Chapter 60
*Jiselle*
The moment the heavy doors of the council chamber closed behind me, I felt like I could finally breathe again but the sir didn’t taste like relief. It was sharp. Bitter Laced with the weight of things unspoken and a future rapidly unraveling beneath my feet.
We didn’t walk back to the infirmary. Not at first. Nate kept my hand in his as we descended the stone steps toward the academy’s lower courtyard, where students moved about like nothing had changed–like the council hadn’t just stared into my soul and considered how best to dissect it. My fingers twitched with the urge to scream, to shake someone and ask how they could go about their day while mine had just been split in two
I could actually die. I could actually die. I could actually… die!
I didn’t survive months of this hell hole only to be killed over something I couldn’t control.
Bastain didn’t say much. He waited until we reached the archway of the northern corridor, then turned to me with a low voice and sharp eyes, like a man who knew how little time we had left.
“Lay low,” he said simply. “No questions. No wandering. Don’t so much as twitch toward a rule until after Solstice.”
I nodded once, trying not to let my mind spiral. But I saw the flicker of something in his eyes–worry. Not the kind that came with political maneuvering or academy drama. The kind that came when you knew something–and knew it could destroy
someone.
“I mean it, Jiselle,” he said again, more firmly. “Let Carrow and I figure out how to keep you alive,”
The words hit me harder than I expected. Not safe. Not protected. Alive.
And then he was gone, his long coat trailing behind him like a ghost’s breath in the wind.
Nate gave me a long look–one I couldn’t quite read. Equal parts promise and apology.
“I need to meet with him,” he said softly. “Five minutes.”
I didn’t argue. Didn’t beg him to stay. I just nodded.
And then I was alone.
I decided to go back to the dorms, since I was still cleared for classes until next week.
The silence was jarring. The common area was empty, too quiet. Even the usual hum of student life beyond the windows felt distant.
Eva and Emari were at class, so I had the room to myself for now.
My body ached with exhaustion, but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning. I sat on my bed, the soft quilted comforter wrinkling beneath me, and stared at the window. The light was fading, casting long shadows across the wall. In a few weeks, the Solstice would arrive–and with it, a reckoning.
I could feel it now.
Whatever was inside me–whatever power was blooming beneath my skin–it was close. Breathing. Stretching. Hungry. What I had started to manifest was only a surface of it, and that was… scary.
I rubbed my arms, trying to banish the chill creeping through me. Bastain had said it himself, days ago: If I was what he suspected, there would be wolves who would want me dead.
And now the council had said it too–only less subtle. The Moon will decide what remains of you.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
That was when I remembered it.
The book.
It came back in a flash–the library, the dust, the half–ripped pages. I hadn’t thought about it in days, too caught up in survival and sickness and Max and Nate and
But now…
thesty
My pulse quickened as I scrambled toward the drawer beside my desk. I remembered shoving it there, half–forgotten beneath a pile of old worksheets and notes.
There it was.
Successfully unlocked!
Thin, Old. Leather–bound with edges cracked and curling. The title had long since faded, but inside, written in ancient script and smudged ink, were the words that made my breath catch.
The Forgotten Five – Legends of the nie.
Chapter 60
I hadn’t thought much of it then. The pages were mostly torn. The structure loose. But now…
1
Now I knew better than to dismiss something half–buried in time.
I opened it slowly.
The scent of age and old dust hit me like a memory–sharp and earthy. Most of the first few pages were missing. Ripped clean from the spine. But as I flipped, more emerged. Fragmented drawings. Half–written notes. Symbols I didn’t
understand.
But I could feel it. That same prickling at the base of my neck I’d felt in the council chamber. Like something was watching. Like something was remembering.
The section that remained was crude, but readable.
Five wolves. Five types.
The drawings were shaky, etched with what looked like a dull blade onto parchment. I studied them slowly, my breath catching at each one.
A wolf wreathed in flame–its eyes burning white, fur like sparks, fire in its jaws.
A wolf cloaked in darkness–its body made of shadow, surrounded by swirling tendrils of smoke.
A silver–furred wolf with wings–drawn mid–leap, wind curling behind it in twisting drafts.
One with black eyes and a crown of stars–its mouth open in a howl, and power radiating from its paws.
And one… one that chilled me to my core.
A white wolf.
Pure.
Surrounded not by power, but by void. Its eyes were closed, and yet everything seemed to be bending around it. Warping. Submitting.
The caption beneath it was mostly torn.
But one word remained, scratched deep into the paper in messy, frantic handwriting.
Ethereal.
I recoiled, heart thundering.
My mind rushed back to Bastain’s quiet, calculated lie in the council chamber.
We believe she may be like Nathaniel and Maximus.
But I knew better.
I wasn’t like them.
Their power felt like something built on rage and control. Like fire barely kept in a cage. Mine–whatever was inside me–felt older. Not angry. Not even alive, exactly. Just… waiting.
I kept reading.
There were references to cycles–generations passing between manifestations. The number one thousand came up repeatedly, circled, underlined in faded ink.
And then… something else.
A cryptic saying that made no sense.
“When the veil thins and the moon weeps, the one born of light shall awaken. Five will rise. One will fall. And what once was locked shall bleed again.”
A chill ran down my spine.
I stared at it for what felt like hours, trying to decipher the fragments between the tears. My lips moved silently as I read it
over and over.
My fingers trembled as I flipped the page.
This one had almost nothing left. Just a corner. Just the edge of an illustration.
But someone had scrawled a name in the margins. Old ink, faded brown, barely legible.
But I saw it.
Jisele.
My name.
Chapter 60
I dropped the book, stumbling back a step.
The air around me felt wrong. Too hot. Too still. Like something had just… clicked. Or been unleashed.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to steady the storm in my chest.
This was why Bastain lied.
This was why the council was afraid.
And this was why I could never let anyone know just how much was already shifting beneath my skin.
Because this wasn’t about Max anymore.
Or the mark.
Or even Nate.
This was about something much bigger.
Something ancient.
And somehow…
Somehow it was about me.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I pushed through the door, and ran.
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