't see it. Couldn't touch it."

"Like it was protecting you," Gray says softly. It's not a question.

I open my eyes to find him watching me with an intensity that should be frightening but somehow isn't. "Yes."

The room falls quiet, heavy with unspoken understanding.

The mist drifts between us, connecting us in ways I'm only beginning to comprehend.

My gaze is drawn again to the door, and this time I'm certain - there's something growing in the crack where it meets the floor.

Something small and green and impossibly alive.

"The daisies," I whisper, more to myself than them. "They've always been there too, haven't they? Like the mist."

"They're different now," Theo observes, following my gaze to the window where the planted ones glow softly in the growing dusk. "Since you manifested your power."

"Everything's different," I say, but the words don't carry the fear they should. Instead, they feel like truth finally breaking free.

The mist pulses gently, wrapping around each of us like it's trying to tell us something. Like it's been trying to tell us something all along.

"We'll figure it out," Rhett says again, but this time when he reaches for my hand, I let him take it. His skin is warm against mine, grounding me in this moment that feels both strange and inevitable.

My eyes drift back to the door, to that hint of green pushing through impossible cracks. Something is changing. Something is growing.

And somehow, I know we're running out of time to understand what it all means.

A heavy silence settles over us, thick with unspoken thoughts. Then, as if unable to take the weight of it anymore, Jace pushes to his feet with a groan.

"Alright, enough doom and gloom. She needs food."

"I’m fine," I start, but Jace just raises an eyebrow. "Your stomach begs to differ, sweetheart."

Before I can argue, he stretches dramatically and heads for the stairs. "I'll grab something. If I leave it up to Theo, it'll be some sad protein bar and a lecture about nutritional balance."

"Excuse me," Theo deadpans, shifting from his spot near the bed. "I’ll have you know my taste in literature is impeccable, and that’s more important right now." He disappears for a moment before returning with a book, setting it down beside me. "Something to distract you."

Rhett stands next, grabbing an extra blanket from the chest and draping it over my legs without a word. I don’t argue. His warmth lingers where the fabric settles, calming me more than I want to admit.

Gray stays near the door, his arms crossed, watching everything like he’s expecting trouble. Wes stands beside the bed, steady and silent, his dark eyes taking in every detail.

A few minutes later, Jace reappears, balancing a bowl of what smells like his famous chicken soup. The others watch as he sets it down with a flourish, along with a plate of fresh bread and a bottle of water.

"I'm not an invalid," I protest, but my stomach betrays me with an audible growl.

"No one said you were," Theo responds calmly, setting the bowl on the small table beside the bed. "But after today..."

He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to. The weight of everything - the dreams, the name that shouldn't mean anything but does, the power growing inside me - sits heavy in the air between us.

"Fine," I sigh, accepting the bowl. The warmth seeps into my palms, grounding me in the moment. "But you don't all have to hover."

"We're not hovering," Jace says, dropping onto the floor with his usual dramatic flair. "We're keeping you company. Totally different thing."

Gray takes up position near the window, his sharp eyes scanning the darkening yard where the daisies still glow faintly.

Rhett settles against the wall, close enough to reach if needed but giving me space.

Wes remains near the door, quiet but present, while Theo perches on the edge of the bed with careful precision.

The soup is perfect - rich and comforting in a way that makes my chest ache. I can't remember the last time someone brought me food in bed, cared enough to make sure I ate. The thought threatens to overwhelm me, but I focus on each spoonful, on the quiet conversation flowing around me.

"Try the bread," Jace insists, breaking off a piece and passing it up. "I didn't even burn it this time."

"Miracle of miracles," Theo mutters, but there's fondness in his tone.

The mist drifts lazily around us, touching each of them in turn like it's making sure they're really here. Like it wants them to stay as much as part of me does.

When I finish eating, they show no signs of leaving.

Jace sprawls on his back, launching into a story about his latest real estate disaster that has even Gray cracking a smile.

Theo grabs a book, settling in like he plans to be here a while.

Rhett and Wes exchange looks I can't quite read, but neither moves toward the door.

"You don't have to stay," I say finally, though my voice lacks conviction. The massive bed I’m in, its size suddenly making a strange sort of sense.

"We're not leaving," Rhett says simply, already settling onto the floor near the window.

The others move with quiet purpose - Theo gathering extra blankets from the chest, Gray positioning himself near the door like a sentinel, Jace sprawling on his back with deliberate casualness that doesn't quite hide his watchfulness.

"This is ridiculous," I mutter, perched on the edge of the bed that could easily fit all of us. "You can't sleep on the floor."

"Watch us," Jace quips, though his usual playful tone carries an edge of something fiercer. Something protective.

Wes takes position near the headboard, his back against the wall, dark eyes steady. "Sleep, Bree. We'll be here."

But sleep feels impossible with them arranged around me like guardians, their presence both comforting and overwhelming. I pull my knees to my chest, watching as Theo methodically distributes blankets.

"At least take turns on the bed," I try again. "It's huge enough."

"We're fine where we are," Gray says quietly from his post.

I fall silent, knowing better than to argue when they get like this.

Instead, I find myself studying them - the way Rhett's shoulders remain tense even as he settles, how Theo's fingers absently trace patterns in the air like he's puzzling something out, the steady rhythm of Wes's breathing beside me.

"Tell me about the dreams," I say softly, not sure who I'm asking.

Wes shifts slightly, his voice low but clear in the quiet room. "They're fragments mostly. Places I've never been but feel familiar. People I should know but can't quite see clearly." He pauses. "And always the mist, leading me somewhere."

"To a crown," I whisper, the memory sharp and sudden.

The mist thickens around us, and I swear the temperature drops just slightly. By the door, something green pushes through another crack, delicate but insistent.

"What do you think it means?" I ask, not expecting an answer.

"Maybe it means we're supposed to be here," Theo says thoughtfully. "All of us. Together."

The words settle over me with unexpected weight. I glance around at them - these five men who've been my protectors, my anchors, my family for as long as I can remember. The mist swirls between us, connecting us in ways I'm only beginning to understand.

"Together," I repeat softly, testing how the word feels. It should scare me, this closeness, this trust. But tonight, surrounded by them, it feels like coming home.

The conversation drifts, quiet words and shared silences, until exhaustion finally pulls me under. The last thing I remember is Wes's steady presence beside me, the others arranged like stars in their own constellation, and the mist holding us all in its gentle embrace.

For the first time in years, I sleep without nightmares.