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CHAPTER 19

LUCAS

S ophia stands in the center of the glyph ring, her bare feet firmly planted on the earth as if she were a child of the storm itself. The wind whips around her, tousling her hair and tugging at the edges of her garments, but her stance remains unwavering. Her pulse is a steady drumbeat amid the chaos, yet I can sense the effort it takes to maintain such calm amidst the tempest.

A faint luminescence shimmers beneath her skin, barely perceptible at first but steadily intensifying, like the first light of dawn breaking through the night. The gate hums in response to her presence, attuning itself to the unique cadence of her blood, resonating with the echo of Lina’s mark that she bears. A palpable tension crackles and dances in the surrounding air, charging it with energy.

I want to tear it down. Rip it apart with my teeth and make sure nothing ever touches her again. But that’s not the play. Not yet.

“We go in together,” I say, turning to face the others. Max stands near the wall, wiping the last of the blood from his blade. Kylie adjusts her bindings and mutters something under her breath about suicidal plans. Oscar reloads, silent as always. My eyes land on Sophia last. “But once we’re inside, we follow the plan.”

She looks at me questioningly. “Which part? The bait, the blood, or the part where you try to fry a semi-sentient gate with a lightning tantrum?”

I step in close. “The part where I use the storm you anchored to me to end this.”

Her mouth curves like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. She nods instead, slow and sharp. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then I bury it. And whatever’s inside it.”

The others don’t flinch. They’ve seen enough to know I mean it. Sophia doesn’t flinch either. She’s learning. Or maybe remembering.

I lay the plan out fast and clear.

“The outer glyph ring is attuned to her,” I say, jerking my chin toward Sophia. “When she steps into it and bleeds, it’ll trigger the final sequence. That’s when the gate will flare—open, just a little. That’s the window. I’ll feed my power into it. It’ll think it’s being answered. If I can push enough current into the anchor line, the feedback will flare every active sigil.”

Kylie whistles low. “And we just... what? Ride it out?”

“No,” I say. “You and Max destroy the anchor sigils the second they glow. You’ll know them. They’ll be tied to her blood and mine. Anything that responds when the surge hits? Kill it.”

Oscar looks up. “And if something comes through?”

I meet his gaze dead-on. “We kill that too.”

Sophia crosses her arms. “You’re putting your soul in its hands, Lucas.”

“No,” I say, stepping toward her. “I’m putting mine in yours.”

She doesn't blink. Just reaches for the knife at her thigh and nods. “Then let’s give the gate a show.”

The chamber appears transformed this time. It feels colder, as if the chill has seeped into the very walls, and hungrier, as though it has developed an insatiable desire.

At the center of the dais, the shattered windglass has partially reformed—not fully restored, but enough to resemble the shape of a door. Behind it, the pulse is steady now, a rhythmic throb that has replaced the previous erratic surges and unpredictable spikes. It waits expectantly… for her.

Together, we move as a single entity down the shadowy corridor, where glyphs illuminate beneath our feet in lazy, spiraling paths, casting a warm glow that seems to welcome us back with familiarity.

Kylie is the first to break away from the group, her footsteps echoing softly as she heads toward the eastern ring to set her charges with precision. Max veers off to the west, his movements purposeful and calculated. Meanwhile, Oscar stands vigil at the entry point, his blade hanging loosely at his side, ready yet relaxed, as if he is a sentinel guarding the threshold.

Sophia walks alongside me, her steps as silent as a whisper in the night. Her hand brushes against mine just once, a brief and fleeting touch, then it’s gone. Yet that moment is enough. Her scent envelops me, a mix of storm and heat, anchoring me to this moment. She is claimed. She is mine.

I have an overwhelming urge to seize her hand and flee, to whisk her away from this place and bury the entire mountain beneath us. But I resist. We must stay, must see this through if we want to bring an end to it all. With determination, she steps into the ring of glyphs, and the stone beneath her feet springs to life.

The air around us pulls taut, charged with anticipation. Glyphs along the outermost circle ignite in succession, each one flaring to life in a perfect, mesmerizing spiral. The sharp scent of ozone intensifies, mingling with the tension in the air. Beyond the windglass, something stirs—slow and sinuous, as if testing the limits of its reach with a deliberate grace.

I raise my hands to the heavens, summoning the storm. It responds with a deep, pulsing rumble that resonates beneath my skin. I feel its power coiling within my chest, winding through my limbs like a living force, ready to be unleashed.

Sophia draws her knife, moving to my side as the others file out. She doesn’t speak right away, just threads her fingers through mine like she’s anchoring herself with the contact. I stop her before the corridor and pull her close.

“Ready? This doesn’t happen without you,” I murmur. “You do this, we end it. We break Lina’s chain.”

Her voice is tight but steady. “And if it takes me with it?”

I tilt her chin until her eyes meet mine. “It won’t. I won’t let it.”

Her lips part like she wants to argue. I cut her off with a kiss—not soft, not slow. Final. Possessive. She leans into it like she needs the taste of me to steady her next step. She is afraid. She knows what I’m asking her to risk… so do I.

The gate pulses once as we enter, like it recognizes us. No creatures come forward this time. No malformed hybrids. Just silence.

She draws the blade across her palm with a deliberate, steady motion. As the sharp edge slices her skin, crimson droplets begin to trickle and fall to the ground, leaving a small, dark trail.

The gate responds immediately, almost as if it has a life of its own. The ornate windglass set into the structure bursts with a blinding radiance, its light so intense it forces eyes to squint or turn away. The very earth beneath our feet trembles with a deep, rumbling vibration, while the air around us transforms, becoming frigid and sharp, biting at exposed skin like a winter gale.

And then she materializes. In the midst of the intricate glyph rings that encircle the space, standing between us and the ominous gate, is Lina.

