Page 64 of Crown of the Mist

Phil stands in the doorway of the supply room, his bulk filling the space in a way that makes my skin crawl. His eyes are glassy, that dangerous kind of drunk that makes men think they're invincible.

"You can't be in here," I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds. "This is a restricted area."

He grins, showing too many teeth. "Funny thing about restricted areas - they're real good for private conversations."

The mist surges around my feet, colder than ice, as Phil takes a step forward. Another step. Myback hits the shelves, supplies rattling behind me.

"Your daddy says hi," he slurs, close enough now that I can smell the whiskey on his breath. "Says you've been avoiding his calls. That's not very nice, princess."

The old nickname hits like a slap. My father's voice echoes in my head:Come here, princess. Daddy needs you.

"Get out." The words scrape out of my throat as the mist rises higher, coiling around my wrists like living smoke.

Phil's hand shoots out, grabbing my throat and slamming me against the shelves. Supplies crash around us as he presses closer, his other hand sliding down my side with sickening purpose.

"Finally," he growls, his eyes shifting to an unnatural silver. "Your father always called you princess didn’t he. Almost fitting, isn't it?"

The pet name hits like a trigger. My father's voice echoes:Show daddy what you can do, Princess.

Something inside me snaps.

The mist explodes outward, but Phil doesn't stagger back in fear. He laughs - a harsh, grating sound as ice crystals form where the mist touches him. His grip tightens on my throat as power surges through me, ancient and familiarand terrifying.

"That's it," he hisses, his accent shifting to something older, something not of this world. "Let it out. Let me taste that power."

His free hand glows with sickly green light as he reaches for my chest, right where my heart pounds against my ribs. The mist writhes, recoiling like it can sense something is wrong.

Pain. Not from him, but from inside me. A sharp pressure behind my ribs, a weight that wasn’t there before.

Phil smiles. "Yes, there it is," he breathes, his fingers inches away—

The mist erupts before he can touch me.

This time when the mist strikes, it's not just cold - it's a wave of pure force that tears Phil away from me. He hits the wall but lands gracefully, that unnatural silver gleam in his eyes growing brighter.

"Well done," he says, straightening his shirt with inhuman calm. "Your father will be pleased to know the binding is finally breaking. Though he may not appreciate how I... accelerated the process."

The word hits like a trigger, and the mist surges again. This time when it strikes, Phil flies backward, slamming into the wall hard enoughto knock the breath from his lungs. He crumples, wheezing, as frost spreads across the floor in intricate patterns.

I stare at my hands, at the mist swirling between my fingers like it belongs there. Like it's always belonged there. This isn't like before - this isn't just the mist reacting. This is me. This is power I can feel thrumming under my skin, that’s somehow familiar and completely terrifying.

Footsteps pound down the hall - Jace, bursting through the door with Theo right behind him. Their expressions shift from panic to something darker as they take in the scene: the upended supplies, the frost still crystallizing in the air, the mist coiling around me like a storm.

"Bree." Jace's voice catches as he starts forward, but Phil's laugh stops him cold.

"Perfect timing," Phil says, that unnatural silver still gleaming in his eyes. "Make sure she doesn't try to run. She'll need her strength for what's coming."

"The only thing coming is me breaking your jaw," Jace snarls, but Phil just smiles - that same cruel twist of lips that haunts my nightmares.

"Such loyal dogs," he says, his accent still carrying that strange, otherworldly lilt. "Always circling, always protecting. But you don't even know what you're protecting her from, do you?"

Theo moves with fluid grace, positioning himself between Phil and me. "Leave. Now."

Phil straightens his collar, utterly calm despite the ice still clinging to his skin. "My work here is done anyway," he says smoothly. His gaze lingers on me, and for the first time, I realize he’s not afraid. Not at all.

"It won’t be long now, princess. When you wake up… you’ll understand everything.”

He turns and walks away - not stumbling, not fleeing, but moving with deliberate purpose. Like everything that just happened was exactly according to plan.