The dream came again.
Not a memory. Not a vision. A dream—twisted, fevered, stitched together from grief and guilt and the quiet hum of the bond that now lived inside me like a second pulse. I was back in the dungeon beneath the Valen estate, the air thick with iron and decay. Torchlight flickered against damp stone, casting long shadows that moved like serpents. And there she was—my mother.
Not broken. Not chained. Not the hollow-eyed prisoner I remembered from the final days. No. She stood tall, her storm-gray eyes blazing with defiance, her wild black hair cascading over her shoulders like a banner. She wore the same velvet gown I’d seen in the family portrait—the one I kept hidden beneath my floorboards, wrapped in salt and silver to mask its magic.
“Tide,” she whispered, her voice echoing as if from a great distance. “You’re so close.”
“Mother,” I said, reaching for her. But my hand passed through her like smoke. “I’m coming. I’ll break the bond. I’ll make them pay.”
She smiled—soft, sad. “It’s not about revenge, little storm. It’s about truth.”
“What truth?” I asked, heart pounding. “Tell me what I don’t know.”
But she only shook her head. “Look for the name. The one he never speaks. The one buried in blood.”
“Who? Kael? His father?”
She didn’t answer. Just reached out, her fingers brushing my cheek—cold, insubstantial. “Break the chain,” she said. “Not the man.”
And then she was gone, the dungeon collapsing into shadow, the walls dissolving into smoke—
I woke with a gasp, bolting upright in bed, my heart hammering, my skin slick with sweat. The ring on my finger pulsed—once, twice—like a heartbeat out of sync. The bond hummed beneath my skin, warm, insistent, almost… soothing.
I hated that.
I hated that even in fear, in grief, in the raw ache of missing her, the bond offered comfort. That it reached for Kael, as if he could anchor me when the world was falling apart.
But he wasn’t here.
The other side of the bed was empty. Cold. The sheets were untouched. He hadn’t slept beside me.
I didn’t know whether to feel relief… or betrayal.
The suite was silent, the fire reduced to embers, the torches dim. Dawn hadn’t broken yet—just the faintest gray bleed at the edges of the heavy crimson drapes. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet meeting cold marble. My body ached—not from violence, not from magic, but from the emotional war I’d fought all night. The kiss. The tears. Riven’s warning. Kael’s arms around me, his voice in my ear, the way I’d let myself feel.
I couldn’t afford to feel.
Not yet.
I stood, moving to the wardrobe, pulling out the clothes Riven had brought—dark trousers, a high-collared tunic, sturdy boots. Practical. Ready. I dressed in silence, each movement stiff, mechanical. My hair I braided tightly, pulling it back from my face. I needed to look like a weapon. Not a woman. Not a lover. Not a daughter.
Just a storm.
A knock at the door.
I tensed, magic coiling in my palms. “Enter.”
The door opened. Not a servant. Not Riven.
Kael.
He stepped in, dressed in black, his circlet absent, his hair slightly tousled, as if he’d been awake for hours. His eyes—obsidian, unreadable—flicked over me, lingering on the braid, the boots, the way my hands were clenched at my sides.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“So are you,” I replied, voice flat.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. Just stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I was in the war room. Reviewing old archives. There are gaps in the records—around the time your mother was taken.”
My breath caught. “You’re looking into it?”
“I’m not your enemy, Tide,” he said, stepping closer. “Not anymore.”
“You were last night,” I shot back. “You locked me in that chamber. You kissed me like I was yours.”
“And you let me,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t stop me. You didn’t want to.”
“That doesn’t mean I belong to you.”
“No,” he said. “It means you’re starting to see me. Not as a monster. Not as your mother’s jailer. But as someone who wants to fix this.”
I looked away. “You can’t fix what’s already broken.”
“Then let’s break it again,” he said. “Let’s burn it all down. But this time, together.”
I turned back to him. “Why? Why would you help me?”
He hesitated. Just a fraction. But I saw it. The crack in his armor. The guilt. The grief.
“Because I failed her,” he said quietly. “And I won’t fail you.”
My chest ached.
Not from anger. Not from hatred.
From something worse.
Hope.And I couldn’t afford hope.
“You should’ve said that before,” I said, voice breaking. “Before the bond. Before the lies. Before I started wondering if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the one I should hate.”
He stepped closer, his hand lifting, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Then let me say it now. Let me prove it.”
The bond flared—warm, deep, aching. My breath hitched. My body leaned into his touch without permission.
And I hated that I didn’t pull away.
