The price of shadows

Chapter 17 – The Price of Shadows

Ava Carter’s POV

I screamed his name.

The silence that followed was louder than anything I had ever heard.

“Damon!” My voice cracked as I stumbled forward, reaching for the space where he had just been. The floor was still warm. As if he had never left… but had burned away.

Emilia clutched my waist from behind. Her small hands trembled. “Where did he go?” she whispered.

I had no answer.

The mirror’s shards lay scattered, their humming now like distant whispers. I stared at them, searching for meaning, for a clue. My reflection stared back in one—only it wasn’t me.

It was her.

Isobel.

Her ghostly image flickered behind the glass, mouth moving in silent words. Then one shard lit up, glowing with a soft blue hue. I picked it up, ignoring the sting as it sliced my palm.

“The blood of the heir is not enough,” a voice said. Not out loud—inside my head.

“The line is broken, but the Watcher remains. The gate was opened too wide.”

I stumbled back, the shard falling from my hand. Blood smeared across my fingers and the floor. Emilia was crying now, whispering Damon’s name over and over.

“We’re not safe here,” I said, forcing my voice to be steady. “We need to get out.”

But the house didn’t want us to leave.

Doors slammed when I approached. Windows fogged from the inside. The entire Thornhart estate was alive—more than ever before. It breathed with the Watcher's presence, angry and hungry.

Because Damon tried to cheat it. And now, it wanted retribution.

I dragged Emilia to the West Wing, the only part of the mansion that hadn’t felt touched by the mirror’s curse. We locked ourselves in a guest room, pushing a heavy dresser against the door.

She sat on the bed, knees to her chest, rocking. Her eyes were distant, but when I brushed her hair back gently, she blinked and looked up at me.

“I think… I saw him,” she whispered. “Damon.”

My heart stuttered. “Where?”

“In the mirror. Just for a second. He was… floating. Like he was somewhere else. Not dead. Trapped.”

I didn’t question her. Emilia had always been more sensitive to the energies in this house.

“We’ll find a way to bring him back,” I said, more to convince myself than her. “We will.”

The next morning came, but the sun barely rose.

A thick fog had descended around the mansion, sealing it in a gray, lifeless haze. My phone had no service. The landline was dead. The backup generator had failed.

We were alone. Again.

I went back to the attic, searching through Elias Thornhart’s records, hoping there was more he had written. Something about reversing the oath or freeing someone bound to the Watcher’s realm.

That’s when I found the second page of the covenant.

Tucked beneath the false bottom of the trunk, old and brittle—but intact.

“Should the heir’s blood be offered and the Watcher remain unsatisfied, a tether may be forged. One who walks between life and death must retrieve the soul from the realm beyond.”

“But beware. What returns… may not be the same.”

My breath hitched.

A tether.

A soul retriever.

Could it be… me?

My thoughts spiraled. Every vision. Every time I touched the mirror and felt it pulse beneath my skin. I had seen more than I should have. Maybe I was already marked.

Maybe I was meant to go in.

To bring Damon back.

But what if I lost myself in the process?

Downstairs, a crash echoed through the walls. I ran.

Emilia was in the hallway, staring at the front door. It had burst open.

And standing in the doorway—was a man.

Tall. Shadowed by fog. His coat was soaked from rain that hadn’t fallen. His eyes locked on mine.

Not Damon.

Not anyone I recognized.

But something in his gaze said he knew exactly who I was.

“Miss Carter,” he said, voice low and calm. “I believe you need my help.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who are you?”

He stepped inside, unbothered by the oppressive air, and closed the door behind him. Emilia moved behind me, clutching my shirt tightly.

“My name is Alaric Vane. I was sent by the Order.”

I blinked. “The Order?”

He nodded. “The Order of the Veil. We monitor breaches. Supernatural transgressions. And… contain them.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver amulet etched with the same sigil from Isobel’s journal.

“Why now?” I asked, my voice hard. “Why show up now, after Damon—after everything?”

“Because your friend broke the blood oath. And in doing so, ripped a hole in the boundary. You’ve drawn the attention of more than just the Watcher now. Others are coming.”

My stomach sank. “Others?”

“The realm between life and death is thin here. And growing thinner. You need to go in. Soon. Before Damon’s soul is devoured—or worse, turned.”

My blood ran cold. “How?”

He held up a black vial. “This will allow you to cross over for a short time. But the risk is enormous. You must tether yourself to something on this side—a living anchor—or you’ll be lost.”

“Me,” Emilia said suddenly. “I’ll be her anchor.”

“No,” I said instantly. “You’re just a child.”

“She’s more than that,” Alaric said, studying her. “She’s the reason this started. Her bloodline is tied to the Watcher. That makes her stronger than she appears.”

Emilia met my gaze. “I want him back.”

My heart ached. I took the vial and stared into its swirling darkness.

I was going to do it.

For Damon.

For us.

As night fell, we returned to the East Wing. Alaric began drawing runes in salt around the remnants of the mirror. Emilia sat at the center, holding a candle.

Alaric handed me the vial. “Drink. Then focus on him. Picture Damon. Hold that image. It’s your key.”

I hesitated for only a second.

Then drank.

The world tilted. Lights flickered. The air grew thick, as if breathing through water. My body convulsed, then settled.

And suddenly—I was standing in a mirror world.

A cold, endless corridor of silver and smoke.

“Damon?” I called.

No answer.

I walked forward, shadows slithering along the floor. The air was sharp with whispers and cries. Faces pressed against invisible walls, reaching, begging.

And then I saw him.

Chained to a cracked pillar of glass, his eyes closed, skin pale.

“Damon!”

His head turned slowly. “Ava…?”

I ran to him. The chains burned my hands as I touched them. He winced.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “It wants you too.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

From the dark, a shadow peeled away.

The Watcher.

Its form was clearer now. More human. Eyes like twin obsidian stones. It smiled at me.

“You offer yourself freely?” it asked.

“No. I take him back.”

I raised my sliced palm, still bleeding.

“Then pay the price,” it hissed.

The pillar shattered. Damon gasped. We fell—falling through smoke—until light swallowed us both.

I awoke coughing, back in the East Wing.

Damon was beside me, alive. Breathing.

Emilia sobbed. Alaric stood silent.

“You did it,” Alaric said. “But something crossed over with you.”

I looked around.

The room felt different.

And then, in the mirror shards… a second reflection.

Watching.

Smiling.

Waiting.