Chapter 183

Chapter 183
Arius‘ s pov.

Behind us, the ground thrummed; the others were not done with their conversations with the unseen. Dante’s features softened into a grief I would have mocked on any other day. Calipsa stood statue-still, lips moving in counter-spell or prayer. Dorian… Dorian’s eyes had the brittle shine of a man a breath away from shattering stone with his bare hands. Whatever the valley whispered, it had teeth for kings, too.
“Freya,” I said, because I could feel the Mirror turning in its sleep, “we don’t have long. Are you truly ready for this?”
Dorian’s voice cut in, sharp as a blade. “Ready for what? What price, Freya? What are you about to pay?”
She lifted her chin, eyes flashing with defiance. “From me, the valley cannot take more than Indra already has. There is no price I will not pay. So yes—I’m ready. We move.”
Dorian’s eyes narrowed, voice sharp. “Why do I feel like that price is something we’re about to find out?”
Tiberius, still shaken, muttered hoarsely, “Illusions. Look at what it did to Selene—she got her wolf back, but not what she truly wanted. What if Reyna and Hera aren’t the same? What if the cost cuts deeper than you think?”
We followed the pulse only I seemed to sense—an old rhythm, older than covens and courts—down a slope of black glassy shale to a basin ringed in shadow. The air grew colder, heavier. A shallow pool mirrored a slit of sky; in its heart, the water lay still as obsidian.
“Veyra’s Mirror,” Calipsa whispered, joining us with a shiver. “It shows itself when it chooses. Don’t touch until spoken to.”
“Not a problem,” Dante muttered. “Looks like it’d bite.”
“It will,” I said. And then softer, to Freya alone, “You ready?”
She glanced once at Dorian and Tiberius, and the way those men looked at her—gods. The weight of love in a glance. She nodded. “Yes.”
The pool darkened further, black swallowing black until even the sky’s reflection was gone. A voice rolled out of the stone—no language, only meaning—filling the hollow beneath our ribs.
What is lost seeks balance. What you take, you must lay down.
Freya stepped forward. “I laid down Reyna and Hera to buy the world one more day. I come to exchange, not to steal.”
Clever tongue again, the voice purred, amused. You argue for one cut to pay two debts.
Freya’s chin lifted. “I argue for one debt paid in full. One moment, one sacrifice, one return.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the pool like wind through wheat. And what lays upon your palm, child of fire and fang? What you carry and do not know?
I watched her swallow. She didn’t look back at us. “Name it.”
Silence gathered. The water lightened—no, not light, memory. Images surfaced and dissolved: Freya as a girl in a pack's yard; a silver-pelt wolf circling her; a blade forged in dawn; a throne room ringed with ash. And then a final image—Freya standing alone at a crossroads, her shadow split in two and then in three.
Your choice, the Mirror breathed. Your future line. Your blood’s path. You will not know whose child opens your door, nor which bond endures. You will carry love without certainty. You will lead without map. A pause, velvet and cruel. This is what you do not know you hold: the power to decide and be blamed for it.
Freya exhaled, tremor-small but so brave I wanted to laugh at the gods for ever underestimating her. “I accept the blame. I accept the uncertainty. I accept the leading. Give me back my Reyna and Hera”
The Mirror’s voice slid back in, sly as venom: And I did forget to mention—you agreed to give what you hold, though you know it not.
I snarled, “No—that’s two sacrifices, not one.”
But they are bound, deeply bound, the valley purred. What she gives will twist her path into the unknown. Are you ready, Freya? Its laughter rang sharp.
Dorian and Tiberius spoke at once, their voices rough: “Freya, we grieve Reyna and Hera, but this—this isn’t right.”
Freya turned on them, heat flaring. “You don’t know what it is to lose them. To not be whole.”
Pain seared in my chest as I stared at her, stricken. I moved, desperate. “Freya—don’t. You’ll unravel everything.”
But she lifted her chin. “I agree.”
The water went black as a starless night. Then—two small flames winked in the depths, like eyes. The hair on my arms rose.
Dorian’s hand found the hilt at his hip. Tiberius shifted closer to her without seeming to mean to. Selene, who knew better than to breathe wrong at rituals, held herself very still.
The flames brightened, spiraling up through the water like fireflies rising from moss. They kissed the surface, and soundless heat washed over us. Freya closed her eyes, hands open, and something like wind—but heavier, older—poured into her chest.
She gasped.
A low growl rippled through the rocks. Far away, wolves and hunters—or the memory of them—howled in answer.
“Reyna,” she whispered. “Hera.”
For a heartbeat, triumph flared in me—sharp, bright, undeserved. And then the Mirror laughed again, a sound like cracking ice.
Balance, it reminded, silk turning to saw. Payment now.
Freya’s eyes flew to mine. Not pleading. Measuring. A soldier’s look before she does the brave, stupid thing.
I stepped forward on instinct. “Take me,” I said, and surprised myself with how easily it left me. “I am old coin. Tainted, yes. But I pay my debts.”
The pool shivered, tasting me. You offer rot and call it wine.
“Vintage rot,” I said, teeth bared. “A connoisseur’s delight.”
“Don’t,” Dorian snapped, voice razor-clean. “You don’t make that choice for her.”
“Who said it’s for her?” I shot back, but the Mirror was already moving past me, unimpressed. I ignored Freya’s sharp cry, locking my gaze on the shifting pool.
“I know what you really want,” I told the valley.
“Freedom. You’ve been bound here, turning bargains for centuries, but you were never meant to be a jailer.” The waters stirred, and from them rose a woman of impossible beauty, her voice like velvet thunder.
She arched a brow. “Do you understand what you’re offering?”
My chest tightened, but I didn’t falter. “I’ve had centuries to think. You were tricked, cursed into this prison. All this work, all this pain, and for what? You deserve release.”
She studied me, her eyes fathomless. “Speak, then. What is your wish?”
I drew a deep breath. “Give Reyna and Hera back to Freya. Restore them. And in return—I will take your place. I’ll be the one bound.”
“No!” Freya’s voice broke behind me. “Arius, don’t you dare.”
I only glanced back long enough to wink at her. “Not your decision this time, Freya.”
She surged forward, anguish etched across her face. “This isn’t your fight, not your sacrifice—”
I kissed her hard, cutting off her words, pouring into it all the certainty I’d found. Pulling back, I murmured, “Have I ever been without a plan? We’ll see each other again. Fate whispers it.”
Then I turned, offering myself fully to the valley’s power. The Mirror’s laughter wrapped around me as it accepted my pledge.