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” I whispered.
“Then let me show you,” he said.
He turned, walking to the wardrobe. From behind a false panel—something I hadn’t noticed before—he pulled out a leather-bound journal, its cover cracked with age, the spine etched with faded silver runes.
My breath stopped.
It was my mother’s.
I’d recognize it anywhere. She’d written in it every night, whispering spells, recording visions, mapping the stars. I’d hidden it after her death, too sacred to read, too painful to burn.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“It was in my father’s private vault,” he said, handing it to me. “I found it last night. Hidden beneath a false floorboard, sealed with blood magic. I didn’t open it. I knew it was yours.”
I took it, my fingers trembling as I traced the runes. The leather was warm. Alive. And beneath it—faint, but unmistakable—her magic. Her scent. Her soul.
“Why would he have this?” I asked, tears burning my eyes. “Why keep it?”
“I don’t know,” Kael said. “But I think it holds answers. About the bond. About her. About… me.”
I looked up at him. “You’re giving this to me? Just like that?”
“I’m not giving it,” he said. “I’m returning it. And I’m asking you to let me read it with you. To find the truth—together.”
I stared at him. At the journal. At the man who had once been my enemy, who had once been my captor, who had now given me the one thing I’d thought lost forever.
And I didn’t know whether to kiss him… or kill him.
“Sit,” he said, guiding me to the chaise near the hearth. “Let’s open it together.”
I hesitated—then did as he said.
He sat beside me, close enough that our arms brushed, his presence a steady weight against my side. I placed the journal on my lap, my fingers hovering over the clasp. My heart pounded. My breath came fast.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
Together, we opened it.
The first page was blank. The second—dated twenty-five years ago—bore a single line, written in my mother’s elegant script:
“He came to me tonight. Not as a master. Not as a monster. But as a boy. He brought me water. He called me Elara.”
My breath caught.
Elara.
Her name.
The name no one had spoken since she died.
“You knew her name,” I whispered, looking at Kael. “You called her that in the memory.”
He nodded. “I did. I was the only one who ever did. The others called her ‘the witch.’ ‘the slave.’ ‘the storm.’ But I… I saw her. I saw you in her. The fire. The defiance. The way she wouldn’t break.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“Go on,” he said softly.
I turned the page.
“He came again. Left bread this time. Warm. Fresh. Said his father wouldn’t notice. I told him not to risk it. He said he had to. Said he couldn’t stand to see me suffer. I asked him his name. He told me. I won’t write it here. Not yet. But I think… I think he’s different.”
My hands trembled.
He’d risked everything. For her.
For a prisoner.
For a woman he barely knew.
“You were seventeen,” I said, voice breaking. “You were just a boy.”
“And I was powerless,” he said. “But I wasn’t heartless.”
I turned the page.
“They took me today. Moved me to a deeper cell. I don’t know why. But before they did, he found me. Pressed this journal into my hands. Told me to write. To remember. To survive. I asked him to run. To leave. He said he couldn’t. That the bond would kill him. I didn’t understand. Not then. But I do now. The bond isn’t just magic. It’s fate. And it’s coming for her. For Tide. I can feel it. And when it does… he’ll be the only one who can save her.”
I froze.
“What?” I whispered, looking at Kael. “She knew? She knew about the bond?”
He was pale. Shaken. “I didn’t know she’d written this. I didn’t know she’d seen it.”
“She said you’d save me,” I said, voice trembling. “She said you were the only one.”
He didn’t answer. Just reached for my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive.
I turned the page.
“They’re coming for her. I can feel it. The bond is waking. And when it does, they’ll try to break it. They’ll try to kill him. But she mustn’t. She mustn’t destroy the bond. It’s the only thing that can free me. The only thing that can break the curse. Find the name, Tide. Find the name buried in blood. It’s the key.”
I looked up at Kael, tears streaming down my face. “The name. The one he never speaks. That’s what she meant.”
“And the one buried in blood,” he said, voice low. “I think… I think it’s mine.”
“What?”
“Not Kael,” he said. “That’s the name my father gave me. The one he forced on me. But my birth name… it’s something else. Something he erased. Something I haven’t spoken in over two centuries.”
“What is it?” I asked, heart pounding.
He hesitated. Then, softly: “Elion.”
The moment he said it, the bond roared.
Not a surge. Not a spark.
A tsunami.
Fire ripped through my veins. Lightning crackled over my skin. The journal flew from my lap, pages fluttering like wings. The ring on my finger blazed—hot, then cold, then hot again. And then—
I was no longer in the suite.
