Page 77 of Crown of the Mist

"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 somethingclick- 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 atmy 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.