Flirting with the dark, p.35
Flirting With the Dark, page 35
A breath.
One grounded moment.
Then they descended.
The Descent
The deeper they stepped into the earth,
the darker the world became—
but Rowan wasn’t blind.
Not anymore.
Her vision adjusted in three layers:
gold tracing magic,
white illuminating pathways,
shadow revealing the things hidden between.
She saw cracks in the walls that weren’t cracks at all—
they were runes buried under centuries of dust.
She saw pulses of ancient seam-light like veins.
She saw faint footprints in the dirt.
Her opposite’s footprints.
She froze.
Kael immediately noticed.
“What is it?”
Rowan crouched, touching the faint impression on the dusty stone floor.
“She was here. Recently. Minutes ago, maybe less.”
Elias growled low in his throat.
“She’s trying to lead us.”
Kael’s voice was ice.
“Or mislead us.”
Rowan lifted her head.
“She’s not running. She’s waiting.”
Elias crouched beside her, shadows flickering.
“And she wants you to know it.”
Rowan nodded.
“Yes.”
Kael scanned the walls again.
“Then we assume traps.”
Elias smirked.
“Already do.”
Rowan stood slowly.
As they reached the bottom of the winding stair,
the hallway split into two paths—
both lined with ancient symbols.
Kael stepped forward, studying each set.
“This path,” he said, pointing to the left,
“leads to an archival chamber. Old knowledge. Records.”
“And the other?” Elias asked.
Kael hesitated.
“It leads to the heart of the ruins.”
Rowan’s glow flickered.
“That’s where she’s going.”
Elias nodded.
“And that’s where we’re going.”
But Kael didn’t move.
He stepped in front of Rowan, blocking the center path.
“Rowan. Look at both paths.”
She frowned but obeyed.
To her left—
the hallway glowed faintly gold.
Knowledge.
Memory.
History written in symbols.
To her right—
the hallway pulsed with fractured white light.
A heartbeat she recognized.
A pull she couldn’t deny.
Elias glanced between the two.
“You’re seeing something we aren’t.”
Rowan swallowed.
“The left path is truth.”
She pointed shakily.
“The right path is danger.”
Kael nodded slowly.
“Then the answer is clear.”
Rowan stared at him.
“No. No, Kael—we need to go right.”
Elias grabbed her wrist gently.
“And get separated? Or walk straight into her trap? Rowan, she wants you to choose the right path.”
Rowan shook her head, breath trembling.
“And the left path warns me I don’t have time.”
Kael stiffened.
“What do you mean?”
Rowan touched her chest—
her core pulsed painfully, like a tug from the right-hand hall.
“She’s already started something.
Something connected to my final transformation.”
Elias’s mouth tightened.
“And you think going left will slow us.”
Rowan nodded.
Kael studied her closely.
“Rowan.”
His voice was low. Serious.
“If she’s ahead of us, and she’s started something, and the heart of the ruins triggers your transformation—”
“I don’t have a choice,” Rowan whispered.
Elias stepped close, grabbing her face with shaking hands.
“You always have a choice.”
Rowan’s breath broke.
“This isn’t about choosing her or choosing you. This is about stopping something before it’s too late.”
Kael exhaled sharply.
“She’s forcing your hand.”
Rowan nodded.
“Yes.”
Elias’s shadows gripped her waist.
Kael stepped close behind her.
“We’ll go right,” Kael said quietly.
Elias glared, on instinct.
“Kael—”
Kael didn’t look at him.
“If Rowan feels something is happening now, we don’t split. We don’t delay.”
Rowan stared at Kael with wide eyes.
“You trust me that much?”
Kael met her gaze.
“With everything.”
Elias hesitated, torn open between fear and faith.
Then he nodded.
“Fine. But we move together.”
Rowan exhaled shakily.
“Thank you.”
Kael placed a hand on her back.
“Choose the path, Rowan.”
Rowan turned—
and stepped to the right.
The hallway dimmed behind them as they walked.
The air grew colder.
Tighter.
Heavier.
And then—
The ground vibrated.
A voice whispered through the walls:
“You’re late.”
Elias’s shadows spiked.
Kael pulled Rowan behind him.
Rowan’s heart stopped.
Her opposite stepped out of the darkness ahead.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Exactly where Rowan knew she’d be.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
The opposite stepped from the darkness like she’d always belonged there—
a silhouette carved from fractured starlight,
silver-black hair floating in currents Rowan couldn’t feel,
eyes shimmering with white cracks suspended over the void.
