Page 49 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

The world spins back into focus slowly, like I'm surfacing from deep water.

The attic looks different now, bathed in silver light that seems to pulse from the very walls.

My palm still tingles where it pressed against the door's mark, and the guys' presence behind me feels like anchor points in a storm.

The mist swirls thick and purposeful around us all, no longer just following but moving with intent. It coils between us like liquid starlight, connecting us in ways I can't explain but somehow understand in my bones.

"Bree?" Theo's voice comes soft and steady from my left. "Are you okay?"

I nod, though 'okay' doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling. Everything feels sharper, clearer, like I've spent my whole life looking through foggy glass and someone's finally wiped it clean.

"The door," Gray says, his usual sharp tone hushed with something like awe. "Look."

The mark beneath my palm pulses once, bright enough to cast shadows, then slowly begins to fade. In its place, lines of silver light spread like cracks in ice, tracing patterns across the dark wood that look familiar somehow. Like something from a dream I can't quite remember.

And there - pushing through the seams where door meets floor - those same crystalline daisies from the yard are growing, their stems impossibly strong as they wind upward.

The green growth that started as just a hint days ago now blooms with purpose, trailing patterns of light that match the door's fading mark.

"I've seen this before," Wes murmurs, moving closer. His quiet presence steadies me as the door begins to hum beneath my touch. "In the mist, sometimes. When it shows me things..."

The daisies pulse in time with the vibration building in the door, their crystalline stems chiming that impossible sound we heard in the yard. Not violent but insistent, like they're trying to help reveal what the door's been keeping safe all this time.

Rhett's hand settles on my shoulder, warm and grounding. "Together," he reminds me softly, echoing our earlier promise.

"Always," Jace adds from my right, his usual playful tone stripped to something raw and honest.

The mist surges around us, and this time I don't fight it.

I let it flow through me, around me, connecting us all like stars in a constellation I'm only now beginning to see.

The door shimmers, and I feel something click - not in the wood, but deeper.

Like a key turning in a lock I didn't know I carried.

The door swings open.

Silver light spills out, but it's different from the mist. Older. Wilder. The room beyond shouldn't exist - the attic isn't big enough to hold this space that feels endless and intimate all at once. Ancient stones line walls that pulse with their own inner light, and in the center...

"Oh," I breathe, the sound barely a whisper.

The crown hovers in a column of light, delicate and devastating in its beauty.

It looks like it's been woven from solidified mist, all flowing lines and impossible angles that catch the light like diamonds but move like smoke.

As I step closer, drawn by something, I see patterns etched into its surface - the same marks from the door, from the daisies, from every dream I've ever had but couldn't remember upon waking.

The guys move with me, their presence steady at my back. The mist weaves between us, around us, through us, until I can't tell where it ends and we begin. Everything feels connected, like pieces of a puzzle finally shifting into place.

"Bree," Gray says softly, a world of meaning in that single syllable.

I reach for the crown, my fingers still shimmering with that strange light from the daisies. The mist surges, wrapping around my hand like a living thing, guiding me forward.

The moment my fingers brush the crown, a voice echoes through my mind - ancient and familiar all at once, like a memory of something that hasn't happened yet:

"Welcome home, Queen of the Mist."

The world goes white again, but this time I'm not afraid.

This time, I know I'm not alone.