The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 35: Camille Breaks

The trees ahead whispered like a warning.

Camille staggered through the clearing, her breath shallow, her limbs barely listening to her. The mimic’s blood still clung to her hands, drying black against the skin, but she didn’t stop to wipe it away. Her knees throbbed, her jaw ached from where it had struck a root mid-fight, and something inside her chest had cracked open.

Not physically.

But something deeper.

Something older.

She had killed it.

She had watched its eyes her eyes go dim. The mimic had fallen, rolled into the ravine, and shattered against the stones below. And yet, the scream still echoed in her head. Her scream. Not its.

You were supposed to be me, it had whispered.

And that was the problem.

Because some part of her... had felt it.

Camille bent over at the edge of the clearing, retching into the soil.

Not from exhaustion.

From the realization that she had just stared into a version of herself that was too close to deny.

A version born not from nightmares, but from someone’s plan.

A version that could have lived had she not.

The wind picked up, stirring her blood-matted hair.

She sat back, legs folded under her, eyes closed, letting the wind rush over her. Her bond pulsed faintly. Somewhere in the distance, Magnolia’s thread tried to reach her but it felt fragile now, thinned from all the tearing, stretched too tight to hold weight.

She reached toward it mentally.

It recoiled.

She flinched.

It wasn’t Magnolia’s rejection it was her own inability to connect anymore. Her soul didn’t know how to reach anymore. She was drifting inside herself, fragmented. The mimic hadn’t just attacked her it had shattered something in her spirit. Something primal. Something irreplaceable.

Her wolf.

It hadn’t risen to defend her.

It hadn’t surfaced once.

Even in mortal danger, the thing curled inside her chest had stayed silent.

Was it sleeping?

Or had it gone completely?

She didn’t know.

She was too afraid to ask.

Time passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. The sun was beginning to lower. Shadows stretched. And then

Footsteps.

She rose slowly, too tired to brace for a fight, but too stubborn to collapse. Her dagger was still in her hand. Her wrist trembled from the effort.

Then the figure stepped into view.

Magnolia.

No weapon drawn. No cloak. No anger.

Just breathless, raw presence.

Their eyes met.

And Camille nearly dropped the blade.

"You came," she said.

Magnolia didn’t speak.

She stepped forward.

"You found the mimic," Camille continued. "You saw its face."

"I saw yours," Magnolia whispered.

Silence fell.

The kind that trembled on the edge of everything unspoken.

Camille stepped back.

"I don’t know who I am anymore."

Magnolia stopped in front of her.

"Then let me help you remember."

They sat in the hollow where the mimic had first cornered her.

The blood had soaked into the roots. The frost had melted where Camille’s energy had surged. But it was quiet now. The wind had gentled. The trees didn’t seem to whisper anymore.

Camille stared into the dying light.

"I felt it," she said quietly. "When I stabbed her. It wasn’t just pain."

Magnolia sat across from her, knees drawn to her chest.

"What was it?"

"Memory."

Camille swallowed hard.

"She showed me things. Flashes. Images. Places I’ve never been. But felt like mine."

Magnolia tilted her head. "Were they?"

Camille didn’t answer right away.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But they were real. And they belonged to a part of me I’ve never been allowed to remember."

Magnolia was silent.

Camille continued.

"I’m starting to think... none of this is about the mimic. Or even me. It’s about them. The ones who made me."

"Sterling?"

"Elara. The High Circle. Even Rhett’s father. They weren’t trying to protect me. They were trying to keep me."

"Why?"

"Because I’m not a person," Camille said flatly. "I’m a vessel."

"No."

Camille looked up sharply.

Magnolia’s eyes burned with certainty.

"You’re Camille Voss. You laugh at your own jokes. You hate tea but drink it out of politeness. You sleep with one hand curled into your braid, like you’re afraid it’ll unravel without you watching it. You love hard. You get scared but pretend not to. You’re more than what they made you."

Camille blinked.

"You remembered all that?"

Magnolia nodded once.

"Because I chose to."

A beat passed.

Camille’s voice cracked.

"I’m scared, Maggie." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

"I am too."

"I don’t know what’s happening to me."

"We’ll figure it out together."

Camille’s lip quivered.

"Do you still love me?"

Magnolia stood, crossed the space between them, and dropped to her knees.

She cupped Camille’s face gently.

"I never stopped."

Camille’s chest shuddered.

"I don’t feel human anymore."

"You don’t have to be."

Magnolia leaned in.

And kissed her.

Not out of passion.

Out of promise.

When they broke apart, the mark on Camille’s palm pulsed.

But it didn’t burn this time.

It glowed.

Warm.

Steady.

Real.

And the forest held its breath.

Rhett arrived with Beckett just after dusk.

They found the seal site still untouched, though the energy in the air hummed with power thick and dense, like rain about to fall.

Camille stood over the seal, barefoot, blood still on her arm. Magnolia beside her, hand resting lightly at her back.

Rhett approached slowly.

"I didn’t think you’d be here."

Camille didn’t turn.

"Neither did I."

Beckett stayed near the edge of the clearing, eyes flicking to the broken runes etched in the old stone. "This is it?"

Camille nodded.

"It’s the last seal."

"The one they used to bind you?"

"The one they used to bind what I carry," she corrected.

Rhett stepped forward.

"We need to stop it."

Camille faced him.

"No. We need to open it."

Beckett tensed. "You want to release what’s behind that?"

"I want to face it," she said calmly. "Because it’s already inside me."

Rhett’s voice was firm. "That could kill you."

"Then I die knowing."

Magnolia stepped beside her.

"You won’t face it alone."

Rhett’s eyes flicked between them.

"You’re really going to do this?"

Camille reached for Magnolia’s hand.

The mark flared between their palms.

"I already did."

The seal cracked.

A pulse of red light surged through the forest, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. Wind screamed. Shadows rose from the trees, pulled toward the stone.

The gate began to open.

But there was no door.

Only memory.

Camille gasped as visions poured into her faces, hands, chains, a name whispered a thousand times in the dark.

Caelia.

And beneath it all

A girl.

With her face.

Screaming.

Not in pain.

In defiance.

Camille dropped to her knees.

But Magnolia caught her.

Held her tight.

"Breathe," she said. "I’m here."

"I see her," Camille sobbed. "She’s me. She’s still in me."

"Then we bring her home."

And as the gate opened wide

Camille stood.

Not as a vessel.

Not as a mimic.

But as herself.

Whole.

Awake.