Chapter 110 CHAPTER 110
At first, no one understood what Lisa was saying.
Her words came out broken, tangled with sobs, her breath uneven as she stood trembling at the center of the temple. But even without understanding, they could all see the pain in her eyes - the kind that did not come from fear alone, but from loss freshly reopened.
Liam moved before anyone else could.
He crossed the space between them and pulled her into his arms, holding her firmly against his chest as her knees nearly gave way. She clutched at his clothes, her fingers shaking as she buried her face against him and cried, the sound raw and unrestrained.
“She was there,” Lisa sobbed. “I saw her. She was alive.”
Liam tightened his hold, one hand cradling the back of her head as he rocked her gently, grounding her, anchoring her to the present. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t ask questions. He simply stayed.
“She looked so weak,” Lisa whispered through tears. “So tired. I should have been allowed more time. I should have spoken to her. I could have helped her. Maybe if I touched her - maybe I could have brought her back.”
Her voice broke completely then, and Liam pressed a soft kiss to her hair, murmuring reassurances he wasn’t sure she could hear but refusing to stop saying them anyway. That she was here. That she was safe. That she was not alone.
Slowly, her sobs softened.
Her breathing steadied, little by little, until the trembling in her hands eased and her grip loosened. Liam didn’t let go until she leaned back on her own, exhaustion etched into her face.
Ethan stepped forward then, his voice low, anxious.
“What do you mean,” he asked, “you saw our mother?”
Lisa lifted her gaze to him and began telling them what had happened during the ritual.
Silence filled the temple after Lisa finished speaking.
It was not the calm kind of silence that followed prayer, nor the gentle quiet of understanding. It was heavy, unsettled, weighed down by too many questions and not a single answer. The air itself seemed to hesitate, as though the ancient walls were listening, trying to decide whether what had just been spoken belonged to truth or madness.
Ethan was the first to move.
He began pacing slowly, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor as he crossed the space and turned back again. His hands were clenched behind his back, his shoulders tight, his jaw set so hard it looked painful. He stopped abruptly and turned toward Lisa, his eyes searching her face as if he could find certainty there.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low but urgent. “Are you absolutely sure about what you saw?”
Lisa met his gaze without flinching. “I am.”
Jora stepped forward then, her expression troubled rather than dismissive. “Sometimes when magic pulls a soul too far, the mind fills in what it cannot understand,” she said carefully. “It could have been a vision. A projection. A hallucination born from fear.”
Lisa shook her head slowly. “It wasn’t.”
Before Jora could respond, Nolan spoke.
“It couldn’t have been,” he said firmly.
All eyes turned to him.
“She described the Silver City,” Nolan continued. “Not vaguely. Not symbolically. She described it as it is. Lisa is not fae. She would have no knowledge of that realm. No stories, no teachings, no reference point. That alone tells me her soul was truly there.”
Jora’s brow furrowed. “If that is true…”
“Then it means she crossed realms,” Nolan finished. “More than one.”
A chill moved through the room.
Celestine folded her hands slowly at her waist, her face pale with concentration. “And if she truly crossed into the witch village as well,” she said, “then the barrier placed over it was breached.”
Ethan stopped pacing.
“That barrier was supposed to be impenetrable,” he said sharply. “No wolf. No fae. No human.”
Lisa swallowed. “I didn’t even know where I was. I didn’t see a border. I was just… there.”
Liam, who had been silent until now, straightened slightly.
“That’s what makes this important,” he said.
Everyone turned toward him.
“If her soul moved without being detected,” Liam continued, his voice steady but intense, “then it bypassed every ward, every alarm, every spell meant to keep outsiders away. No sentries. No suspicion. No risk of capture.”
Celestine frowned. “That was not the intention of the ritual.”
“I know,” Liam said. “But intention doesn’t change outcome.”
He took a step forward, his mind already racing ahead. “If this can be understood - if it can be repeated - then it’s safer than any infiltration tactic we’ve ever had. No bloodshed. No war. No exposure.”
Jora shook her head. “You’re speaking as though we know how this happened.”
“We don’t,” Nolan agreed. “And that’s the problem.”
The room fractured into tension.
Liam saw opportunity.
Celestine saw danger.
Jora saw imbalance.
Nolan saw unanswered laws.
“We don’t know what word was spoken,” Jora said. “What frequency of magic overlapped. Whether this worked because of Lisa herself or because of the artifacts involved.”
Celestine nodded. “Or whether it will ever work again.”
Liam exhaled slowly. “But it did work.”
“Yes,” Nolan said. “Once. Accidentally.”
The word hung there, heavy and sobering.
Ethan hadn’t spoken again.
He stood near the edge of the ritual circle now, staring down at the faint markings on the floor as though they held secrets he could force out if he looked long enough. The conversation around him continued, but it seemed distant, muffled, like sound underwater.
His mother.
Alive.
The thought repeated in his mind, louder than anything else being said. Not a vision. Not a memory. A living woman, weakened but breathing, walking the same world he ruled.
“Ethan,” Liam said gently, noticing his stillness.
Ethan looked up slowly, his eyes unfocused.
“She looked like her,” he said quietly. “Didn’t she?”
Lisa’s chest tightened. “She did. Older. Thinner. But… yes.”
“Did she speak to you?” Ethan asked.
Lisa shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “No. I called out to her. I was walking toward her. And then I was pulled away.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
For a moment, the king vanished.
What stood there instead was a boy who had grown up with portraits on cold stone walls. A boy who had learned to rule in absence. A boy who had buried grief so deeply it had hardened into duty.
“She’s alive,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
The room went quiet again.
Celestine spoke softly. “If this ritual revealed anything, it is that forces far greater than us are moving pieces we don’t yet understand.”
“And that Lisa is at the center of it,” Nolan added.
Lisa stiffened slightly. “I don’t want to be a weapon.”
“No one said you were,” Liam replied immediately.
“But you’re a key,” Jora said gently. “Whether you wish to be or not.”
Ethan opened his eyes, resolve slowly fighting its way back through shock and longing. “We don’t act on this yet,” he said. “Not until we understand it.”
Liam hesitated, then nodded. “Agreed.”
“But we don’t ignore it,” Ethan continued. “And we do not tell anyone else. Not the council. Not the guard. Not yet.”
Celestine inclined her head. “Wisely chosen.”
Ethan drew in a slow breath.
“And Celia,” he said looking at Lisa. “She can’t tell Kael.”
Lisa nodded then stiffened suddenly.
“If Kael knows,” Ethan continued, his voice tightening, “then Sebastian might eventually know too. Memories bleed through bonds.”
Liam hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right.”
Lisa turned inward instinctively then, reaching for the familiar presence she had felt her entire life.
“Celia?” she called.
Nothing answered.
A chill crept up her spine.
“Celia!” she tried again, panic rising.
Still nothing.
Lisa’s breath hitched. Her hand flew to her chest as she searched harder, pushing against the silence in her mind. There was no warmth. No echo. No quiet reassurance.
She looked up sharply, fear breaking through her composure.
“I can’t feel her,” she said.
The words landed like a blow – something was wrong.