She looked wrong in the ancient hallway.
Wrong in the air Rowan breathed.
Wrong in Rowan’s bones.
But familiar.
Too familiar.
Elias moved in front of Rowan instantly, shadows forming a wall of roiling darkness.
Kael stepped to Rowan’s right, seam-light sparking at his palm.
The opposite only smiled.
“You came faster than I expected,” she said lightly, tilting her head.
“Good.”
Rowan felt a shiver crawl under her skin.
“Why are you here?” she whispered.
The opposite’s eyes glittered.
“Because you are.”
Elias growled.
“Pick another line before I rip it out of your mouth.”
She blinked at him—slow, almost curious.
“You’re attached,” she murmured.
“How inefficient.”
Rowan felt Elias’s anger pulse through the bond.
Kael stepped forward, his voice low and steady.
“You called her here. You left a message. Why?”
The opposite lifted her hand, fingertips shimmering with fractured light.
“To show her something.”
Elias stepped fully between Rowan and the opposite, shadows swirling like a living barrier.
“She’s not seeing anything you want her to.”
The opposite’s gaze slid past him as if he weren’t there.
“That’s not up to you.”
Rowan’s pulse hammered.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, forcing her voice steady.
The opposite’s smile widened.
“You already are,” she whispered.
And Rowan realized—
the air around her felt thick,
her core humming louder than before,
the ruins themselves vibrating to her presence.
Like the place woke for Rowan alone.
“Rowan,” Kael murmured, “your glow—look.”
Rowan glanced down.
Light flickered at her sternum—
bright gold, faint shadow, pale threadlight.
The convergence was reacting.
To her.
To the ruins.
To her opposite.
Elias swore softly.
“Angel, she’s triggering your core.”
Rowan shook her head quickly.
“No. The ruins are triggering it. She’s just—she’s just echoing it.”
The opposite’s eyes warmed with something like pride.
“You’re learning.”
Rowan’s stomach twisted sharply.
“Don’t... talk to me like that.”
“You sound frightened,” the opposite said softly.
“You should be.”
Kael’s seam-light burst in his hand like a silent crack.
“That’s enough.”
But the opposite didn’t look at him.
She looked at Rowan.
Only Rowan.
“Your power expanded during the convergence,” she murmured.
“But you didn’t step through the final door.”
Rowan stiffened.
“What door?”
Her opposite lifted a finger to her lips.
“Hush. You’re not ready to hear that yet.”
Elias snapped.
“You don’t get to decide what she’s ready for—”
The opposite’s gaze flicked toward him.
A single glance.
Elias choked mid-sentence as his shadows recoiled—
not destroyed,
but forced inward,
as if gravity had reversed around him.
“Do not interrupt,” she said mildly.
Elias staggered.
Rowan screamed.
“STOP!”
The hallway shook—
Rowan’s power bursting outward in a pulse that cracked the stones under her feet.
Elias gasped as the pressure on him vanished.
Kael’s eyes widened.
“Rowan—your core—”
Rowan’s glow blazed like a star flickering too rapidly.
“I said STOP!” she shouted again.
The opposite cocked her head.
“Good,” she whispered.
“Push back. I want you awake.”
Rowan’s pulse trembled violently.
“You’re not teaching me,” she whispered, voice shaking.
“You’re provoking me.”
The opposite smiled.
“Of course.”
Elias caught Rowan’s arm, steadying her.
“Don’t let her inside your head.”
Kael circled slightly to flank the opposite, his seam-light sharpening like a blade.
“Tell us why you called her here.”
The opposite sighed—an oddly human sound.
“You’re all very linear thinkers,” she murmured.
“This isn’t about a place.
It’s about a moment.”
Rowan frowned.
“What moment?”
The opposite extended a hand, palm up.
A sphere of fractured light shimmered above it.
Rowan gasped.
Because inside the sphere—
was memory.
Not hers.
Not the seam’s.
Something older.
A girl, kneeling in the ruins.
Glowing bright.
Light pouring from her core—
before it split.
Before it fractured.
Before it became...
Rowan.
Rowan staggered backward.
“What... what is that?”
The opposite looked almost tender.
“That,” she whispered,
“is the first convergence.
The one before you.”
Elias’s eyes widened.
Kael inhaled sharply.
Rowan’s breath caught painfully.
“There was another?” she whispered.
The opposite nodded slowly.
“Yes. And she didn’t survive it.”
