The world exploded in fire and fang.
Malrik’s shadow magic ripped through the air like a living thing—black tendrils coiling from his outstretched hand, hungry, searching, reaching for Kaelen’s throat. I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. I stepped forward, my body a shield, my arms raised, and fire erupted from my palms—not wild, not uncontrolled, but a wall of golden-white flame that seared through the shadows, scattering them like ash in the wind.
The heat rolled over me, blistering, cleansing. My armor glowed, the runes etched into the steel flaring to life, feeding off my magic, amplifying it. I could feel it—every pulse of power, every surge of fire, every breath of heat—like it was part of me. Like it always had been.
And then—
Malrik laughed.
Not in fear.
Not in surprise.
In amusement.
“Oh, little witch,” he purred, his voice slithering through the battlefield like smoke. “You think fire can stop shadow? You think love can stop power?”
He flicked his wrist.
And the shadows surged again—thicker, darker, faster—twisting around my flames, smothering them, snuffing them out like candles in a storm. The cold hit me like a blade, slicing through the heat, through the armor, through the bond. I staggered, my breath catching, my fire sputtering in my chest.
“Athena!” Kaelen roared.
He moved like lightning—faster than I could see, a blur of shadow and fang—but Malrik was ready. He raised his other hand, and a wave of dark energy slammed into Kaelen, throwing him back, his body crashing into the stone wall with a sickening crack.
“No!” I screamed.
I lunged for him, but Malrik was faster. He grabbed my wrist—his fingers like ice, his grip like iron—and yanked me toward him. His breath was cold against my ear, his voice a whisper of death.
“You were never meant to survive,” he said. “Cassia was the key. But you? You’re just the echo. The mistake.”
My blood turned to ice.
Not from fear.
From rage.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” I spat, wrenching my arm free. “You don’t get to say her name.”
He smiled—sharp, cruel. “And yet I will. Every second before you die, I’ll whisper it. I’ll make you hear her scream. I’ll make you feel her pain. I’ll make you—”
I didn’t let him finish.
Fire erupted from my free hand—not at him, not at his shadows—but at the ground beneath us. The stone cracked, split, burst into flame, and I dropped, rolling away as the heat swallowed the space where I’d stood. Malrik snarled, stumbling back, his robes singed, his face twisted in fury.
But I wasn’t done.
I rose, my hands blazing, my armor pulsing with heat, and I pushed.
Not just fire.
Not just magic.
Every ounce of pain, every moment of grief, every lie I’d believed, every wall I’d built—I poured it all into the flames. They roared to life, a cyclone of golden-white fire spiraling around me, consuming the air, the stone, the shadows. The Dregs screamed as they burned. The Nobles fell, their armor melting, their flesh blackening.
And Malrik—
He stepped back.
Just one step.
But it was enough.
He was afraid.
And that—
That was the crack.
“You think this changes anything?” he hissed, his voice trembling now, not with fear, but with rage. “You think your little flame makes you strong? You’re still just a human. A witch. A *nothing*.”
“I’m not nothing,” I said, stepping forward, the fire swirling around me like a living thing. “I’m Athena. Sister of Cassia. Mate of Kaelen. And I’m not your pawn. I’m not your weapon. I’m not your *mistake*.”
He raised his hands again, shadows coiling, ready to strike—
But then—
Kaelen was on him.
He moved like death—silent, relentless, his fangs bared, his eyes burning red. He slammed into Malrik, driving him to the ground, his hands around his throat, his voice a snarl of pure, unfiltered rage.
“You killed her,” Kaelen growled. “You framed her. You executed her. You took her from us.”
Malrik laughed, even as Kaelen’s fingers tightened. “And you let her die. You stood by. You let the Council take her. You let the world believe she was guilty. You’re no better than I am.”
Kaelen hesitated.
Just a fraction of a second.
But it was enough.
Malrik twisted, his hand shooting up, his fingers digging into Kaelen’s chest—right over his heart. Not to crush it. Not to stop it.
To burn it.
Black fire erupted from his palm, searing through Kaelen’s coat, his skin, his flesh. Kaelen screamed—raw, guttural, a sound of pure agony—and I felt it in my own chest, a white-hot spike of pain that stole my breath, that made my knees buckle.
The bond.
It wasn’t just a connection.
It was a tether.
And if he died—
I died with him.
“No!” I screamed, launching myself forward.
But I was too late.
Malrik shoved Kaelen off, rising to his feet, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing with triumph. Kaelen lay on the ground, writhing, his body convulsing, his skin blackened where the shadow fire had burned him. He was alive. But barely.
And Malrik knew it.
He turned to me, his smile sharp as a blade. “Now you watch him die. Just like she did.”
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t cry.
I just burned.
Not with fire.
With everything I was.
With every broken piece of my soul.
