Freyr's POV
The chamber is silent except for the faint hum that radiates from the mirror's surface, still rippling from Sarah's touch. I step closer, fingertips brushing the cold, reflective glass, feeling the lingering warmth of her magic. So potent already—so volatile.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" I murmur softly, directing my words toward the shadows pooling at the room's edges.
The darkness shifts slightly, tendrils of shadow coalescing into a vague form—a figure whose face remains hidden by the gloom. But the energy it radiates is unmistakable, powerful and ancient. Dangerous.
"She grows stronger by the minute," the shadow-figure whispers, voice a chilling rasp. "Stronger than you anticipated.
I pull my hand back from the mirror, irritation flickering beneath my careful composure. "I know exactly what she is capable of. It's precisely why we must tread carefully."
The shadows ripple around me, a silent challenge handing between us. "And if you cannot contain her? If her power breaks free from your grasp?"
I straighten, shoulders tensing, my gaze locked on my distorted reflection. I see more clearly than I would ever admit—the fractures forming in my careful plan, the risk looming larger with every heartbeat.
"That won't happen," I reply, forcing a confidence I don't fully feel. "She must embrace it fully. Only then can she be controlled."
"And if she does not?" the shadow persists, the words edged with a warning. "If she resists?"
My jaw tightens. I lean closer to the mirror, watching the reflection warp into something darker, something powerful—Sarah as she could become, unbound, uncontrolled.
"Then she will become something far more dangerous," I say quietly, my voice lowering, thick with reluctant truth. "Dangerous even to us."
The shadows fall silent, absorbing my words like a dark promise. I feel their lingering uncertainty—a perfect reflection of my own fears, fears I would never admit aloud.
As the room grows still, I let out a slow breath, eyes fixed on the glass, where Sarah's faint imprint still flickers like an echo of a storm yet to come.
"She will accept the darkness," I say to myself, almost desperately. "She has no other choice."
Yet even as I say it. I know the truth—that the choice has always been hers.
And if she chooses wrong, we will pay the price.
**********
The shadows retreat slowly, peeling away from my vision in slow, reluctant tendrils. For a long moment, all I can do is breathe, feeling each breath push back against the suffocation weight that clings to my chest. I blink, disoriented, expecting the vision—Cassie's accusation, Ryan's betrayal, the ghostly echo of my own dark reflection—-to still surround me. But I'm alone.
Alone, in Freyr's chamber, where silence sits heavy like a tangible force.
The cold air settles against my skin, sinking into my bones. The only sound is the faint crackle of magic lingering in the stone walls, pulsing in rhythm with the racing of my heart. I glance down at my trembling fingers, remembering the shadowed version of myself—powerful, terrifying, and so unsettling calm.
Slowly, I lift my hand, hesitating as I concentrate on the feeling that had overtaken me moments before. It's still there, a dark thread winding its way through my veins, steady and patient. It's waiting. For me.
I close my eyes, focusing inward. The darkness responds immediately, pressing eagerly against my thoughts. A flicker of power brushes through my fingertips, cool and silken. When I open my eyes, shadows coil gently around my hand like smoke. I watch them move, fascinated and terrified by how easily they respond. How natural it feels.
Is this who I am now? The question whispers through me, laden with unease.
"You've taken the first step."
Freyr's voice drifts softly across the chamber, startling me. I turn sharply to find him standing by the open doorway, watching me with an unreadable expression. His eyes track the shadows still dancing around my fingers, and a quiet satisfaction briefly crosses his features.
"What did I see?" My voice is steadier than I expect, though inside I still feel shaken. "Was it real?"
Freyr tilts his head slightly. "Real enough," he replies carefully, stepping forward. "It was a reflection of truth—yours and theirs. And yet, truth is rarely as simple as you'd hope."
I swallow hard, my throat tight. "Cassie….Ryan. They spoke like they blame me. Is that…..real too?"
Freyr's expression softens, but it's impossible to trust the sincerity behind it. "It's complicated. Blame, betrayal, power—they're intertwined in your story. What you say wasn't false, but it's not the entire truth, either."
I shake my head, frustration flaring. "Then what's the point? Showing me all this if I still don't understand anything?"
He studies me for a moment, the intensity of his gaze pinning me in place. "Understanding isn't the first step, Sarah. Acceptance is. You can't control something you don't first accept."
