The realm is quieter than usual.
No footsteps.
No watching eyes.
Not even the hum of magic shifting under the stone.
Just silence.
And for once, it doesn't feel like a trap.
It feels like an invitation.
The corridor I'm in isn't familiar—-though I'm certain it lies beneath the same bones as the places Freyr walked me through for weeks.
But this one branches left, where it used to end.
And now…..it doesn't.
There are no torches here. No lights.
Just faint threads of gold and gray in the walls——not glowing like magic, but alive like veins.
I follow them without meaning to.
Not because magic is pulling me.
Because something deeper is.
The air gets colder. Not biting——-just clean. Untouched.
The runes on the wall begin to change——less orderly, less symmetrical. Not the Court's rigid language.
Older. Curved.
Alive.
I pass through a narrow arch half-buried in dark stone. It brushes against my shoulders like a gate that hasn't opened in years.
And then I see it——-
A door.
Plain. Heavy. Covered in ash-root and old vine.
It shouldn't open.
Not without magic.
Not without Freyr.
But it does.
It opens the moment I raise my hand.
Because it knows me now.
The realm knows who I am.
The chamber beyond is round and still.
Quiet in a way Nox never is.
Not lifeless.
Just sacred.
At its center sits a low stone pedestal carved with familiar shapes—-interwoven threads, like the mark on my chest.
Not perfectly matched, but close.
Like this place remembers what I carry.
I step inside, slowly.
The air is warmer here, laced with something old and steady. Something alive.
The walls shimmer faintly with polished dark stone——not glass, but close.
Mirrors.
Most are cracked, dulled by time.
But one in the back remains intact.
I don't mean to step toward it.
But I do.
It doesn't show my reflection.
It shows…..movement.
Images.
Flickers.
Freyr, younger, standing in a room I've never seen, speaking to someone. Freyr cloaked in shadow. I can't hear the words. But I see the urgency in his face. The desperation.
The mirror shifts——
Justin in bed talking with his parents.
I can't hear what they are saying. But they look...scared.
Then I see why.
The mating bond mark on his chest.
His eyes are wide.
Not in fear.
In recognition.
The mirror goes dark.
I don't move.
Because I understand now:
This place was built for control.
But to control what?
I stay still for a long time after the mirror fades.
The images——Freyr in desperation, Justin with the mark——won't leave me.
They settle somewhere deep, somewhere I can't reach with reason or denial.
I should leave.
Should find a way back someone realizes I've gone this far.
But i don't.
Because I don't think I was ever meant to stay on the path Freyr laid for me.
My eyes drift back to the pedestal in the center of the room. The threads carved into the stone glint faintly, catching light that shouldn't be there.
I step forward, slowly.
Then I reach out.
The moment my fingers brush the surface——light sparks.
Soft and golden, not like Freyr's magic.
This is something else.
The carved threads begin to glow—-spreading from the pedestal across the floor, curling outward like veins reaching for the surface.
They stop at my feet.
Then shift.
Forming a path.
Not forward.
Not backward.
Down.
The stone under me groans, and part of the floor reshapes——kits slight. Enough to reveal a new stairwell, hidden in the dark.
The mark over my heart pulses in response.
Once.
Not in warning.
In recognition.
I don't know where it leads.
But for the first time since the bond reignited, I don't feel pulled.
I feel called.
I take the first step.
And the door behind me seals quietly shut.