Today's chapter feels quieter.
After the chaos, the awakening, and the world almost flipping inside out… this one settles. It's the kind of chapter where everyone finally breathes, processes, and exists like normal humans for five seconds before fate taps them on the shoulder again.
Writing it felt peaceful, like the calm after a storm that didn't destroy the world, only rearranged it.
So take a breath with them.
Enjoy.
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Everything was wrong.
The clearing was no longer earthbound.
Chunks of soil drifted at different heights, torn from the ground like islands that had forgotten where they belonged. Roots dangled in the air. Shattered stones hovered. Grass hung suspended in clumps, turning the sky into a broken, floating garden.
And everyone was stuck in it.
Jamey clung sideways to a half-uprooted tree, legs kicking like he was trying to swim back to sanity. Samuel and Samantha were tangled together, rotating slowly with the shared expression of people who would absolutely blame me for this later. Lady Elsa sat perfectly upright on a slab of drifting earth, as dignified as a queen on a sinking throne.
Seth hung at the center of it all.
Not standing. Not floating. Suspended.
His body glowed from within, gold and silver threading under his skin in pulsing constellations. His eyes were eclipses, dark rings swallowing light. Power wrapped around him like a tide that refused to retreat.
The world listened to him.
He did not seem to hear any of it.
I forced myself upward, using drifting chunks of ground as reluctant stepping stones until I reached him. My heart hammered. The twins twisted in protest.
I grabbed his face, fingers digging into his cheeks.
"Seth. Wake up."
Nothing.
Not a blink. Not a twitch. Not even a flinch.
Pain lanced through my abdomen as the babies reacted, sharp and sudden. My knees threatened to give out.
Fine.
If pleading did not work.
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the suspended world like a verdict.
"If you do not stop this right now, then I am divorcing you."
Somewhere to my left Jamey shrieked, "Do it, man, I cannot die floating like this."
But Seth did not respond.
The stones around us spun faster. The eclipse overhead deepened, moon swallowing light with slow, deliberate hunger. The air pressed inward, dense with power that had nothing to do with choice and everything to do with instinct.
Figures appeared at the edge of the clearing, drawn in by the spiritual shockwave. Sect leaders, prayer warriors, elders. Gabriel stood among them, gaze fixed on Seth. None of them spoke.
The world waited to see what he would become.
I ignored all of it.
I wrapped my hands around his face again, bringing my forehead to his.
"Come back to me."
He did not move.
Reason failed.
Words failed.
Only instinct remained.
I kissed him.
Not gently. Not politely. Not as comfort.
A collision. A demand. A vow.
For one breath, nothing changed.
Then his chest shuddered beneath my hands.
The eclipse in his eyes fractured. Dark rings split like cracked glass, silver flooding back through the breaks. The oppressive weight in the air shifted, not vanishing, but bending.
His light recognized me first.
Then his gaze followed.
His eyes cleared.
He saw me.
For one suspended heartbeat, nothing else existed.
Power bowed.
And Seth, divine and man, returned. Not because he was stopped, but because I called him back.
The spinning stones slowed. The floating earth trembled, caught between obedience and collapse.
He raised his hands.
Power gathered, quiet but commanding. The air shifted, charged with the weight of something divine waking. Gold and silver threaded through the markings beneath his skin, pulsing in time with his breath, the Flame and the Breath moving together like forces meant to be revered, no matter the vessel that carried them.
His right hand lifted.
Two fingers extended.
Precise. Intentional.
The clearing held its breath.
He flicked those two fingers downward.
A sharp, decisive motion.
The world answered.
The suspended terrain slammed back to earth with brutal force. Soil crashed into soil. Stone crushed into place. Roots struck ground like they had been yanked back into their rightful graves. The impact thundered across the clearing, rattling ribs and sending a rolling wall of dust outward.
The earth shuddered, then steadied.
But none of us fell.
We hung in the air, held in the invisible grip of his open left palm. Jamey clung to his tree midair, eyes wide. Samuel had one arm wrapped around Samantha's waist and the other gripping a floating rock. Alec hovered upright, every line of his body tense, his gaze flicking between Seth and me with barely hidden alarm.
Seth did not waver.
He turned his head, silver eyes sweeping the suspended bodies, the restored ground, the thinning eclipse. Above us, the dark ring around the moon flickered, its dominance already fading.
His left hand moved.
Not hurried.
Not hesitant.
Deliberate.
Like a conductor closing the final note of a symphony.
Gravity remembered its purpose. One by one, bodies lowered. Boots brushed against air, then touched solid earth. Knees bent. Feet steadied. It was not tender. It was not cruel.