I look away, my fingers still tangled in shadows. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's anything but easy," he counters gently, though his tone remains firm. "But denying what you are won't protect you—or anyone else."
The silence returns, oppressive, filled with unanswered questions. I feel small, trapped between who I was and who I'm becoming. My thoughts circle back to the vision, to Cassies's eyes bright with betrayal, Ryan's hardened face, and the darker version of myself, powerful and cold. Is that really my future? Is that really the price I must pay?
I finally look up, meeting Freyr's calm, waiting gaze. "You said there's a cost. That I'll lose myself. Is there no way to avoid it?"
Freyr takes a measured step closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone, almost sympathetic. "Power always changes us, Sarah. It strips away illusions, and yes, sometimes it demands sacrifice. But how much you lose—how much you keep—that remains up to you."
I tighten my grip, letting the shadows dissipate slowly. The darkness retreats, but not entirely—-it lingers in my pulse, steady, reassuring, but dangerous. I can feel its promise, tempting me closer to the edge of control.
"Then how do I stop myself from becoming….her?" I whisper, afraid of the answer by desperate for reassurance.
He watches me carefully before answering, each word precise. "By accepting the darkness without losing sight of why you chose it. Your humanity is still there, Sarah. Hold onto it. Let it anchor you."
I nod slowly, taking a shaky breath. "And if I can't?"
Freyr's eyes glint with quiet intensity. "Then the darkness will shape you into someone you won't recognize. You'll become everything you fear—and everything you desire."
A shiver ripples down my spine, but I straighten my shoulders, gathering what little strength I have left. "I won't let that happen."
He smiles faintly. "Good. Keep that conviction. You're going to need it."
He turns slowly toward the door, pausing at the threshold to look back once more. "You've faced your fear. Now prepare yourself, Sarah. The hardest part is yet to come."
With that, he leaves me alone again, the chamber empty but for the quiet hum of dark magic lingering in my veins.
I sink down onto the cold stone, pulling my knees to my chest, breathing deep to steady myself. Freyr's words echo relentlessly, each one carving deeper into my heart.
Acceptance.
Control.
Sacrifice.
But the shadows whisper back, soft and inviting, making a promise I'm afraid to admit I desperately want:
Power.
Freedom.
Truth.
And as I sit alone, caught between the fear of losing myself and the intoxicating promise of what I might become, I wonder which voice will win in the end—-and if, when it finally does, I'll even recognize myself.
*********
Natalia's POV
I stand across the street, hidden in the shadows cast by the flickering streetlamp. Sarah's house looms quietly in the dark, its windows faintly aglow, unaware of the storm brewing within me. I glance down at my hand, my fingers curled around the small object that's sending pulses of heat and energy up my arm.
One of the pendants.
My heart hammers in my chest, my breathing uneven. I don't know how it ended up with me—stolen, found, or something in between. But it called to me, whispering secrets that burn deep beneath my skin. The pendant hums softly, matching the rhythm of my frantic heartbeat. It feels wrong in my palm, as if it's aware it shouldn't belong to me. Yet it doesn't pull away; instead, it clings tighter, like it knows exactly who I am.
I glance back toward Sarah's window. Anger surges inside me, hot and bitter, mixing dangerously with the guilt and confusion swirling through my thoughts.
Why here? Why is it always Sarah?
I close my eyes, flashes of fragmented memories playing behind my eyelids—my father's distant voice, his secret meetings, his quiet warnings. The bitterness he carried with him, the secrets he thought he'd buried deep enough to forget. But secrets never truly stay buried. They fester, waiting for moments like this to resurface.
"Why did you have to choose her?" I whisper into the cold air, my voice quivering, as though my father might actually hear me from whatever dark place he's been laid to rest. "You sacrificed everything—-for what? For Sarah?"
The pendant pulses sharply, responding to the anger in my voice. The sensation startles me, and I open my eyes quickly, staring down at the glow radiating from between my fingers. It's reacting to me—my anger, my resentment.
I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes, and I push them back roughly. I won't let myself fall apart. Not again.
"You knew, didn't you?" I say softly, more accusation than question. My voice trembles, but I contine, needing to voice the words that have been gnawing at my heart. "You knew exactly who Sarah was. What she was. And you still chose her over me."
