Chapter 153: Burn the Illusion

The clearing was too still.

Not in the peaceful way forests sometimes settled after a storm, but in the aching silence that came after something had been torn apart and only the ruins remained.

Serena sat on a jagged stone, her hands resting in her lap, fingers twitching with leftover sparks of magic. The mark Caine had left—the glow—was fading now, but it hadn’t vanished entirely. A part of her feared it never would.

Elias crouched beside her, watching her without speaking. He didn’t ask what she saw in the illusion. He didn’t demand an explanation. That was the dangerous thing about Elias—he didn’t need words to see through her. And that, sometimes, was harder to bear than anger or suspicion.

Kael and Theron were reinforcing the wards again, this time with salt lines and blood sigils. Mira leaned against a tree, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. The spell had taken something from all of them.

“It wasn’t just a trick,” Serena said finally, her voice hoarse.

“I know,” Elias murmured.

“I touched him. He spoke to me. That wasn’t just memory or magic.”

“No,” he agreed. “It was a trap designed with a piece of truth. That’s what makes it work.”

She looked up, eyes burning. “Then we know Caine’s alive. Somewhere.”

“Or his magic is,” Elias said carefully. “And that’s not the same thing.”

Serena exhaled shakily, pressing her palms into her knees. “He told me Darian isn’t the only one pulling strings. Said someone older was watching us.”

Theron stepped into the circle at that, brushing leaves from his cloak.

“He’s right,” the shadow-walker said. “That ward wasn’t made by Darian. It was woven using necrosight—something far older than what Darian usually wields.”

Lyra joined them, voice clipped. “You think the Gate’s opening wider?”

“No,” Theron said. “I think someone else is helping it from the inside.”

That silenced them.

Kael frowned. “We already have a war with the Gateborn. Now you’re saying there’s another threat?”

Theron nodded grimly. “Someone inside the Gate world. A force that predates Darian. I’ve felt whispers of it for weeks now, but that trap confirmed it—it didn’t want to kill us. It wanted to separate us, divide our bond. Make Serena question what’s real.”

Serena’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because if it can isolate you,” Theron said, “it can break you.”

Mira stepped forward. “What’s the plan then? We can’t keep reacting. We need to start anticipating.”

Kael nodded. “Agreed. We rest here for the night, set a double ward ring, and then head to the northern ridge at first light. If Caine’s trail is real, it’ll lead us to the Fortress Valley. That’s the only place strong enough to hold him—and hide him.”

Lyra cursed softly. “That place is a graveyard.”

“And that’s exactly why Darian would choose it,” Kael said. “No one goes there willingly.”

Serena stood, finally, her strength returning with the clarity of purpose.

“We’re going,” she said. “Even if the road is cursed. Even if it’s another trap. Because if there’s any chance Caine is still himself—then he needs us.”

Elias looked like he wanted to argue. But instead, he stepped beside her, the quiet loyalty in his eyes anchoring her again.

“Then we move at first light.”

That night, Serena didn’t sleep.

She sat near the outer edge of the warded camp, watching the trees sway under a sky that pulsed red and silver. Her thoughts refused to settle. The weight of power inside her felt different now—heavier, as if the Gate itself was beginning to lean closer, trying to make room for her in its dark design.

She whispered her mother’s name once.

Just to remember where she came from.

Footsteps approached behind her, soft and careful.

“You should rest,” Kael said quietly.

She smiled faintly. “So should you.”

He sat beside her. They hadn’t spoken much since the last fight—not deeply. Not the way they used to, back when things were simpler. Before everything began to unravel.

“You think Caine will remember you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Serena admitted. “I want to believe he will. But the look in his eyes…”

Kael nodded. “It’s what war does to people. And the Gate? It makes it worse.”

She turned to him. “Have you ever thought of walking away?”

His jaw tightened. “Every night. But then I think about what happens if I do. If I’m not there to stand beside the ones who still fight.”

There was a pause.

Then, softly, Kael added, “You carry too much alone, Serena. Let us take some of it.”

Her chest ached. But she didn’t answer. She just leaned her shoulder into his for a moment, letting the silence speak for her.

Dawn broke harsh and cold.

Mist hung low over the trees as they packed quickly, their movements practiced and quiet. No one laughed. No one joked. The air was too heavy for it now.

Before they left, Serena stepped toward the shattered clearing where the illusion trap had been.

She raised a hand and summoned her fire—not the twisted kind the Gate tried to awaken in her, but the clean, burning flame that was hers alone. It flared bright gold and seared across the stone and roots, consuming what remained of the ward circle.

Let them try again, she thought.

Let them see she would not be so easily shaken.

When she turned back, the others were ready.

They walked north again—toward the Fortress Valley, where answers waited.

And far behind them, deep within the heart of the Gate’s shadow, Darian stood before a pool of water glowing with memory.

He smiled as he watched her burn the trap.

“She’s learning,” he said softly.

A figure stepped beside him—tall, cloaked in ancient robes, eyes as pale as bone.

“Not fast enough,” the stranger replied.

Darian’s smile didn’t fade.

“But just in time to play her part.”