Rowan felt the world tilt.
Elias’s shadows surged around her protectively.
Kael stepped closer, voice trembling just a little.
“What killed her?”
The opposite met Rowan’s eyes.
“You did.”
Silence swallowed the ruins whole.
Rowan’s voice broke.
“What are you talking about?”
The opposite stepped closer.
“You are her echo.
Her successor.
Her continuation.”
Rowan shook her head violently.
“No—no, that makes no sense—”
“She failed,” the opposite murmured,
“and the seam recycled her power into you.”
Rowan collapsed to her knees.
Elias dropped beside her instantly, gripping her shoulders.
Kael knelt at her other side, grounding her with both hands.
Rowan whispered, shredded:
“I killed her...?”
The opposite tilted her head.
“No. The seam did.
But you replaced her.”
Rowan’s tears blurred her vision.
“Why would you show me this?”
The opposite stepped back.
“Because you need to understand what you are.”
Elias stood, shadows surging, fury sharp enough to cut stone.
“She doesn’t need anything from you.”
Kael rose beside him, seam-light cracking like lightning.
“Enough games.”
The opposite smiled.
“Not games.
Preparation.”
Rowan looked up, shaking.
“For what?”
The opposite’s fractured eyes gleamed.
“For the moment you become more than convergence.”
Kael’s breath stopped.
Elias went still.
Rowan whispered:
“What else could I become?”
The opposite stepped backward into the shadows.
“You already feel it.
You already know.”
Rowan shook her head, trembling.
“No—no, I don’t—”
The opposite’s final words echoed down the hall as she vanished:
“You don’t become balance.
You become the seam.”
The light extinguished.
The ruins went silent.
Rowan collapsed.
And both Elias and Kael reached for her at the same time—
terrified she already was becoming something beyond their reach.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Rowan barely felt the floor when her knees hit the stone.
The world was a roar inside her—
light, shadow, seam energy all pulsing too fast,
too bright,
too much.
Her opposite’s final words still echoed inside her skull:
“You don’t become balance.
You become the seam.”
Elias caught her shoulders before she fell further.
Kael was already kneeling behind her, hands at her spine, grounding her with steady pulses of seam-light.
Rowan trembled violently.
“No,” she whispered.
“No, I won’t— I’m not—”
Her glow flickered uncontrolled, brightening and dimming in frantic bursts.
Elias cupped her face, forcing her gaze to his.
“Rowan. Breathe.”
Kael’s voice was a low anchor.
“Stay with us. Focus on my voice.”
Rowan squeezed her eyes shut.
But she wasn’t falling apart.
She was coming loose.
Her power, her core, her pulse—
everything widening, stretching outward
as if the ruins called to her
and the seam wanted to reclaim what it believed was its own.
Elias growled softly.
“It’s the ruins. They’re amplifying her.”
Kael’s voice was tense but steady.
“No. It’s her opposite. She triggered something and left.”
Rowan let out a broken sob.
“I can feel it—
I can feel the seam pulling at me—
I can feel... everything—”
Elias pressed his forehead to hers.
“Look at me. Only me.”
Rowan tried.
She really did.
But her vision flickered with three layers—
gold, shadow, white—
overlapping like she no longer saw the world in one dimension but all at once.
Kael’s hand slid up her spine, steady and firm.
“You’re not the seam,” he said quietly.
“You’re you.”
Rowan gasped.
“Then why does it feel like something inside me is trying to escape?”
Kael hesitated.
Elias whispered:
“Because your opposite woke up a door that wasn’t ready to open.”
Rowan’s heart slammed painfully.
“The final transformation,” she breathed.
“She wants to force it.”
Elias wrapped both arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest.
“Then we stop it.”
Kael placed a hand on Rowan’s sternum.
Her glow surged beneath his palm.
He winced—but didn’t pull away.
“Rowan,” he murmured,
“listen to me.”
Rowan tried again to breathe.
Kael leaned close—forehead brushing the back of her shoulder.
“You don’t become the seam because she tells you to,” he said softly.
“You become whatever you choose.”
Elias nodded fiercely.
“You hear me? We decide this. Not her. Not the ruins. Not destiny. Us.”
Rowan swallowed hard.
She forced her shaky hands up—
one gripping Elias’s collar,
the other catching Kael’s wrist.
“I don’t know how to stop it,” she whispered.
Kael’s hand tightened under hers.
“You don’t stop it.”
He leaned closer.
“You steer it.”
