Page 75 of Crown of the Mist

"After last night..." I start, then stop, unsure how to put into words how different everything feels. How the mist seems more alive, more purposeful. How my skin buzzes with something that feels like recognition, like waking up.

"After last night," Gray finishes for me, "you finally let yourself accept what's always been true." His sharp green eyes meet mine, intense but not overwhelming. "That you belong here. With us."

The daisies pulse brighter, their glow reflecting in Gray's eyes as he watches me. The mist weaves around us both now, and I swear I can feel his steady heartbeat through it, like we're connected by something older than memory.

"I'm not good at this," I whisper, though I'm not sure if I mean the magic or the intimacy or both.

"You don't have to be good at it." His hand moves finally, fingers brushing mine in the grass. "You just have to be willing to try."

The touch sends warmth spreading through my palm, up my arm, settling in that place in my chest that ached for so long. The daisies shimmer brighter, their crystalline stems chiming softly in the morning breeze.

And for the first time, I don't pull away.

The daisies chime, a sound like crystal wind chimes that shouldn't be possible from flowers. The noise draws attention - I hear the back door open, familiar footsteps crossing the dewy grass.

"That's new," Theo says softly, coming to stand behind us. His presence feels steady, grounding,after our night in the study.

Wes appears like a shadow at Gray's shoulder, his dark eyes fixed on the glowing flowers. The mist seems to reach for him, coiling around his ankles in greeting. Rhett and Jace aren't far behind, and suddenly we're all here, drawn to whatever's happening with these impossible blooms.

"They're not just glowing anymore," I say, echoing Gray's earlier observation. "They're changing. Growing into something... different."

As if responding to my words, the crystalline stems begin to pulse with light, sending waves of warmth through the ground beneath my knees. The patterns on the petals shift and swirl, forming and reforming into shapes that look familiar somehow.

"The door," Wes says suddenly, his quiet voice carrying in the still morning air. "The mark on the attic door - it's the same pattern."

He's right. The swirls match exactly what I traced on that strange door, the one that wouldn't open for any of them. The one that felt like it was waiting for something.

The mist thickens around us, no longer just drifting but moving with purpose. It weaves between us, connecting us all like a web of silver light. The sensation is different now - warmer, more alive. Like it's trying to tell us something.

"Bree," Rhett says, his voice low and careful. "Your hands."

I look down to find my fingers glowing faintly where they touch the grass near the daisies, the same shimmer as the flowers seeping into my skin. But it doesn't feel wrong or frightening. It feels... right. Like something clicking into place.

"The attic," I whisper, certainty flooding through me though I couldn't say why. "We need to go to the attic."

The attic feels different in the pre-dawn light, the space charged with something that makes my skin tingle. The guys follow me up silently, their presence steady at my back as I move toward the door that's haunted my thoughts since I first saw it.

The mist flows with us, thick and purposeful now, carrying the same warm energy as the daisies below. My fingers still shimmer faintly, and I can feel echoes of that crystalline chime vibrating in my chest.

"The mark," Wes murmurs, coming to stand beside me. "It's clearer now."

He's right. The strange symbol seems to pulse in the dim light, its flowing lines more defined than before. Like it's been waiting for this moment. For us.

"Can you feel it?" I ask softly, not sure how to explain the pull I feel, the way the air seems to thicken with possibility.

"Yes," Theo says from my other side, his quiet voice certain. "It's like..."

"Like coming home," Gray finishes, moving closer. His sharp eyes are focused on the door with an intensity that would normally make me nervous. But nothing about this feels wrong or frightening.

Rhett's warm presence settles behind me, close enough that I can feel his steady breathing. "We're here," he says simply, and I know he means more than just physically.

"Whatever happens," Jace adds, his usual playful tone replaced with something deeper, "we're not going anywhere."

The mist swirls around us all now, connecting us like stars in a constellation. I reach for the door, my still-shimmering fingers hovering near the mark that seems to call to something deep inside me.

"Together?" I whisper, though I'm not sure if I'm asking them or the mist or myself.

Five voices answer as one: "Together."