It was controlled.
Only when the last of us stood on the ground did Seth lower his hand.
Silence stretched across the clearing.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Understanding.
He looked at the world he had just slammed back into place.
Then he looked at me.
He stepped closer and pulled me into him without a word.
The hug was fierce and grounding, his arms closing around me like he was afraid the world might still fall apart if he let go. His breath trembled once against my hair. That was the only sign that any of this had shaken him.
I held him back just as tightly.
Relief hit first, sharp enough to ache.
Gratitude came next, warm and overwhelming.
Something else followed.
Not anger. Not really.
Understanding.
I eased back from his chest and looked up at him. His eyes, still limned in faint silver, searched mine.
"You were not gone," I said quietly. "But you were not here either."
His breath shifted. A tiny change, barely there, but I felt it.
"The full moon amplified you," I went on. "When the eclipse hit, it pushed you from choice into instinct. You felt everything, but you did not get to decide how it moved."
My voice wobbled around the next words.
"I knew you would come back. I knew you would. But for one heartbeat…" I swallowed. "…I thought you chose not to."
I lifted my gaze fully to his.
No accusation.
Just truth.
He did not argue.
He did not make excuses.
We both knew that heartbeat existed.
Around us, people began to move again.
Those who had only felt the eclipse from a distance now stepped fully into the clearing. Sect leaders. Prayer warriors. Warriors from other branches. Gabriel, eyes intent and far too observant for my liking.
Jamey threw his hands up, pacing like a man deeply betrayed by physics.
"For the record," he sputtered, "I was hanging on for dear life while everyone else fell apart. Alec was yelling at the sky, Samuel was whispering prayers like the world was ending, Elizabeth looked ready to fight the moon, and Max was just… floating there. Like gravity personally insulted her."
Alec glared. "I did not yell."
Jamey scoffed. "You yelled emotionally."
Some weary chuckles slipped out, small and frayed around the edges.
The tension did not vanish. It shifted.
I turned back to Seth. There was one more thing that could not wait.
"Seth."
He focused on me instantly.
I drew a breath, steadying myself.
"These powers. The phases of the moon. The way the world responds to you. This is not going away." I shook my head lightly, hair still a mess from sleep and battle and everything in between. "We cannot pretend this was a one time thing."
He watched me carefully.
"The Flame and the Breath chose us," I said. "That does not make us invincible. It makes us dangerous when we are not in balance."
He did not flinch from the word.
He did not look away.
He stepped closer instead, lifting a hand to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheekbone with a touch that warmed rather than burned.
"Max," he said softly, voice meant only for me despite the audience, "I need you to hear this."
The clearing faded.
The trees, the sect leaders, the damaged earth.
For a moment, there was only him.
"No matter what mask I wear," he said. "No matter who I stand beside. No matter what the world demands of me in the days ahead…"
His thumb moved once more, slow and steady.
"…you are the one place I will never pretend."
The words were not loud.
But they settled inside me like a vow carved into bone.
I believed him.
That was the part that would hurt later.
"Good," I said, blinking hard. "Because if you ever do, I will find creative ways to haunt you while still alive."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
The spell broke.
We did not solve anything that day. Not fully. Not cleanly. But the world had not cracked in half, so by our standards, it counted as progress.
Dawn arrived sometime after that, creeping along the horizon with pale light that felt almost disrespectful.
Jamey groaned when he noticed the brightening sky. "I hate mornings, especially when I was never offered a night."
Alec rubbed his face. "I am too tired to threaten anyone."
That was how I knew things were bad.
I scrubbed a hand over my eyes. "You all survived insanity. Congratulations. I am done. I do not care where any of you sleep. Spare rooms, cottages, the shed, the roof. My bed is calling me, and if anyone tries to talk to me before I get there, I will excommunicate them from my life."
No one argued.
We made it back to the house in frayed silence. Some collapsed on couches. Others disappeared toward guest rooms. A few prayer warriors chose chairs outside, as if they needed the sky to remain visible just in case it misbehaved again.
Seth and I reached our room last.
When my head hit the pillow, sleep did not ask.
It took.
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I woke up to sunlight and regret.
My mouth felt dry. My stomach complained with the offended indignation of someone who had been promised food and received trauma instead. My skin itched, a restless reminder of everything I had shoved down in order to keep functioning.
A long, boiling shower fixed half of everything. The rest would require food, time, deliverance, and maybe several years of therapy.
I slipped into a flowing white dress that draped loosely around my growing bump. The fabric rested light and soft over my stomach, a gentle reminder that five months had already passed and two lives were curled inside me, waiting.
