Chapter 137 : What Cannot Be Undone
Isla’s eyes snapped open. But the world did not return gently. She arched off the ground, air flooding her lungs in a ragged gasp. Dirt clung to her palms, her spine screamed in protest, and for a heartbeat too long, she didn’t know where she was nor who she was. Her head spun and she was finding her bearings…
Then…
“Isla.”
Damian’s voice came to her but not as a memory nor a whisper. It was absolutely real.
She turned her head and saw him beside her, breathless, braced on his knees. His face was pale, streaked with sweat and blood, but his eyes burned. Not just with relief but with fear because the vision had not faded. It was as if it was still part of who she was.
Its residue pulsed in her chest, in the gold still threading beneath her skin. The child within her curled tight, as if sensing the weight of what had just been unleashed.
Around them, the Gate still shimmered, cracked and bleeding light. The symbols Damian had burned onto the ancient stones had dulled, flickering like dying stars and then she remembered the thrones.
It all came back to her in a rush: her scream, the surge and the collapse. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the tearing in her muscles. They had fallen. The thrones, shattered beneath her fury. That power, hers, not borrowed, not stolen, had razed centuries in seconds. But…
“They’re not dead,” Isla said hoarsely. “I felt it. They retreated. They’re regrouping.”
Damian stood too, jaw clenched. “You broke their illusion. Their hold. But they didn’t need the thrones to rule. They used them to contain what they feared.”
“Me.”
He nodded once. “And now they’ll come for you before the realms align.”
A silence fell.
Not from peace. But from something more terrifying.
Expectation.
As if the land itself waited to see what she would do next.
Behind them, the veil between realms still swirled, less a gateway now, more a wound. And in the distance, Isla could hear voices. Shouts. Brienne’s name. Leo’s. Even Alaine’s. They had been pulled back when the Gate first cracked, when the vision consumed them. But now…
“We need to go to them,” Isla whispered. “They need to know what’s coming.”
But Damian didn’t move.
His gaze had shifted. Not toward the horizon. Not toward the others.
But toward her.
“I saw her,” he said softly. “The first mother of your line, your mother,. Lucira.”
The name ached in her ears. She hadn’t said it aloud until now.
“She gave herself to seal the realms. She gave you.”
Isla’s breath hitched.
“And you,” she replied, looking at him now, her voice trembling but sure, “were part of that sacrifice too. Your line wasn’t chosen by accident. It wasn’t random fate that made you Alpha. You were meant to remember.”
Damian’s brows furrowed. “But I didn’t.”
“No.” She stepped closer, hand brushing his chest. “Because you loved me before the bond awakened. Before the blood recognized itself. That’s why the Elders fear us, because even without memory, even without power, you chose me… again and again.”
He closed his eyes, jaw tight with emotion.
“And now,” she added, voice low, “they can’t stop what’s been set in motion. They can delay it. Hurt us. Hunt us. But they cannot undo it.”
A faint cry echoed across the ruined terrain.
“Isla!”
It was Brienne, desperate and furious, the way only Brienne could be. Leo’s voice followed, then a new one, Vincent’s. Isla’s heart clenched. She really needed to get used to this…
They had survived the breach. Marcus came trailing behind them. Rohen and Lucia were looking behind them. They could clearly sense the same as we did. Lucia was a powerful Oracle.
“They’re coming. All those who despise us.,” Damian said, his tone shifting now to urgency. “As well as, the Sombrosi, Maedor… the shadows left behind by the Elders.”
Isla looked at him, the shadows under his eyes, the battle-worn armor, the pulse ticking in his throat.
“Then we have to gather what’s left,” she said. “Call every rogue who still breathes. Every House not loyal to the thrones. Every seer, every soldier and every soul that remembers the world before lies.”
“And what will you call yourself?” Damian asked, voice quiet.
She turned toward the rising smoke, the ruins still glowing from her fury.
“I am the Gatekeeper’s blood. The bond, reborn. The key and the curse.” Her hand pressed gently to her stomach, where power and heartbeat danced together. “I am Isla and I’m going to stand my ground, confront those who dare betray us and bring balance amongst us all.”
Behind her, the wind howled like a memory and ahead, war, once again, stirred on the horizon because of those who seek power.