Rowan lifted her head, trembling.
“How?”
One grounded moment.
Then they descended.
The Descent
The deeper they stepped into the earth,
the darker the world became—
but Rowan wasn’t blind.
Not anymore.
Her vision adjusted in three layers:
gold tracing magic,
white illuminating pathways,
shadow revealing the things hidden between.
She saw cracks in the walls that weren’t cracks at all—
they were runes buried under centuries of dust.
She saw pulses of ancient seam-light like veins.
She saw faint footprints in the dirt.
Her opposite’s footprints.
She froze.
Kael immediately noticed.
“What is it?”
Rowan crouched, touching the faint impression on the dusty stone floor.
“She was here. Recently. Minutes ago, maybe less.”
Elias growled low in his throat.
“She’s trying to lead us.”
Kael’s voice was ice.
“Or mislead us.”
Rowan lifted her head.
“She’s not running. She’s waiting.”
Elias crouched beside her, shadows flickering.
“And she wants you to know it.”
Rowan nodded.
“Yes.”
Kael scanned the walls again.
“Then we assume traps.”
Elias smirked.
“Already do.”
Rowan stood slowly.
As they reached the bottom of the winding stair,
the hallway split into two paths—
both lined with ancient symbols.
Kael stepped forward, studying each set.
“This path,” he said, pointing to the left,
“leads to an archival chamber. Old knowledge. Records.”
“And the other?” Elias asked.
Kael hesitated.
“It leads to the heart of the ruins.”
Rowan’s glow flickered.
“That’s where she’s going.”
Elias nodded.
“And that’s where we’re going.”
But Kael didn’t move.
He stepped in front of Rowan, blocking the center path.
“Rowan. Look at both paths.”
She frowned but obeyed.
To her left—
the hallway glowed faintly gold.
Knowledge.
Memory.
History written in symbols.
To her right—
the hallway pulsed with fractured white light.
A heartbeat she recognized.
A pull she couldn’t deny.
Elias glanced between the two.
“You’re seeing something we aren’t.”
Rowan swallowed.
“The left path is truth.”
She pointed shakily.
“The right path is danger.”
Kael nodded slowly.
“Then the answer is clear.”
Rowan stared at him.
“No. No, Kael—we need to go right.”
Elias grabbed her wrist gently.
“And get separated? Or walk straight into her trap? Rowan, she wants you to choose the right path.”
Rowan shook her head, breath trembling.
“And the left path warns me I don’t have time.”
Kael stiffened.
“What do you mean?”
Rowan touched her chest—
her core pulsed painfully, like a tug from the right-hand hall.
“She’s already started something.
Something connected to my final transformation.”
Elias’s mouth tightened.
“And you think going left will slow us.”
Rowan nodded.
Kael studied her closely.
“Rowan.”
His voice was low. Serious.
“If she’s ahead of us, and she’s started something, and the heart of the ruins triggers your transformation—”
“I don’t have a choice,” Rowan whispered.
Elias stepped close, grabbing her face with shaking hands.
“You always have a choice.”
Rowan’s breath broke.
“This isn’t about choosing her or choosing you. This is about stopping something before it’s too late.”
Kael exhaled sharply.
“She’s forcing your hand.”
Rowan nodded.
“Yes.”
Elias’s shadows gripped her waist.
Kael stepped close behind her.
“We’ll go right,” Kael said quietly.
Elias glared, on instinct.
“Kael—”
Kael didn’t look at him.
“If Rowan feels something is happening now, we don’t split. We don’t delay.”
Rowan stared at Kael with wide eyes.
“You trust me that much?”
Kael met her gaze.
“With everything.”
Elias hesitated, torn open between fear and faith.
Then he nodded.
“Fine. But we move together.”
Rowan exhaled shakily.
“Thank you.”
Kael placed a hand on her back.
“Choose the path, Rowan.”
Rowan turned—
and stepped to the right.
The hallway dimmed behind them as they walked.
The air grew colder.
Tighter.
Heavier.
And then—
The ground vibrated.
A voice whispered through the walls:
“You’re late.”
Elias’s shadows spiked.
Kael pulled Rowan behind him.
Rowan’s heart stopped.
Her opposite stepped out of the darkness ahead.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Exactly where Rowan knew she’d be.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
The opposite stepped from the darkness like she’d always belonged there—
a silhouette carved from fractured starlight,
silver-black hair floating in currents Rowan couldn’t feel,
eyes shimmering with white cracks suspended over the void.