Between growing two humans, wrangling the Flame like it was a dramatic firstborn, and apparently helping my husband not accidentally rewrite the world, I felt I had earned a trophy. Or three. And a parade.
Still smiling at the thought, I padded barefoot toward the kitchen.
Noise met me before the doorway did.
The house sounded like a circus that had forgotten its schedule.
Seth sat at the table with several sect leaders, speaking in a low, steady voice. His posture was relaxed but attentive, the kind of calm that made everyone around him lean in. They listened with the wary respect of people who had watched the moon bow to a man and were not sure what that meant the next time they wanted to disagree with him.
Jamey held court near the fridge, hands flying as he reenacted the chaos.
"So there I was," he proclaimed, "clinging for dear life while all of you lost your minds. Alec was yelling at the sky like it owed him money, Samuel looked ready to repent for his entire bloodline, Elizabeth threatened the atmosphere, and Max floated past looking personally offended by gravity."
"Sounds about right," Samuel muttered.
Adrian stood nearby with Israel propped on one shoulder. The baby's hand was fisted in the fabric of his shirt, drooling contentedly on him. Elizabeth watched the two of them with a softness that made me tuck that observation away for later.
Marcus leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes absorbing everything.
The Flame noticed me first.
Golden warmth flared along my spine, racing down my arms and curling along my collarbones in a restless shimmer. It pulsed under my skin like a child spotting a parent in a crowded room and insisting the world move faster.
"Okay," I murmured under my breath. "Yes. Hello. I missed you, too."
The glow brightened in response, inscriptions flickering faintly just beneath the surface of my skin before smoothing out again.
Marcus saw it. His eyes glued to me.
He straightened and started toward me, hands in his pockets. His expression was not afraid. It was a mix of anticipation and relief.
Before he reached me, Seth's head snapped in our direction.
His gaze dropped to the Flame playing along my skin.
His expression shifted. The conversation died mid-sentence. Even Israel stopped babbling.
The kitchen went still.
Marcus halted a few steps from me and turned his head slowly toward Seth first, as if acknowledging the silent boundary that had been drawn.
Only then did he speak.
"Max," he said quietly. "I come in peace and do not wish to disturb anyone else's peace."
He turned back to me, the shift subtle, his gaze sharpening with a glint that could have been humor or warning.
"Or your next meal."
I blinked once, assessing him, the tension in the room still stretched too tight to breathe normally.
"Peace is appreciated. Food would make it forgiveness."
My tone was lighter than the situation warranted, but if I hadn't leaned on sarcasm, I was fairly certain I would have started screaming or setting things on fire.
"So tell me, Marcus. Is this an emergency, or are you here to retract forgiveness before I commit more crimes?"
A few leaders exchanged glances, unsure if they were allowed to laugh. Jamey snorted anyway.
He looked at me with a playful half smile, the kind that said he knew that response was coming.
"I heard what you and Seth told the others earlier," he said. "About the stones. About the gold and silver auras."
The room's attention tightened again.
My shoulders straightened. "What about them?"
Marcus took a slow breath before speaking, as if deciding how much truth the moment deserved.
"I come from very far from here," he said, voice quieter now. "A place that does not appear on holy maps. Most believe it is only a rumor or forgotten scripture."
His gaze flicked briefly to the shattered stones before returning to me.
"In my home, those stones form a path. Ten meters deep, seven meters wide. A road built long before any written language existed."His eyes darkened with memory. "It leads to a shrine few are permitted to see."
No one spoke.
"The elders say the stones hum because they rest over something sacred. Some believe they cover the tombs of fallen angels. Others say they anchor something that should never wake."
He paused.
"But the gold and silver aura…" His voice shifted, the calm cracking with uncertainty. "…that is new. In all my years, they have never responded like this."
His attention returned fully to me, clear, deliberate.
"I have already informed the elder of what I witnessed here. He has agreed to meet with you."
His meaning sharpened.
You. Not anyone else.
Marcus took one step closer. Too close.
The warmth in the room vanished like someone had opened winter itself.A white cloud fogged from Jamey's mouth as he exhaled.
"Okay," he hissed through chattering teeth, rubbing his arms. "New rule. No murder aura before breakfast."
My skin prickled. Goosebumps rose along my arms. The wooden floor beneath us was chilled enough to bite through my socks.
A drip of water slid off the table's edge.
Halfway down, it froze solid.
It stopped in midair, sharpened, and hung there, a curved blade made of ice and intent.
The steam rising from Adrian's cup twisted upward, coiling tighter and tighter until it hardened into spiraled ice. It dropped onto the table beside the first weapon with a cold metallic clunk.
