Page 164 of Ashes to Ashes

But this time, something’s different.

Graves’ voice carries across the chamber with total certainty: “When you strip away magical influence, political pressure, and supernatural manipulation—who do you truly choose to stand beside? Who has earned your authentic loyalty through genuine care, not magical compulsion?”

The stone erupts with silver fire.

I expect brutal invasion, but the Truth Stone recognizes something I don’t—this question is wrong, loaded with false assumptions, designed to force a predetermined answer.

Truth magic doesn’t just reveal. It corrects.

The images that explode above my head aren’t what Graves expects to see.

Memory after memory bursts into brilliant holographic detail:

Kieran carrying me from boundary hunters, choosing to risk his father’s wrath to keep me safe. The way his shadows wrapped around me like armor, like he’d rather die than let anything hurt me.

Finnian trusting me with forbidden knowledge despite political consequences that could see him executed for treason. His amber eyes holding faith in my potential when I had none in myself.

Orion standing with me against Wild Court judgment, defying ancient protocols because he saw something in me worth protecting. The guardian oath that binds him not to my power but to my person.

All three of them seeing my darkest revelations tonight and choosing to stay. Choosing to burn with protective fury instead of walking away.

Then the stone shows the human “care”:

Davis systematically poisoning my coffee with iron supplements, watching my magic dim with satisfaction. Years of deliberate suppression disguised as love.

Graves positioning me as a weapon while calling it protection, training me to seek approval from authority figures, shaping me into something that would never question orders.

Years of carefully constructed isolation from anything that might make me question my role as property.

The truth that emerges isn’t what Graves asked for—it’s what the Truth Stone determines he needs to hear:

“The bonds formed through choice, sacrifice, and acceptance are authentic. The bonds formed through deception, control, and suppression are false.”

The words reverberate through the chamber with the weight of absolute truth, making stone walls ring like temple bells.

The relief hits like a tidal wave, washing away months of doubt and self-recrimination.

Every moment of wondering if I was broken. Every question about whether my feelings were real or just trauma response. Every fear that I was too damaged for authentic connection.

Stripped away by magic that cannot lie.

I choose them. Not because I’m programmed to. Not because I’m broken. Because they see me—really see me—and stay anyway. That’s not conditioning. That’s love.

And now everyone knows it.

When the Truth Stone’s final pulse sends me crumpling to my knees, it’s not from agony alone.

It’s from relief so pure it makes something crack open in my chest.

In the Wild Court gallery, Orion’s guardian oath blazes like a brand between his thumb and forefinger as he watches me collapse. Academy barriers hum with centuries of accumulated power, magical containment woven from ancient oaths.

But guardian bonds are older. Primal. Written in the first magic.

“Guardian.” The Morrigan’s voice cuts through chaos as power builds around Orion like a gathering storm. “Your oath or their law?”

Orion’s amber eyes find me collapsed and bleeding on ancient stone, and something fundamental snaps in his chest.

“No fucking contest.” His eyes burn with primal certainty. “She’s bleeding and they want to debate protocols? Screw their law.”

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