I dropped to my knees beside Kaelen, my hands pressing over the wound in his chest. The black fire was still burning, eating through his flesh, his magic, his very being. I could feel it—cold, hungry, wrong. But I didn’t pull away. I leaned in, my forehead touching his, my breath mingling with his, and I let the fire come.
Not from my hands.
From my heart.
Golden-white flames erupted from my palms, not to destroy, but to heal. They poured into the wound, fighting the shadow fire, driving it back, burning it away. Kaelen gasped, his body arching, his fingers clutching at my arms, his eyes flying open—red, burning, alive.
“Athena—” he choked.
“Shh,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”
But Malrik wasn’t done.
He raised his hands again, shadows swirling, ready to strike—
And then—
A voice.
Not from behind us.
Not from the battlefield.
From within.
“Use the bond.”
Maeve.
My mentor. My blood. The only one who’d known the truth from the beginning.
“Not to fight,” she said. “To join. To become. The fire and the shadow. The witch and the vampire. You’re not two. You’re one.”
I closed my eyes.
And I reached.
Not for my magic.
Not for my fire.
For him.
The bond flared—not with fever, not with magic, but with truth. I could feel him—his pain, his fear, his love, his rage. I could feel the shadow fire eating at him, consuming him. And I didn’t fight it alone.
I pulled it into me.
Not the fire.
The poison.
The darkness. The corruption. The lie.
I let it in.
And then—
I burned it.
From the inside.
My body convulsed, my back arching, my mouth opening in a silent scream as the shadow fire tore through me, trying to consume me, to break me. But I didn’t let it. I held on—to Kaelen, to the bond, to the truth—and I burned it.
Golden-white flames erupted from my skin, from my eyes, from my mouth, searing through the darkness, purging it, destroying it. I could feel it—every inch of my body, every fiber of my soul—being consumed, being reborn.
And then—
It was gone.
The shadow fire—extinguished.
The wound in Kaelen’s chest—sealed.
And me—
I was still.
Alive.
Whole.
I collapsed against Kaelen, my breath ragged, my body trembling, my magic spent. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, his face buried in my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
“You’re alive,” he whispered. “You’re alive.”
“So are you,” I said, my voice weak, but steady.
He pulled back, his red eyes searching mine. “You took it into yourself.”
“I had to,” I said. “It was killing you.”
“And it could’ve killed you.”
“But it didn’t.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his arms, holding me like he’d never let go.
And then—
Malrik.
He stood a few feet away, his face twisted in fury, his hands clenched into fists. The battlefield was silent now—no Dregs, no Nobles, no shadows. Just us. Just the three of us.
“You think this changes anything?” he spat. “You think love makes you strong? You’re still just a witch. A vampire. A nothing.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stood.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But surely.
My armor was cracked, my clothes singed, my body aching. But I was standing. And I was alive.
“You’re wrong,” I said, stepping forward. “We’re not nothing. We’re the fire and the shadow. The witch and the vampire. The truth and the vow. And we’re not just fighting for the Veil.
We’re fighting for her.
For Cassia.
And we’re not letting you take that from us.”
Malrik snarled, raising his hands—
But I was faster.
Fire erupted from my palms, not at him, but at the ground beneath his feet. The stone cracked, split, burst into flame, and he stumbled, falling to one knee. I didn’t stop. I stepped forward, my hands blazing, my voice steady.
“You killed her,” I said. “You framed her. You executed her. And you thought no one would remember. No one would care. But you were wrong.”
Another step.
Another wave of fire.
“She was my sister,” I said. “And I loved her. And I will not let her die in vain.”
Malrik looked up at me, his eyes wide, not with fear, but with something worse.
With recognition.
“You’re just like her,” he whispered.
“No,” I said. “I’m not. I’m me. And I’m not afraid of you.”
And then—
I burned.
Not with fire.
With everything I was.
With every broken piece of my soul.
The flames erupted from my hands, from my heart, from my very being, and they consumed him. Not just his body. Not just his magic.
His soul.
He screamed—raw, guttural, a sound of pure, unfiltered terror—as the fire swallowed him, reducing him to ash, to nothing, to dust.
And then—
It was over.
The battlefield was silent.
The shadows were gone.
The Veil was whole.
And I—
I was still standing.
Kaelen rose beside me, his hand finding mine, his fingers lacing with mine. The bond hummed between us—steady, deep, a second heartbeat. Not forced. Not manipulated. Chosen.
“It’s over,” he said.
“It’s not over,” I said. “It’s just beginning.”
He looked at me—those red eyes burning, searching, testing.
And when he saw that I meant it, that I wasn’t done, that I was just getting started—he smiled.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
“Then we fight,” he said.
“Together,” I said.
And as the sun rose over Blackthorne Keep, painting the sky in fire and gold, I realized—
For the first time in five years—
I wasn’t running.
I wasn’t hiding.
I wasn’t fighting alone.
I had him.
And that—
That was everything.