This is no mere vision or fleeting memory; she stands before us, as real as the chill in the air—though not entirely whole. Her form wavers and shifts, trapped in a strange state of half-spirit, half-solid existence. Black runes etched into her skin in an eerie pattern adorn her body, crawling like living leeches. Her eyes burn with an inner fire, molten and intense, and her hair cascades down in wild, unruly tendrils, a chaotic mix of blood-red strands and the unruly gusts of a tempest.

Sophia freezes. Her hand tightens around the blade.

Lina turns. Her mouth curves.

“You came,” she says, and her voice is wind and venom. “The gate chose well.”

I step in front of Sophia, stormlight burning at my palms. “You don’t speak to her.”

Lina’s gaze slides over me. “Still trying to protect what’s already mine?”

“You didn’t mark her. I did.”

Lina smiles. “You marked a vessel. The gate marked an heir.”

Sophia moves beside me, shoulders squared. “You don’t get to decide who I am.”

Lina cocks her head. “Don’t I? You were always meant for more than being Windrider, child. More than stormborn. You were meant to be eternal.”

Sophia doesn’t answer.

Lina steps closer. She’s not walking. She’s gliding—just above the glyphs. “Your father feared this. That’s why he buried the blade. Why he tried to burn the maps.”

I flare the storm again, a warning. The light cracks across the stone.

Lina doesn’t blink.

“Feed it,” she whispers. “The gate hungers. It sings for your blood, your bond. Give it what it wants, and it will give you everything.”

Sophia’s voice is like steel. “You don’t know what I want.”

“I know what you were born to be.”

Sophia steps forward with determination. Her blood drips steadily onto the intricate glyphs etched into the ground, each drop sparking with energy. The light flares brilliantly, casting vibrant reflections across the clearing. Lina flickers in and out of view, her presence a wavering silhouette against the sudden illumination.

That’s the signal. I raise both hands, feeling the power surge through me. The storm detonates outward, a force of nature unleashed. Mist erupts from my skin, swirling around me in a tempest of silver and shadow, racing along the glyph lines like a living entity. The gate pulses with a deep, resonant thud—just once—before the anchor sigils ignite with an ethereal glow.

Now.

Kylie and Max become blurs of motion, their movements swift and precise. Glyph by glyph, sigil by sigil, they methodically set them ablaze. Stone crumbles beneath their touch, disintegrating into dust. Light shatters like glass, scattering into a thousand radiant fragments.

Lina screams—a piercing, high-pitched sound—her form disintegrating at the edges, unraveling like a tapestry caught in a violent wind.

Sophia strides into the heart of the ring. The windglass hums with a resonant frequency, vibrating as if alive. I move toward her, the stormlight still cascading from my body in a relentless torrent. Lina reaches out, desperation in her eyes, her mouth open in a silent plea.

I strike.

The wind surges forward, engulfing her. Not completely. Not forever, but enough to diminish her presence. She vanishes in a swirling burst of mist, her form dissipating into nothingness. And the gate—the gate begins to close, its ancient mechanisms grinding to a halt, sealing the way with finality.

Stone shatters, sending jagged shards flying as the mountain lets out a thunderous groan, echoing through the cavern like a beast in agony. I seize Sophia with urgency and yank her back with all my strength. “Now!” I bellow over the din. Max and Kylie stand poised at the tunnel entrance, weapons raised and eyes scanning the chaos. Oscar grips Sophia’s other arm, pulling with a fierce urgency that matches the situation.

The chamber erupts into a deafening roar as it splits apart, the sound like a thousand storms unleashed at once. Ancient glyphs etched into the walls ignite in a dazzling flare, blazing for a heartbeat before extinguishing into darkness. The final ring explodes in a searing flash of white-hot light so intense it burns our retinas, leaving spots dancing in our vision.

Fueled by desperation, we sprint, each step a frantic plea for survival. Behind us, rocks crash down with relentless fury, the ceiling beam collapsing with a resounding smash that sends debris flying in a lethal rain. The rhythmic pulse of the gate has ceased, a harbinger of the mountain’s doom as its foundations crumble into oblivion.

“Faster!” I scream, shoving Kylie ahead with all the force I can muster. Sophia staggers beside me, her energy drained, a crimson trail trickling steadily from her palm. I catch her just before she crumples, holding her steady. “I’ve got you,” I assure her with conviction.

She nods, speechless, each breath a ragged gasp. The corridor behind us collapses with a terrifying rumble, swallowing the path we had just traversed.

“Light—daylight up here!” Max shouts from ahead, his voice laced with urgency and hope.

We don’t pause for a second. The ground begins to crumble beneath my feet as I lunge forward, dragging Sophia with me. We burst into the outer corridor, where the ancient walls splinter and crack like fragile bones beneath a great weight.

Oscar drops his pack, flinging the outer door open with a wild yank. Sunlight floods in, a brilliant cascade of warmth and life. We hurtle into it, gasping for air, our hearts pounding in unison with the chaos left behind.

The mountain lets out a final, earth-shaking roar—a sound of ultimate surrender—and then the gate chamber is no more. Utterly gone, buried beneath an avalanche of rock, blood, and the horrors we refused to unleash.

I drop to my knees in the frost-dusted grass outside the ruins, Sophia pressed against my chest. She’s breathing. Barely. But she’s breathing.

Max crouches nearby, one hand over his heart like he just remembered it’s still beating. Kylie slumps beside Oscar, blade still in her lap.

The air is quiet.

Then Sophia lifts her head. Her eyes find mine. “I think… we won,” she says with a grin.

I nod once. “I believe you may be right.”

She closes her eyes. Her voice is so soft I almost miss it. “But it’s not over.”

And I know she’s right. Not yet.