The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond
Chapter 129: The Mirror Bargain

Chapter 129: The Mirror Bargain

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The old apothecary hadn’t been used in years , not properly. After Celeste’s wounds, the place fell into dust and shadows, the smell of dried herbs and ashes clinging to the warped beams like ghosts refusing to be exorcised. Magnolia stood in the doorway now, cloak drawn tight around her shoulders, breath misting in the draft that slithered across the stone floor.

Inside, the shelves sagged under glass jars with labels so faded they may as well have been written in another tongue. Bundles of sage and yarrow crumbled where they hung, furred over with dust. The hearth at the far wall held a single unlit brazier, its iron belly blackened by old flame and older secrets.

Magnolia stepped inside, her boots whispering across the rushes. Her fingers traced the nearest shelf, leaving lines through the dust. At the far end, half-buried under a collapsed basket of dried wolfsbane, lay Celeste’s old book , bound in dark green leather, its edges stained with something darker.

She lifted it carefully, brushing the cover clean with her thumb. No more ghosts, she told herself, but the lie stuck in her throat. She was drowning in them.

She opened to the page marked with a brittle strand of black hair , Celeste’s hair, she realized. Her heart clenched. There, in Celeste’s thin, looping script:

The Mirror Bargain , A ritual of Sight and Veil. Risk: fracture of the tether. A soul may be lost in the mind’s shadow.

Below it, a single warning underlined twice: Never enter the mind of one who has turned.

Magnolia’s jaw tensed. She let the book drop onto the table with a soft thud. She could feel Beckett’s doubt echoing in her bones. Don’t trust him. Don’t follow him into the dark.

But Camille was out there. Somewhere between Sterling’s clenched teeth and Gabriel’s poisoned hands. And if she waited for the Elder to deliver her sister in pieces, then what use was the crown at her throat?

She pulled her knife from her belt , not Beckett’s hunting blade but the thin ritual dagger Celeste had once pressed into her palm when she was barely twenty. The edge still held its bite.

Magnolia rolled up her sleeve. Her skin gleamed pale in the candlelight, marked only by the faint scar above her wrist , a memory of the first time she’d sworn herself to the Callahan line. This would cut deeper.

She pressed the blade to the soft flesh just below the scar. Inhale. The steel kissed her skin. Exhale. The blood welled up, warm and bright. The wolf inside her bristled, torn between the ancient fear of betrayal and the knowledge that sometimes you had to bleed to see.

She let the blood drip onto the brazier’s cold coals. The iron hissed as the drops sizzled and smoked, carrying her scent into the shadows. She bent low, pressing her mouth to the blood-slicked edge.

"Sterling Hale," she whispered. The old words tasted bitter on her tongue. "Open your gates. Show me the girl. Show me the chain."

When the vision pulled her under, it was not gentle.

It dragged her through darkness that smelled of pine rot and old fur. She staggered through memories that weren’t hers , snow falling across Gabriel’s pit, Sterling screaming until his voice cracked. The world flickered, a strobe of pain and hunger and the soft croon of the Ash Child whispering in a voice that sounded too much like Camille’s laughter.

Then the dark parted. Magnolia found herself standing on a forest floor soaked in ash, the trees rising like black spires against a blood-red sky. She could feel her own heartbeat echoing in the space between the trees, but it was weaker here , distant, like someone pounding on a door far, far away.

"Camille?" she called.

No answer. Only the wind, carrying a sound like rustling silk. She moved forward, boots sinking into the soft, sooty soil. Every step felt wrong, as if the forest wanted to swallow her. The trees leaned closer, whispering secrets she couldn’t catch.

A shape flickered ahead. Magnolia’s breath caught.

Camille knelt in the clearing , or what was left of her. Her hair tangled around her shoulders, streaked with black soot that drifted away like moth wings. Her eyes glowed dimly under the curtain of hair, shifting from their familiar pale gray to something slick and onyx.

"Camille." Magnolia reached out, but the trees seemed to pull the distance longer. "It’s me. Look at me."

Camille’s head tilted slowly. Her lips moved, but the words tangled in her throat, slipping out in two voices , one hers, soft and lilting, and another that grated like gravel beneath water.

"Too late," Camille breathed. "He wears me like a mask."

Magnolia’s stomach lurched. "No. No, I’m here. I’ll pull you out."

Camille’s laughter was a dry, rattling sound. "You can’t. He wants you. He wants your light."

"Sterling, "

Camille’s head snapped up. For a heartbeat, her eyes cleared. "Sterling is gone."

The words fell like a hammer.

Magnolia stumbled back. "No. He came back. He, "

"Gone," Camille rasped. The Ash Child’s voice layered over hers, a serpentine hiss that made the air curdle. "What crawls in his skin is no wolf."

Magnolia’s hands fisted. Her nails dug crescent moons into her palms. "Then fight it. Fight him. Tell me where you are, "

But Camille’s eyes glazed again, swirling black. The Ash Child’s voice slid through her lips, sweet as poison. "Give us your wolf. Give us your blood. Or watch her drown in the cinder."

Magnolia’s breath heaved. She dropped to her knees in the ash. The soot clung to her cloak, crawled into her hair. She felt herself slipping , the forest shifting, twisting, growing teeth.

"Camille," she whispered. "Please. Please, I’m here."

But the shape that wore her sister’s face only smiled , a thin, broken smile. "Run, Mags. Run. He’s coming."

The forest shuddered. In the distance, Sterling’s silhouette rose between the blackened trunks. He moved wrong , joints bending too smooth, eyes wide and empty. His mouth opened, and Camille’s voice poured out, a scream that curdled into laughter.

Magnolia’s wolf reared inside her, snapping its teeth, howling for an exit.

She slammed her palms into the ash. Wake up.

The vision cracked. The forest tore like paper. Shadows bled away into the cold stone walls of the apothecary. Magnolia fell back, breathless, hand pressed tight over the cut on her arm. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought it might burst.

A shape moved in the doorway. Beckett. His eyes locked on hers, wide and furious.

"What did you do?" His voice cracked like a whip.

Magnolia couldn’t speak. Ash still clung to her tongue. Her hand trembled over Celeste’s book.

"Answer me!" Beckett stormed forward, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her hard enough to rattle her teeth. "What did you see?"

Magnolia forced the words past her frozen lips. "She’s still in there."

"Where?"

She met his eyes , and for the first time in days, her mask slipped. Tears burned hot down her ash-smudged cheeks.

"Everywhere," she whispered. "She’s trapped. And Sterling... Sterling’s gone, Beck."

Beckett’s face went still. The wolf behind his eyes snarled once , silent but unmistakable.

"Then we end him."

Magnolia swallowed hard. The cut on her arm throbbed with every heartbeat. "Not yet."

Beckett’s jaw clenched. "Why?"

"Because he’ll lead me to her," she breathed. "Or he’ll drag me down with him."

He grabbed her chin, forcing her eyes to his. "Then I drag you back."

She didn’t flinch this time. Didn’t pretend to be steel.

"Promise me," she rasped.

Beckett’s hands were warm against her frozen skin. "Always."

Somewhere down the hallway, a door slammed. A laugh echoed , Sterling’s voice, rolling down the stone like a promise that the hunt had already begun.