I was in her mind.
My mother.
She stood in the dungeon, the journal in her hands, her storm-gray eyes blazing with power. She was writing—furious, desperate—and as she wrote, the words glowed, rising from the page like smoke, forming a sigil in the air.
And at the center of it—his name.
Elion.
She whispered it like a prayer. Like a spell. Like a key turning in a lock.
And then—
The sigil flared.
The dungeon shook.
And the bond—ancient, cursed, chained—shattered.
I gasped, staggering back, but the vision held me, binding me in a way that wasn’t just physical.
It was truth.
“She knew,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. “She knew the bond could free her. That it could break the curse. That you could save her.”
Kael—no, Elion—reached for me, his hands gripping my arms. “I didn’t know,” he said, voice raw. “I didn’t know she’d written this. I didn’t know she’d seen it. But now I do. And now we have a choice.”
“What choice?” I asked.
“To destroy the bond,” he said. “Or to use it.”
“Use it how?”
“To break the curse,” he said. “To free her soul. To burn my father to ash.”
I stared at him. At the man who had once been my enemy. At the boy who had brought my mother water. At the man who had whispered her name like a prayer.
And I didn’t know whether to hate him… or claim him.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said, voice hoarse.
“Neither are you,” he said.
And then—
I kissed him.
Not like before. Not angry. Not desperate.
Soft.
Slow.
Real.
His lips were cool, but the kiss was fire. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. The bond roared to life, a tidal wave of sensation—her voice, her magic, her love, flooding through us like a river breaking its banks.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
For the first time, I didn’t run.
For the first time, I let myself believe—
That maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t come here to destroy him.
Maybe I’d come here to save him.
And in saving him… save myself.
He pulled back, his thumb brushing my cheek. “We’ll find the truth,” he said. “Together.”
“Together,” I whispered.
And as the first light of dawn broke through the drapes, painting the room in gold and shadow, I knew—
The mission hadn’t changed.
The enemy hadn’t changed.
But I had.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
The summons came at noon.
A Fae messenger, draped in silver and ash, appeared at the suite’s door with a sealed scroll bearing the sigil of the Witch Conclave. My breath caught when I saw it—the jagged lightning bolt surrounded by thorns. The same mark I’d carved into my skin the night I swore vengeance. The same mark that had once burned with pride and now only ached with betrayal.
“Mara requests your presence,” the messenger said, voice hollow. “She claims it is urgent. About your mother.”
My fingers tightened around the scroll. “She should’ve come herself.”
“She cannot,” the messenger said. “The Conclave has restricted her movements. But she insisted. Said you would come. Said you would not refuse her.”
I almost laughed. Almost.
Because she was right.
“Tell her I’ll be there,” I said, voice flat. “At dusk.”
The messenger bowed and vanished in a ripple of glamour.
Kael stepped out of the shadows, his presence a steady weight against the silence. “You’re going.”
“You’re not stopping me.”
“I wouldn’t,” he said. “But I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he said, stepping closer. “You don’t know what she’ll say. What she’ll do. And if she’s involved in this—if she knew your mother’s fate, if she made a deal with my father—I need to be there.”
“This is between me and her,” I said, voice rising. “My mother. My blood. My vengeance.”
“And the bond,” he said. “Which means it’s between me too.”
I wanted to argue. To rage. To summon lightning and tear the room apart.
But I didn’t.
Because he was right.
And that was the worst part.
“Fine,” I said, voice cold. “But you don’t speak. You don’t interfere. You watch. You listen. And you stay the hell out of it.”
He didn’t smile. Just nodded. “I’ll be silent. But I’ll be there.”
The Witch Conclave was hidden beneath Oxford, a labyrinth of stone corridors lit by floating orbs of blue flame. The air smelled of salt, iron, and old magic—the scent of blood rituals and broken oaths. Mara waited in the inner sanctum, seated on a throne of blackened roots, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes—storm-gray, like mine—filled with something I couldn’t name.
Grief? Regret? Guilt?
Or just another lie?
“Tide,” she said, rising. “You came.”
“You knew I would,” I said, stepping forward. “You always knew how to pull my strings.”
She flinched. “I didn’t want to.”
“But you did.”
“I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” I said, voice low. “And you chose to let my mother die.”
“No,” she said, stepping closer. “I chose to save my coven. To protect the last of the Storm Witches. To keep you alive.”
“By letting her suffer?” I demanded, magic crackling in my palms. “By letting her be enslaved? By letting her die alone, broken, forgotten?”