The pendant flickers, as if acknowledging my words, and another surge of heat travels up my arm. It almost feels comforting, sympathetic. I stare at it, unsettled by how easily it accepts me, despite everything I'm feeling. Despite everything I've done.
A noise from Sarah's house pulls my attention, and I tense, fading deeper into the shadows. But the porch remains empty, the windows darkened and silent, a hollow reminder that Cassie is gone—taken, another piece lost in this endless game.
I exhale shakily, frustration boiling into my veins.
"You think she's the one," I whisper bitterly into the darkness, as though my father can somehow still hear me. "You thought Sarah could fix what you broke. But you were wrong."
A sharp ache tightens in my chest. I hate feeling this way—torn between fury and grief, envy, and regret. Part of me wants to march up to Sarah's door, confront her, demand to know why she got everything I lost. But another part of me—the part that still remembers laughter, whispers secrets on summer afternoons, friendship—-wants to protect her from the storm I sense is coming.
The pendant pulses again, stronger now as if sensing my inner turmoil. I stare at Sarah's window, my grip tightening until the edges of the pendant dig painfully into my palm.
"If no one else will stop her," I say softly, the words forming a quiet promise, a vow only the darkness can hear, "then I will."
The pendant pulses flares brightly for a heartbeat, casting shadows that curl and writhe around me, before fading back into stillness.
I slip it quickly into my pocket, its weight pressing against me, heavy with the choice I've just made.
Then, drawing my hood tighter around my face, I turn and vanish silently into the night, leaving behind only faint echoes of anger, confusion, and bitter resolve.
*******
The air outside the chamber is thinner than I remember. It presses against my lungs, but not as hard as the silence.
I sit near the edge of the training hall, where the walls begin to darken and the stone glows less. My hands tremble, raw from the magic still humming beneath my skin. I can still feel her—that version of me—etched into the shadows of my mind, like a scar I'm only beginning to understand.
I made it back.
Barely.
But I don't move. Not yet. I can still hear the echo of her voice—my voice—that other version of myself, whispering from the dark.
"You can't escape what you are."
I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath, trying to find the line between what was real and what wasn't.
And that's when I feel it.
A tug.
Deep. Quiet. Not magic exactly, but something older.
Something I've only ever felt when he's near.
I sit up fast, dizzy, heart hammering. My hands brace against the cold stone, and I look toward the corridor.
"Justin?" I whisper.
He stops, like hearing his name out loud is the thing that finally makes it real. His face comes into view—and for a second, I think I'm imagining him. Hallucinating him. But then he moves, and I see the shock in his eyes. The fear. The quiet relief.
"You're here," I say, my voice barely more than a breath.
"I shouldn't be," he murmurs. His voice is hoarse, like he's been running for miles. "I didn't even know I could be."
I rise slowly, unsure if I'm about to cry or collapse. "How–?"
"I don't know," he says, stepping closer. "I felt it the second you left. Like….like something in me cracked open. Like you tore a piece of the world with you. I followed that break. I don't know what else to call it."
He exhales, unsteady. "I thought I was losing my mind. But the pull was real. It dragged me here."
My eyes sting. "You shouldn't have followed."
"I didn't have a choice."
The silence that follows isn't quiet. It hums with magic. With memory. With everything I saw in that trial and everything I still can't say.
He looks at me—really looks—-and his expression changes. He steps closer, eyes searching mine.
"What happened to you?"
I shake my head. "You don't want to know."
"I do."
"I saw what I could become," I say quietly. "If I give in. If I stop fighting."
Justin's expression hardens, not with anger—-but with fear. Not for himself.
For me.
He steps closer, slower this time. "Then don't," he says. "Don't give in."
I laugh–but it's brittle, frayed at the edges. "It's not that simple anymore."
"Then let me help."
I meet his eyes, and for a moment, everything else fades—Freyr, The Court, the darkness clinging to my skin. All I see is Justin. All I feel is a thread tugging between us like it's being pulled too tight.
"You weren't supposed to be here," I whisper.
"I know," he says. "But I am."
And in that moment, I feel it again—that same impossible thing that brought him here. The thread. The magic. The part of me that is tangled with something inside him, something we don't understand yet.
But it's real.
And it just saved me.
But just as the moment settles—-
The shadows shift.
A door opens at the far end of the corridor, and a familiar presence slips into the room like smoke.
Freyr.
