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)
She descended first this time. Bastien followed, pulling the iron panel closed behind them. The shaft sealed with a sound like finality.
The tunnel system waited. Glass veins pulsing with their combined frequencies—gold and silver intertwined. Water ankle-deep and warmer than before. The network recognizing that they’d returned. That they’d found Charlotte’s tools. That they were preparing to reclaim what Gideon had corrupted.
They reached the altar chamber at six-fifteen. Fifteen minutes until the sermon began.
Bastien set up the wards methodically, creating a protective circle around the altar. Not to block the broadcast—that would defeat the purpose—but to prevent Gideon from doing anything more direct. The doppelgänger attack the previous night had shown that Gideon could manifest through the mirrors. These wards would keep that contained.
Delphine examined the broken circle mirror, holding it carefully in both hands. “When you said it forces honesty even from myself—what did you mean?”
“The mirror reflects truth,” Bastien explained. “Not just what you say but what you actually believe. If you try to speak something you don’t genuinely feel, the mirror won’t amplify it. It only works with authentic response.”
“So I can’t just perform confidence. I have to actually choose.”
“Yes. That’s the point. Charlotte wanted to make sure that any choice made through her network was real. That’s why Gideon’s manipulation is so dangerous—he’s using the same tool but inverting its purpose. Broadcasting doubt instead of truth. Fear instead of clarity.”
Delphine nodded slowly. She placed the mirror on the altar, positioned precisely at the center of the crest. “And you’ll be here the whole time? Anchoring the frequency?”
“I’ll be here. But you’re the one who speaks. The network responds to your voice because you’re the living anchor. I just maintain the resonance.”
Six twenty-eight. Two minutes.
The tunnel mirrors flickered. All of them simultaneously. Light building in the glass, preparing to carry whatever message Gideon had crafted.
Bastien positioned himself behind the altar. Placed his hands on the celestial glyphs. Felt his frequency connect to the network, gold light flowing through Charlotte’s carefully designed channels.
Delphine stood opposite him, her hands resting lightly on the mortal glyphs. Silver light answering gold. The two frequencies meeting in the broken circle mirror between them.
The water around the altar began to rise. Not from external source but from the pressure of magic accumulating. The network becoming a conduit for power that had been building for days.
Six-thirty. The moment hit.
Every mirror in the chamber blazed with light. Gideon’s face appeared in the glass—kind, professorial, the expression of someone who cared deeply about helping people see the truth.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice carrying through every reflective surface in New Orleans, “I offer clarity. The truth about soul bonds and why they’re the most beautiful lies we tell ourselves.”
The sermon had begun.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Six-thirty. The mirrors blazed. Bastien squinted against light so bright it left afterimages when he blinked. Every reflective surface in the chamber—in the city—flooded with Gideon’s face. Not threatening. Not cruel. Kind. The expression of a professor who genuinely believed he was helping students understand a difficult truth.
The broadcast would reach every mirror in New Orleans, but only those with magical awareness would perceive it. Charlotte had built that safeguard into the original design—protection for the magical community, ensuring that mundane eyes would see only ordinary reflections. Regular humans would walk past windows showing Gideon’s sermon and notice nothing unusual. The veil between worlds remained intact.
Bastien’s palms pressed against the celestial glyphs, metal warming under his skin. He felt the surge through the network—power flowing through Charlotte’s channels but wrong, the frequency corrupted. Gideon had spent weeks weaving his sermon lattice into the infrastructure. Purple light threaded through the glass veins in the walls, fighting the gold of Bastien’s resonance.
“Tonight,” Gideon said, his voice clear through every bathroom mirror, every storefront window, every car’s rearview mirror, every phone screen that could catch reflection, “I offer you clarity. Not judgment. Not condemnation. Just the truth about soul bonds and why they are the most beautiful lies we tell ourselves.”
The water around the altar rose. Bastien felt it climb past his ankles, warm as bathwater, carrying electrical charge that made the hair on his arms stand up. Not from rain. Not from the river. From magical pressure that the network was never designed to handle. Charlotte had built this for preservation, not for citywide broadcasts.
“Watch,” Gideon said.
The mirrors shifted. Every reflective surface showed edited footage—real moments from Bastien and Delphine’s interactions but framed. Selected. Arranged to tell a story that wasn’t quite a lie but wasn’t quite truth either.
Bastien appearing at the Archive when Delphine needed translation help. The editing stripped away her greeting, her invitation to sit. Left only him approaching, lingering, the timing made to look calculated instead of coincidental.
Their coffee meetings shown in rapid montage. Conversations about New Orleans history and archival techniques reduced to a sequence that suggested grooming. A predator establishing trust before closing distance.