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)
The phone rang at noon. Delphine.
“I’m at the Archive,” she said. “Lila’s asking why I’m so distracted. I told her I’m worried about a friend. Which is true, technically.”
“Are you?” Bastien asked. “Worried?”
“Terrified,” she admitted. “Not of the magic. I’ve accepted that part is real. But of what Gideon’s going to show me. What I’m going to see when he broadcasts his evidence.”
Bastien understood. The worst thing about manipulation was that it worked by finding the doubt already present and amplifying it. Gideon would show their interactions edited for maximum suspicion. Would highlight every moment where Bastien had made a choice that served both of them. Would frame protection as control and patience as calculation.
“I can’t tell you what to think when you see it,” he said carefully. “That would defeat the whole purpose. But I can tell you this. Charlotte built the counter-broadcast to work with truth. Not my truth or Gideon’s truth, but actual truth. What you know to be real from your own experience.”
“And if I don’t know what’s real anymore?”
“Then you’ll figure it out while speaking into the mirror. That’s the point of the tool. It forces clarity. Demands honesty even from yourself. You’ll know what is real in your heart.”
She was quiet for a long moment. Then: “I’ll meet you at five. That gives us time to get to the convergence point before Gideon starts broadcasting at six-thirty.”
“Delphine—”
“I know,” she said. “I could walk away. You’ve given me that option repeatedly. But here’s the thing. I don’t want to walk away from something just because it’s hard. I want to understand what’s real and what isn’t. And then I want to choose based on that understanding. That’s honest choice, right? Not avoidance disguised as autonomy.”
She was right, of course. True freedom included the freedom to choose difficulty. To face uncomfortable truths and decide whether they changed anything.
“Five o’clock,” he confirmed. “Bring water and something to eat. I don’t know how long we’ll be down there.”
The afternoon stretched long. Bastien reviewed the architectural drawings, memorizing the activation sequences. The counter-broadcast required precise timing. Delphine would speak into the mirror at the moment Gideon’s sermon reached its peak. Bastien would anchor the frequency through his celestial resonance, channeling it through the network’s original infrastructure. And the truth-reflecting property of the broken circle mirror would force both broadcasts to coexist—Gideon’s manipulation and Delphine’s freely spoken response occupying the same space, letting people choose which reality felt more true.
At four-thirty, Maman called.
“You preparing for something big,” she said without preamble. “Can feel it in the air. Every mirror in the Quarter humming like a tuning fork.”
“Gideon’s planning a broadcast,” Bastien confirmed. “Six-thirty tonight. He’ll use the network to show his evidence to the entire city.”
“And you?”
“Counter-broadcast. Using Charlotte’s tools.”
Maman made a considering sound. “Your girl going to be with you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You need her frequency for this to work proper. But Bastien—she might see everything. All your choices, all your fears, all the ways you shaped things without telling her. You ready for that?”
“No,” he admitted. “But it’s necessary.”
“Truth usually is.” Maman’s voice softened. “I’ll ward my shop, keep the mirrors covered. Whatever happens tonight, some of us should stay outside the broadcast range. In case you need backup.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Just try not to break the Quarter while you’re saving it.”
She hung up. Bastien stood in his quiet apartment, watching late afternoon light slant through the windows. The city felt tense. Waiting. Every reflective surface charged with potential energy, ready to carry whatever message Gideon or Bastien or Delphine decided to broadcast.
Five o’clock arrived. Delphine knocked precisely on time.
She’d dressed practically again—jeans, boots, jacket. But her face showed the strain. Not fear exactly. More like the look of someone preparing for surgery. Necessary pain, chosen deliberately, but still dreading the moment the anesthetic wore off.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No. But let’s do it anyway.”
They gathered the supplies—Charlotte’s journal, the architectural drawings, the broken circle mirror wrapped in silk. Protective wards that Bastien had spent the afternoon preparing. Flashlights, water, the small practical details that mattered when you were about to spend hours in an underground chamber confronting magical attacks.
The walk to the Warehouse District took twenty minutes. Neither of them spoke much. What was there to say? They both knew what was coming. Both understood that after tonight, everything would be different. Either Delphine would choose to honor the bond with full knowledge of what it meant, or she’d walk away. Both were valid choices. Both would hurt in different ways.
The convergence point waited. The iron panel stood open—not invitation but challenge. The access shaft descended into darkness, water visible at the bottom, reflecting nothing.
“Last chance,” Bastien said quietly. “You can walk away. No judgment. No consequences. Just . . . a different choice.”
Delphine looked at him directly. “That’s why I’m not walking away. Because you keep offering me the exit. Because you mean it every time. That tells me something about who you are.”