Page 76 of Crown of the Mist

I press my palm against the symbol, and everything changes.

The mist surges, wrapping around us all in a cocoon of silver light. The mark beneath my fingers burns cold then hot, pulsing in time with my heartbeat - with all our heartbeats. Like six hearts finally beating as one.

Then the world goes white.

48. Unknown

The etherscreams.

Not with pain - with recognition. With awakening. With the kind of joy that breaks worlds and remakes them anew.

I grip the edges of my scrying mirror, watching silver light explode through the mist that connects our realms. Centuries of waiting, of watching, of guiding her soul back to us again and again... and finally,finally, she remembers.

No. Not remembers. Not yet. But she's opening to it, to them, to the bond that's written in the very fabric of our existence. I can feel it in my bones, in the ether that flows through my veins - she's accepting what she is. What they are. What we've always been.

Their souls shine like beacons through the mist - five points of light surrounding her radiance. Even now, after all this time, they found theirway back to her. As they always do. As they always will.

Gray. His soul burns sharp and bright, the shadow-walker who's guarded her through a thousand lifetimes.

Rhett. Steady as flame, his warrior's spirit unchanged by death and rebirth.

Jace. Light incarnate, his brilliance dimmed but never extinguished by the cycles of time.

Wes. Silent and deadly as winter's first frost, his devotion outlasting empires.

Theo. Knowledge seeker, dream weaver, his quiet power a perfect balance to her storm.

And her...Gods, but she glows. The ether surges around her like it's finally found its heart again, its queen, its reason for being. My fingers trace her image in the mirror, an echo of a touch I haven't been allowed in centuries.

"You're finding your way back," I whisper, watching the power build around them all. "You're finally letting yourself remember what it means to be loved by them. By all of us."

The mark on the door - my mark,ourmark - pulses with ancient magic. Soon the crown that's waited so long will rest again upon her brow.

I press my palm flat against the mirror, feeling the ether respond to my touch. It yearns towardher, drawn by the magnetism of her awakening strength. The mirror ripples beneath my fingers as her power surges again, and for the first time in longer than I care to remember, I smile.

She's coming home to us. To all of us.

49. Bree

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 butmovingwith 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.