His gaze moves between us slowly, lingering on where Justin's hand rests protectively against my back. He says nothing at first, but the silence is thick with implication.
Justin doesn't step away. Neither do I.
Freyr's lips curl into something that might be a smile—-or a threat dressed as one.
"How touching," he says. "The bond has a will of its own, doesn't it?"
Justin stiffens, but doesn't speak.
Freyr walks forward, each step deliberate. "How fortunate that it dragged you through. I was just about to test what Sarah is capable of without distractions."
I step forward, squaring my shoulders, heat building in my chest. "Then maybe it's time you saw what I'm capable of with one."
Freyr stops a few feet away, his expression unreadable. "Interesting."
His gaze narrows slightly, on me, then Justin.
Then the smile returns. "Let's see how far the two of you can go before the bond burns you both alive."
*******
Freyr's footsteps echo as he turns away from us, the sound sharp in the silence. He doesn't need to say "follow me." The air already moves with him—commanding, expectant.
Justin and I exchange a look.
No words. Just that silent understanding that's begun to grow between us: We face this together.
The corridor narrows, lit by veins of red stone that seem to pulse in time with the pendant against my chest. The deeper we go, the more the air thickens—-not just with magic, but with weight. Pressure. Anticipation.
Freyr leads us into a chamber unlike the others. This one is circular, vast, and impossibly high. The stone walls curve inward like a ribcage, and overhead, the ceiling disappears into blackness. Floating orbs of light spin slowly above, their glow casting rippling shadows along the floor.
In the center, a raised platform of obsidian gleams like still water.
"This," Freyr says, turning to face us. "Is a proving ring."
He gestures to the platform. "Stand on it, both of you."
Justin's jaw tightens. "What is this?"
"A test," Freyr replies, as though it should be obvious. "Not just of magic. Of loyalty. Of strength. Of the bond."
I step forward. "You already tested me."
Freyr's eyes flick to me. "Alone. This is different."
I feel Justin's hand graze mine as he moves beside me. Together, we step onto the obsidian ring. The moment both our feet touch it, the air shifts—thickening. A low hum vibrates through the stone, rising up through our shoes and into our bones.
The platform lights up beneath us, glowing with symbols I don't recognize. Fae. Ancient. Alive.
Freyr stands at the edge of the circle, his eyes cold.
"This ring is tied to your magic," he says. "To your fears. To the truth of your connection. If the bond is what you believe it to be, it will protect you. If not…." He tilts his head. "You will be torn apart."
Justin's fists curl at his sides. "You're using her."
"No," Freyr says, calmly. "I'm revealing her."
And then the floor shudders beneath us.
The stone goes dark.
And the world splits.
One breath we're standing on obsidian.
The next—we're surrounded.
A wall of fire erupts on all sides, encircling the ring. The air grows hotter, stinging my skin. But it's not just fire. It's magic. Shifting. Twisting. Testing.
Shapes begin to form in the flames.
Shadows.
Figures from my past. My mother. Ryan. Cassie. Each one of them flickers in and out of focus—-sometimes angry, something pleading. Their voices layer over one another, louder and louder, until I can't tell what's real.
And then—--
Justin disappears.
"Justin!" I spin around, panic slicing through my chest. The fire twists in on itself, and from it, a second version of me steps out.
Cold. Calm. Powerful.
The girl from the trial.
Her eyes glow like silver flame, her face a mirror of mine, only sharper. Empty.
"This is who you're becoming," she says softly. "He won't follow you much longer. Not when he sees what you are."
Behind her, the fire peels back—-revealing Justin trapped in shadow, something pulling him under.
"Sarah!" His voice breaks through the illusion.
This is a test.
I feel it in my bones. It's not just about me. It's about the bond. About whether it holds—whether it can survive who I might become.
I close my eyes. Focus. Reach for the warmth at my chest.
The pendant.
It pulses—once. Twice.
The fire around the ring shatters.
The other me vanishes.
And Justin's hand finds mine again, pulling me into him.
We're both panting. Shaking. But still standing.
The platform flickers once beneath our feet. Then it fades, the glow dying out.
Freyr steps forward.
There's no smile on his face now.
Only silence.
Then, finally.
"You passed."
But the way he says it—-low, unreadable—-makes me wonder if that was what he wanted.
Or if we've just set something in motion we don't yet understand.