Page 22

Kaia

The moment I step fully into the chamber, the world changes.

What seemed vast from the doorway now feels infinite inside, towering columns disappear into shadows far above, their surfaces etched with spiraling patterns that shift when I'm not looking directly at them.

The air is thick with magic, pressing against my skin like a physical weight.

My shadows coil tightly around me as I take it all in, the ancient power of this place humming in my bones. The Hall of Echoes isn't just a name, whispers seem to drift through the air, fragments of conversations long past, remnants of those who stood here before.

Before I can process it all, something slams into me.

It's not physical, not even entirely magical, but it drags me down like a riptide, knocking the breath from my lungs. My knees give out before I can stop them, the stone floor cold against my palms as I catch myself.

Pain explodes in my chest.

Not an injury. Not magic.

Something else.

Something worse .

It's the same ache I've felt since arriving in this realm, the one that started as a dull pull and has only grown stronger. But now, it's unbearable, pressing against my ribs like it's trying to tear me apart from the inside out.

My shadows curl around me instinctively, but it doesn't help. Bob tries to form a protective barrier while Patricia's frantic movements blur together. Even Mouse presses against my leg, his violet eyes wide with concern, but none of it stops the pressure building inside me.

I hear movement, a curse muttered somewhere behind me, but it's distant, unimportant. The only thing that matters is the weight pressing into me, the way my lungs feel like they can't fully expand, the way the ache is sharpening instead of fading.

"Kaia."

Kieran's voice is sharp, his presence suddenly in front of me, kneeling. His golden eyes burn with something I can't name—concern, but also anticipation. "Breathe."

I try, but the pressure in my chest is suffocating.

Revna steps closer, her eyes scanning me carefully before her expression tightens. "It should have stabilized by now."

"What should have stabilized?" Finn demands, stepping forward.

"The magic, the bonds," Kieran says tightly. "This Hall was built to reinforce connections."

Finn frowns. "Then why does she look like she's about to pass out?"

I grit my teeth, pressing my palm against my ribs. "Because something is wrong."

The ache should be fading.

I don't know how I know that, but I do .

This place, this Hall, is doing something to me, something to all of us. The energy here presses against my skin, wrapping around something deep inside me, something I don't understand but feels like it has always been there.

The pull gets stronger.

It's unbearable, like my body is splitting apart at the seams. I feel them. Not individually at first, but then the bonds snap into focus one by one, each with its own distinct sensation burning through me.

Kieran's bond hits first, ancient and golden, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. It carries wisdom and power that feels older than time itself, steady and unwavering. But there's something else there too, a familiar ache, like we've done this dance before.

Malrik's connection flows like liquid shadow, cool and deep.

It resonates with my own shadows, which writhe and reach for his instinctively.

His bond feels like midnight and starlight, like secrets whispered in darkness.

My shadows coil tighter, recognizing their prince even as I struggle to process what's happening.

Finn's bond crackles with barely contained chaos, wild and bright and dangerous, like lightning captured in a bottle. It fizzes through my veins like champagne, making my skin tingle with untamed magic that somehow feels perfectly right despite its unpredictability.

The twins' bonds hit together—Aspen and Torric's connections intertwined but distinct. Aspen's feels like spring steel, flexible but unbreakable, while Torric's burns like banked embers, all controlled power waiting to ignite. Their berserker strength hums through the connection, raw and primal .

My shadows dance erratically around me, responding to each new bond as it locks into place.

Bob seems particularly agitated, his usually rigid form rippling with tension.

Patricia's shadowy movements become frantic, like she's trying to document everything happening all at once.

Mouse just presses closer, his violet eyes fixed on me.

The Hall itself seems to pulse in response, the ancient runes flaring brighter with each connection that solidifies.

The air grows thicker, heavy with power that swirls visibly around us like golden mist. The stone beneath my hands warms, thrumming with energy that seems to reach up through my palms and into my chest, anchoring each bond in place.

I can see the others feeling it too. Kieran's muscles flex and shiver beneath his skin.

Malrik's shadows writhe around him, reaching toward mine.