She looked wrong in the ancient hallway.
Wrong in the air Rowan breathed.
Wrong in Rowan’s bones.
But familiar.
Too familiar.
Elias moved in front of Rowan instantly, shadows forming a wall of roiling darkness.
Kael stepped to Rowan’s right, seam-light sparking at his palm.
The opposite only smiled.
“You came faster than I expected,” she said lightly, tilting her head.
“Good.”
Rowan felt a shiver crawl under her skin.
“Why are you here?” she whispered.
The opposite’s eyes glittered.
“Because you are.”
Elias growled.
“Pick another line before I rip it out of your mouth.”
She blinked at him—slow, almost curious.
“You’re attached,” she murmured.
“How inefficient.”
Rowan felt Elias’s anger pulse through the bond.
Kael stepped forward, his voice low and steady.
“You called her here. You left a message. Why?”
The opposite lifted her hand, fingertips shimmering with fractured light.
“To show her something.”
Elias stepped fully between Rowan and the opposite, shadows swirling like a living barrier.
“She’s not seeing anything you want her to.”
The opposite’s gaze slid past him as if he weren’t there.
“That’s not up to you.”
Rowan’s pulse hammered.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, forcing her voice steady.
The opposite’s smile widened.
“You already are,” she whispered.
And Rowan realized—
the air around her felt thick,
her core humming louder than before,
the ruins themselves vibrating to her presence.
Like the place woke for Rowan alone.
“Rowan,” Kael murmured, “your glow—look.”
Rowan glanced down.
Light flickered at her sternum—
bright gold, faint shadow, pale threadlight.
The convergence was reacting.
To her.
To the ruins.
To her opposite.
Elias swore softly.
“Angel, she’s triggering your core.”
Rowan shook her head quickly.
“No. The ruins are triggering it. She’s just—she’s just echoing it.”
The opposite’s eyes warmed with something like pride.
“You’re learning.”
Rowan’s stomach twisted sharply.
“Don’t... talk to me like that.”
“You sound frightened,” the opposite said softly.
“You should be.”
Kael’s seam-light burst in his hand like a silent crack.
“That’s enough.”
But the opposite didn’t look at him.
She looked at Rowan.
Only Rowan.
“Your power expanded during the convergence,” she murmured.
“But you didn’t step through the final door.”
Rowan stiffened.
“What door?”
Her opposite lifted a finger to her lips.
“Hush. You’re not ready to hear that yet.”
Elias snapped.
“You don’t get to decide what she’s ready for—”
The opposite’s gaze flicked toward him.
A single glance.
Elias choked mid-sentence as his shadows recoiled—
not destroyed,
but forced inward,
as if gravity had reversed around him.
“Do not interrupt,” she said mildly.
Elias staggered.
Rowan screamed.
“STOP!”
The hallway shook—
Rowan’s power bursting outward in a pulse that cracked the stones under her feet.
Elias gasped as the pressure on him vanished.
Kael’s eyes widened.
“Rowan—your core—”
Rowan’s glow blazed like a star flickering too rapidly.
“I said STOP!” she shouted again.
The opposite cocked her head.
“Good,” she whispered.
“Push back. I want you awake.”
Rowan’s pulse trembled violently.
“You’re not teaching me,” she whispered, voice shaking.
“You’re provoking me.”
The opposite smiled.
“Of course.”
Elias caught Rowan’s arm, steadying her.
“Don’t let her inside your head.”
Kael circled slightly to flank the opposite, his seam-light sharpening like a blade.
“Tell us why you called her here.”
The opposite sighed—an oddly human sound.
“You’re all very linear thinkers,” she murmured.
“This isn’t about a place.
It’s about a moment.”
Rowan frowned.
“What moment?”
The opposite extended a hand, palm up.
A sphere of fractured light shimmered above it.
Rowan gasped.
Because inside the sphere—
was memory.
Not hers.
Not the seam’s.
Something older.
A girl, kneeling in the ruins.
Glowing bright.
Light pouring from her core—
before it split.
Before it fractured.
Before it became...
Rowan.
Rowan staggered backward.
“What... what is that?”
The opposite looked almost tender.
“That,” she whispered,
“is the first convergence.
The one before you.”
Elias’s eyes widened.
Kael inhaled sharply.
Rowan’s breath caught painfully.
“There was another?” she whispered.
The opposite nodded slowly.
“Yes. And she didn’t survive it.”
Rowan felt the world tilt.