“I didn’t know it would go that far,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I thought I could bargain. I thought I could delay. I thought I could buy time. But your mother—she refused to let me help. She told me to run. To save myself. To protect you.”
“And you listened,” I spat. “You left her.”
“I did,” she said, voice breaking. “And I’ve lived with that every day since.”
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Kael stood in the shadows, unmoving, unreadable. Watching. Listening.
And then—
“You made a pact with Vexen,” I said, voice low. “Didn’t you?”
She didn’t deny it. Just looked at me, her storm-gray eyes filled with shame. “I did. I gave him information. About the Storm Witches. About our magic. About your mother’s lineage. In exchange, he promised to spare my coven. To let me live.”
“And my mother?”
“He said she was already lost,” Mara whispered. “That she’d been marked. That the bond was irreversible. That even if I tried to free her, it would kill her.”
“Liar,” I said, stepping forward. “You didn’t try. You didn’t fight. You didn’t even *try*.”
“I did,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I tried to break the contract. I tried to sever the bond. But it was too strong. And when I failed, I knew—if I kept fighting, he’d kill me. And then who would protect you? Who would train you? Who would make sure you were ready?”
My breath caught.
“You trained me,” I said, voice shaking. “You taught me how to fight. How to kill. How to survive. And all this time—was it just guilt? Was it just penance?”
“No,” she said, stepping closer. “It was love. It was duty. It was the only way I could honor her. By making sure her daughter was strong enough to face him. Strong enough to destroy him.”
“And now?” I asked. “Now that I’ve met him? Now that the bond has awakened? Now that I’m not sure I even *want* to destroy him?”
She looked at Kael—really looked at him—for the first time. “Then you’ve already won.”
“What?”
“The bond wasn’t meant to enslave,” she said. “It was meant to *free*. To break the curse. To awaken the true power of the Storm Witches. Your mother knew that. That’s why she told you to find the name. That’s why she said to break the chain, not the man.”
My chest ached.
“You knew,” I whispered. “You knew the bond could save her.”
“I did,” she said. “But I couldn’t tell you. Not then. Not until you were ready. Not until you felt it for yourself.”
“And Kael?” I asked. “What about him?”
“He’s not your enemy,” Mara said. “He’s your ally. Your partner. Your salvation.”
I looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since the dream. At the man who had brought my mother water. Who had whispered her name. Who had tried to save her. Who had failed. Who had carried that guilt for centuries.
And I didn’t know whether to hate him… or claim him.
“You should’ve told me,” I said, turning back to Mara. “You should’ve trusted me.”
“I was afraid,” she said. “Afraid you’d rush in. Afraid you’d get yourself killed. Afraid you’d destroy the one chance to break the curse.”
“And now?”
“Now,” she said, stepping forward, “I trust you. I believe in you. And I know—whatever you choose, it will be the right one.”
She reached out, her hand trembling, and pressed a small vial into my palm. Inside, a single drop of blood—dark, ancient, humming with power.
“This is your mother’s,” she said. “The last of her essence. Use it when the time comes. To break the bond. To free her soul. To burn Vexen to ash.”
I closed my fingers around the vial. “Thank you.”
She smiled—soft, sad. “No, Tide. Thank *you*. For surviving. For fighting. For becoming the storm she always knew you’d be.”
And then—
She stepped back, her eyes meeting Kael’s. “Protect her. Or I’ll kill you myself.”
He didn’t flinch. Just nodded. “I will.”
We left in silence, the vial burning in my palm, the weight of truth pressing between us. Back in the suite, the door clicked shut behind us, and I didn’t wait.
“You knew,” I said, turning to him. “You knew Mara had this.”
“I suspected,” he said. “But I didn’t know for sure. Not until now.”
“And you still let me go?”
“I had to,” he said. “You needed to hear it from her. To believe it. To choose.”
“And if I’d chosen to walk away?”
“Then I’d have let you,” he said. “But I’d have followed. Because you’re mine. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
I didn’t answer. Just stepped closer, rising on my toes—and kissed him.
Not like before. Not angry. Not desperate.
Soft.
Slow.
Real.
His lips were cool, but the kiss was fire. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. The bond roared to life, a tidal wave of sensation—her voice, her magic, her love, flooding through us like a river breaking its banks.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
For the first time, I didn’t run.
For the first time, I let myself believe—
That maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t come here to destroy him.
Maybe I’d come here to save him.
And in saving him… save myself.