Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
B.: If you’re reading this, the corruption succeeded. Don’t believe what the mirrors show. Remember what we chose. Every day. Every lifetime. That’s the truth the network was meant to preserve.
The words ended there. No signature. No further elaboration. Just Charlotte trying to protect the truth she’d built into the system before someone twisted it beyond recognition.
“Gideon,” Delphine said. “This is what Gideon’s been doing. Using her confession chambers against her.”
“Against both of us.” Bastien set the page down carefully. “He’s been building this for a long time. Long enough to study Charlotte’s methods, infiltrate her network, and set up a counter-narrative.”
“What counter-narrative?”
Before he could answer, the reading room’s windows flickered. Not the lights—the glass itself. For three seconds, every reflective surface in the room showed the same image:
A mirror. Massive, ornate, positioned in what looked like a study or workshop. And written across its surface in glowing script:
She never loved you. She loved the idea of permanence.
You never loved her. You loved the certainty.
Soul bonds are just fear wearing devotion’s mask.
Freedom is love without obligation.
The message faded. The windows returned to normal, showing only the courtyard beyond and the clouds moving across morning sky.
Delphine had gone very still. “What was that?”
“Gideon’s philosophy.” Bastien moved to the nearest window, examining the glass for residual resonance. “He’s been seeding the network with these statements. Turning Charlotte’s confession chambers into broadcast points for his ideology.”
“That’s not just philosophy. That’s . . .” She struggled for the word. “That’s evangelical. He’s trying to convert people.”
“He’s trying to prove a point.” Bastien could feel the network humming beneath the city now, activated and amplified. “That soul bonds remove autonomy. That what Charlotte and I built was just sophisticated manipulation. That choosing someone across lifetimes isn’t actually choice—it’s programming.”
Delphine absorbed this, her expression moving through several emotions before settling on something that looked like anger. “And he’s using you as his case study.”
“He’s using both of us.” Bastien turned to face her. “You’re the proof he needs. Charlotte’s direct descendant, carrying her resonance, stabilizing the network just by existing. If he can force you to reject me—publicly, through the mirror network—then he proves that soul bonds can be broken. That they’re not sacred or permanent or meaningful. Just another magical construct that falls apart under pressure.”
“He wants me to reject you.” Not a question. Understanding settling into certainty. “In front of the entire city. Through every reflective surface.”
“A citywide sermon,” Bastien confirmed. “Using Charlotte’s network to broadcast the moment you choose to walk away. Proof that even the strongest soul bond can’t survive when the participant actually examines it clearly.”
“But I haven’t—” She stopped. Started again. “I don’t even remember Charlotte. How can I reject a bond I don’t feel?”
“That’s exactly his point.” Bastien moved back to the table, picking up Charlotte’s note about corruption. “He’s been documenting our partnership. Every conversation, every moment of trust, every choice you’ve made to stay involved despite the danger. He’s framing it as evidence that you’ve been manipulated. That proximity to me has influenced your decisions without your conscious awareness.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He met her eyes. “You’ve spent weeks helping me track a supernatural threat you couldn’t see. You’ve trusted me with information that sounds insane. You’ve put yourself in danger for an investigation that logically shouldn’t matter to you. Gideon would say that’s not choice—that’s the soul bond directing your actions beneath conscious awareness.”
Delphine’s jaw set. “And what would you say?”
“I’d say you made informed decisions with the information available. That you chose to get involved because you’re brave and curious and you don’t accept ignorance as protection.” He paused. “But I’m not unbiased. I want to believe your choices are your own because the alternative means I’ve been controlling you without meaning to.”
She was quiet for a long moment. The reading room’s lamp flickered once, the green shade casting shadows that moved wrong across the examination table.
“When?” she asked finally.
“When what?”
“When is Gideon planning this sermon? When does he try to force me to reject you publicly?”
Bastien pulled out his phone, opening the notes he’d been compiling over the past thirty-six hours. “The mirror anomalies have been escalating on a predictable curve. Based on the pattern, he’s building toward a convergence point—maximum network activation, every reflective surface in the Quarter synchronized to broadcast the same message.”
“Which is?”
“That love is the cage we build ourselves. That devotion is just another word for control. That what Charlotte and I thought was sacred was actually pathological.” He showed her the graph he’d been tracking. “The convergence happens in thirty-six hours. Thursday night, when the network reaches critical mass.”
“Thirty-six hours.” Delphine looked at Charlotte’s notes again, at the broken circle that represented choice. “What happens if I don’t reject you? If I just . . . refuse to play his game?”