Finn's chaos magic sparks visibly in the air around him, while the twins' branded runes transform—Aspen's ice rune frosting over completely, Torric's fire rune burning through his shirt like molten light.

The realization sends a wave of panic through me.

This isn't supposed to be real.

I've been pretending this ache I felt was something I could ignore, something I could fight.

But now I feel them. All of them.

Tangled threads pulling tighter, locking into something solid, unbreakable. Each connection distinct but harmonious, like pieces of a puzzle I didn't know needed solving. They don't compete, they complement, strengthening each other in ways I don't understand but can feel deep in my bones .

My stomach twists with both terror and something dangerously close to belonging. I try to shove it down, try to push it away, but the Hall isn't letting me. It's cementing something that I am not ready for.

"Make it stop," I whisper, pressing my forehead against the cold stone. "Make it stop."

No one answers.

Because they can't.

The bonds are real. I can't pretend anymore.

Kieran exhales sharply, his eyes glinting with ancient power. His voice is lower when he speaks, strained in a way I've never heard from him. "It's done."

The words send a bolt of white-hot rage through me. He brought us here knowing exactly what would happen. Knowing it would force these bonds into place whether we were ready or not. My shadows sharpen in response, their edges becoming lethal.

I don't move.

I don't breathe.

My hands curl into fists against the stone floor, anger burning hotter than the pain of the bonds.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the pain fades.

Not completely, not all at once, but enough that I can take a breath without feeling like my ribs might shatter. The rage, though—that doesn't fade at all.

My hands are still shaking as I push myself up, but now it's as much from anger as from the aftermath of what just happened. I barely register the way Finn moves forward like he's debating whether or not to help me, my glare fixed on Kieran .

Torric takes a step back, his expression carefully blank. Aspen is looking anywhere but at me.

No one speaks.

No one knows what to say.

And then, as I force myself to my feet, my body stiffens.

Because something is still missing.

The ache that should be gone isn't.

It's less, but it's not fixed.

And I know, deep down, why.

Because one of them isn't here.

Revna exhales quietly, rubbing her temple. "There's another."

The weight of those words settles over the room like a heavy stone.

Kieran doesn't move, doesn't blink, but I feel the sharp pulse of his magic. "No," he says, but this time it's not denial—it's dread.

I want to feel satisfied at his obvious discomfort, at this unexpected complication to whatever he planned. But I'm too angry, too overwhelmed by everything that's just been forced upon us.

The Hall didn't just confirm the bonds that were here.

It confirmed the one that's missing.

And I think, wherever they are—

They just felt it too.

Walter drifts silently between us, his strange purplish light pulsing faster than usual. He seems drawn to the empty space where something—someone—should be, hovering there like he's trying to fill it. But he can't. None of us can.

The rage builds inside me like a gathering storm. My shadows respond, their edges becoming razor-sharp, coiling tighter with each breath I take. Mouse presses against my leg, a silent guardian as my fury threatens to spill over.

The Hall of Echoes suddenly feels too small, too confining, the ancient magic pressing against my skin like an unwelcome touch. I force myself to stand straighter despite the trembling in my limbs.

Kieran takes a step toward me, his golden eyes unreadable. "Kaia—"

I hold up my hand, cutting him off. I don't trust myself to speak. The bonds pulse inside me, unwanted and forced into place by his machinations. If I open my mouth now, I might unleash something we can't take back.

Instead, I turn away, every muscle in my body rigid with restraint. My shadows lash in tight, controlled spirals—betraying the chaos I refuse to show. Bob moves ahead of me, clearing a path to the door, while Patricia's frantically writing shadow follows at my heels.

The others watch me go, their newly forged bonds to me vibrating with tension. I can feel their confusion, their concern, their uncertainty.

Let them feel it.

Let Kieran wonder what I'm thinking.

Let him worry about what comes next.

Right now, I need distance before I do something I'll regret.

The ancient stone seems to whisper beneath my feet as I walk away, leaving them all standing in the echoing silence of a Hall that has taken something precious from us all.

Our choice.