Elias’s shadows surged around her protectively.
Kael stepped closer, voice trembling just a little.
“What killed her?”
The opposite met Rowan’s eyes.
“You did.”
Silence swallowed the ruins whole.
Rowan’s voice broke.
“What are you talking about?”
The opposite stepped closer.
“You are her echo.
Her successor.
Her continuation.”
Rowan shook her head violently.
“No—no, that makes no sense—”
“She failed,” the opposite murmured,
“and the seam recycled her power into you.”
Rowan collapsed to her knees.
Elias dropped beside her instantly, gripping her shoulders.
Kael knelt at her other side, grounding her with both hands.
Rowan whispered, shredded:
“I killed her...?”
The opposite tilted her head.
“No. The seam did.
But you replaced her.”
Rowan’s tears blurred her vision.
“Why would you show me this?”
The opposite stepped back.
“Because you need to understand what you are.”
Elias stood, shadows surging, fury sharp enough to cut stone.
“She doesn’t need anything from you.”
Kael rose beside him, seam-light cracking like lightning.
“Enough games.”
The opposite smiled.
“Not games.
Preparation.”
Rowan looked up, shaking.
“For what?”
The opposite’s fractured eyes gleamed.
“For the moment you become more than convergence.”
Kael’s breath stopped.
Elias went still.
Rowan whispered:
“What else could I become?”
The opposite stepped backward into the shadows.
“You already feel it.
You already know.”
Rowan shook her head, trembling.
“No—no, I don’t—”
The opposite’s final words echoed down the hall as she vanished:
“You don’t become balance.
You become the seam.”
The light extinguished.
The ruins went silent.
Rowan collapsed.
And both Elias and Kael reached for her at the same time—
terrified she already was becoming something beyond their reach.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Rowan barely felt the floor when her knees hit the stone.
The world was a roar inside her—
light, shadow, seam energy all pulsing too fast,
too bright,
too much.
Her opposite’s final words still echoed inside her skull:
“You don’t become balance.
You become the seam.”
Elias caught her shoulders before she fell further.
Kael was already kneeling behind her, hands at her spine, grounding her with steady pulses of seam-light.
Rowan trembled violently.
“No,” she whispered.
“No, I won’t— I’m not—”
Her glow flickered uncontrolled, brightening and dimming in frantic bursts.
Elias cupped her face, forcing her gaze to his.
“Rowan. Breathe.”
Kael’s voice was a low anchor.
“Stay with us. Focus on my voice.”
Rowan squeezed her eyes shut.
But she wasn’t falling apart.
She was coming loose.
Her power, her core, her pulse—
everything widening, stretching outward
as if the ruins called to her
and the seam wanted to reclaim what it believed was its own.
Elias growled softly.
“It’s the ruins. They’re amplifying her.”
Kael’s voice was tense but steady.
“No. It’s her opposite. She triggered something and left.”
Rowan let out a broken sob.
“I can feel it—
I can feel the seam pulling at me—
I can feel... everything—”
Elias pressed his forehead to hers.
“Look at me. Only me.”
Rowan tried.
She really did.
But her vision flickered with three layers—
gold, shadow, white—
overlapping like she no longer saw the world in one dimension but all at once.
Kael’s hand slid up her spine, steady and firm.
“You’re not the seam,” he said quietly.
“You’re you.”
Rowan gasped.
“Then why does it feel like something inside me is trying to escape?”
Kael hesitated.
Elias whispered:
“Because your opposite woke up a door that wasn’t ready to open.”
Rowan’s heart slammed painfully.
“The final transformation,” she breathed.
“She wants to force it.”
Elias wrapped both arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest.
“Then we stop it.”
Kael placed a hand on Rowan’s sternum.
Her glow surged beneath his palm.
He winced—but didn’t pull away.
“Rowan,” he murmured,
“listen to me.”
Rowan tried again to breathe.
Kael leaned close—forehead brushing the back of her shoulder.
“You don’t become the seam because she tells you to,” he said softly.
“You become whatever you choose.”
Elias nodded fiercely.
“You hear me? We decide this. Not her. Not the ruins. Not destiny. Us.”
Rowan swallowed hard.
She forced her shaky hands up—
one gripping Elias’s collar,
the other catching Kael’s wrist.
“I don’t know how to stop it,” she whispered.
Kael’s hand tightened under hers.
“You don’t stop it.”
He leaned closer.
“You steer it.”
Rowan lifted her head, trembling.
“How?”