Marcus didn't flinch.
Seth hadn't moved.
Their standoff held the room hostage.
I turned my head slowly toward Seth.
"Really," I said, voice flat, "we are making violent icicles now."
He didn't respond.
Marcus's posture remained relaxed, shoulders loose, yet his presence shifted. The beads woven into his braids began to click against one another. Not randomly. Not chaotically. As if stirred by a wind that did not belong to this room.
Color shimmered across them, one hue after another. Soft green. Burnished copper. Deep violet. The air around him thickened with the feeling of unseen beings paying attention.
I stepped forward, placing my hand on Marcus's chest to stop his advance, and positioned myself directly between the two men. The Flame inside me flared in response, impatient and protective.
"If the two of you keep posturing," I said, "I will start throwing furniture."
Adrian appeared beside me without a sound, one hand hovering near Marcus, the other ready to stop Seth if this escalated one breath too far.
The room reacted before either man did.
The blades softened. The air warmed. The beads dimmed.
Power did not leave.
It simply settled.
Jamey exhaled in relief and sagged against Samuel.
"Thank God," he whispered dramatically. "I was not emotionally ready for supernatural sword-fighting after yesterday's events."
"Or the fact that we are still recovering," Samuel muttered back.
I released a slow breath and looked between the two men, hands on my hips.
"I need food. I need peace. And if either of you gives me a reason to choose violence, I promise you my next tantrum will make this look polite."
Silence.
Seth blinked once.
Marcus inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Adrian whispered to himself, "We live another day."
Once the chaos settled and the testosterone thawed, I finally made it to the kitchen and sat down with food like it was sacred law.
Toast, a bagel, juice, and whatever else counted as restitution after almost needing to referee a supernatural duel. The first bite hit my bloodstream, and my soul exhaled. For a precious moment, life made sense again.
Elbow resting on the table, I lifted my gaze toward the room. Every eye tracked me like I might vaporize someone for breathing wrong, and said, "Good. I am finally where I intended to be before someone decided to test territorial boundaries. I have food. I am calm. No one is frozen or bleeding. So now…" I pointed toward Marcus without breaking eye contact, "…we can talk about the stones."
Seth cleared his throat, sounding strangely civilized for someone who had tried to ice the room earlier. "You mentioned a shrine and the stones. What did you mean."
Marcus nodded once. "To fully explain it, you will need to see my hometown."
I studied him. "The stones are humming. You are one of us. Have you felt any darkness there."
"No," he said. "If the auras you inhaled belonged to beings like the ones in the old stories, then those stones are not weapons or seals. They are containers. Or at least, they were designed to be. And if I am right…" He drew in a slow breath. "My hometown may be the only place left with the missing pieces of what was done to them."
Jamey raised a hand like he was in school. "So what you are saying is your childhood home is a library of people-shaped trauma."
Marcus blinked. "More like a graveyard that never finished its job."
Jamey lowered his hand. "Okay. So worse."
The Flame stirred under my skin, warm and listening. Waiting.
"What do you need from us," I asked.
Marcus did not answer immediately. His gaze moved to Seth, then to the leaders seated near him, then back to me.
"I want you to come with me," he said. "Not all of you. Not yet. Just you, Seth, and whoever you trust to walk into that history without flinching."
Seth rose slowly. The room quieted.
"Why now," he asked. "You have known these stories your whole life. Why ask us today."
Marcus met his eyes with no hesitation and no apology.
"You did," he said. "Last night, when you named the gold and silver for what they were. When the sky answered you. The elders said the path would only open when the right kind of power returned to the world."
His gaze flicked to the golden script still faintly moving at my throat.
"And when the right witness walked beside it."
My stomach tightened.
I hated prophecies.Especially the kind that waited until I was exhausted, overfed with adrenaline, and five months pregnant to become relevant.
I looked at Seth.
He did not speak.He did not need to.
We were going.
I turned back to Marcus. "When."
"As soon as you are ready," he said. "Before whoever altered those stones realizes you now know how to undo them."
The stones began to tremble, not softly, but with a pulsing urgency. As if they knew we were about to move and were begging not to be left behind.
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If you made it to the end of this chapter, you deserve applause, snacks, or emotional support tea.
Writing scenes like this is thrilling and terrifying. Some days this story pours out of me and other days I second-guess every line. But knowing you are here, reading, even quietly, keeps me going.
So whether you are a silent reader, a theorist, or someone who only comments when the chaos becomes too much to hold internally, thank you. Truly.
And just for fun:
Rate Seth's entranceTerrifyingor…Terrifyingly attractive?
See you in the next chapter.