The silence after Vexen’s end wasn’t peace.
Not yet.
It was something quieter. Something heavier. Like the breath before a storm breaks—not the calm after, but the stillness of something vast and nameless settling into place. The bond still hummed beneath my skin, not with the old urgency, not with the desperate pull of magic and fate, but with something softer. Something slower. A pulse, steady and sure, like a heartbeat that had finally found its rhythm.
I stood in the suite, barefoot on the cold marble, my clothes torn at the shoulder, my hands still trembling from the fight, from the release, from the way I’d pressed my palm to Vexen’s chest and let the storm free him instead of destroy him. My mother’s voice still echoed in my mind—“Break the chain. Not the man.”—but now, it wasn’t a command. It was a benediction. A blessing. A beginning.
Kael—no, Elion—stood by the window, his back to me, his silhouette sharp against the first light of dawn. He hadn’t spoken since we returned. Hadn’t moved. Hadn’t tried to touch me. But I could feel him—through the bond, through the way my pulse still hitched when he shifted, when his coat brushed the floor, when his breath ghosted over my neck.
I hated that.
I hated that even now—after everything—I still felt him.
And yet.
I didn’t want him to stop.
“You should rest,” he said, voice low, rough. “You’ve been through enough.”
“I don’t need rest,” I said, stepping forward. “I need to understand.”
He turned, finally meeting my eyes. Obsidian. Unreadable. But beneath it—something warmer. Something I couldn’t name.
“Understand what?”
“This,” I said, lifting my hand, showing him the faint glow beneath my skin—where my mother’s essence had merged with mine. “The bond. The storm. The way I feel… like I’m not just me anymore.”
He didn’t flinch. Just stepped closer, his hand lifting, his thumb brushing my wrist. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive. Not with desire. Not with warning.
With recognition.
“You’re not just you,” he said. “You’re more. You’re her. You’re the storm. You’re the fire. And you’re mine.”
My breath caught.
Not from anger.
From the way his voice dropped—low, rough, intimate.
From the way my body responded—heat pooling low in my belly, the bond flaring beneath my skin.
“Don’t say that,” I whispered. “Don’t make it sound like a claim.”
“It’s not a claim,” he said. “It’s a truth. The bond doesn’t lie. It knows what it wants. And it wants you.”
“And what about me?” I asked, stepping back. “What do I want?”
He didn’t answer. Just watched me—steady, unyielding.
And I knew—
He didn’t have the answer.
Neither did I.
The door opened.
Not with a knock. Not with a warning.
With presence.
Mara stood in the threshold, her silver hair braided tight, her storm-gray eyes—so like my mother’s—searching mine. She wore the robes of the Shadow Line, dark and heavy, the sigils along the hem glowing faintly with old magic. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stood there, her breath shallow, her hands trembling.
And I knew—
She was afraid.
“You’re alive,” I said, voice flat.
“So are you,” she replied, stepping inside. The door clicked shut behind her. “I felt it. The bond. The storm. The way it changed. I knew you’d done it.”
“And you waited,” I said. “You didn’t come to help. You didn’t warn me. You just… watched.”
“I couldn’t interfere,” she said. “The pact I made with Vexen—it bound me. If I’d acted, he would’ve known. He would’ve taken you.”
“And now?” I asked. “Now that he’s gone?”
She didn’t answer. Just reached into her robes and pulled out a scroll—ancient, yellowed, sealed with black wax. “This is for you,” she said, handing it to me. “From your mother. She wrote it the night before she died. She told me to give it to you… when the chain was broken.”
My breath stopped.
Not from fear.
From the way the bond flared—warm, deep, alive.
From the way my hands trembled as I took the scroll.
“Why now?” I asked, voice breaking. “Why not before? Why not when I needed her most?”
“Because the bond had to be broken first,” she said. “The curse was still active. If you’d read it before, it would’ve torn you apart. It would’ve shown you things you weren’t ready to see.”
“And now?”
“Now,” she said, stepping closer, “you’re ready.”
I didn’t open it.
Not yet.
Just held it—this piece of her, this final whisper from the woman who had given me life, who had died for me, who had trusted her to protect me.
And failed.
“You lied to me,” I said, turning to Mara. “You made a pact with him. You helped him bind her. You let her suffer.”
“I did,” she said, no flinch, no denial. “I was afraid. I was weak. I thought if I gave him what he wanted—your mother’s magic—he’d spare my coven. I thought I was saving lives.”
“And were you?”
She hesitated. Then: “No. He killed them anyway. Every last one. Because he doesn’t keep promises. He only takes.”
My chest ached.
Not from anger.
From the truth in her voice.
From the way she looked at me—like I was the only thing left that mattered.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve lived with that guilt every day. I’ve spent my life trying to atone. Training you. Protecting you. Loving you like my own.”
And then—
She did something I never expected.
She knelt.
Not in submission.
In penance.
“If you want me to leave,” she said, head bowed, “I will. If you want me to die, I won’t fight you. But know this—I love you, Tide. Not because of your magic. Not because of your blood. But because you’re you.”
I didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just stared at her—this woman who had raised me, who had lied to me, who had failed me, who had loved me anyway.
And I didn’t know whether to hate her… or forgive her.
“Get up,” I said, voice quiet.
She didn’t.
“Get up,” I said again, louder. “I’m not your executioner. I’m not your judge. I’m not even sure I’m your student anymore.”
Slowly, she rose.
“Then what are you?” she asked.
“I’m free,” I said. “And I’m not alone.”
She looked at Kael—just once—and nodded.
And then—
She was gone.
The scroll burned in my hands.
Not literally. Not with fire.
With need.
I turned to Kael. “I need to read this. Alone.”
He didn’t argue. Just stepped forward, his hand lifting, his thumb brushing my cheek. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive. “I’ll be in the hall,” he said. “Call me if you need me.”
And then—
He left.
The door clicked shut.
And I was alone.
Not truly. Not with the bond still humming beneath my skin, not with my mother’s essence still pulsing in my veins. But alone in the way that mattered—in the quiet, in the stillness, in the space between heartbeats where truth lives.
I broke the seal.
The wax cracked. The scroll unfurled.
And then—
Her voice.
Not in my ears.
In my soul.
“My dearest Tide,
If you’re reading this, then the chain is broken. And I am free.
I don’t know if I’ll see you again in this life. But I know I’ll feel you. In the storm. In the wind. In the way the lightning answers your call. I am with you. I always have been.
You were not born of vengeance. You were born of love. Of defiance. Of the unbreakable will to be free. And I am so proud of you.
Do not mourn me. Do not hate. Do not let the past chain you the way it chained me. You are not me. You are more. You are the storm. You are the fire. You are the future.
And you are loved.
Not just by me. But by him.
Elion.
He was kind to me when no one else was. He brought me water. He called me Elara. He tried to save me. And when he couldn’t, he wept.
Do not fear what you feel for him. Do not deny it. Love is not weakness. It is strength. It is the only thing that can break a curse. The only thing that can heal a broken soul.
Break the chain. Not the man.
And when you do… love him. Love him like I couldn’t. Love him like you were meant to.
I am with you, always.
Your mother,
Elara.”
I didn’t cry.
Not at first.
Just stood there, the scroll trembling in my hands, my breath shallow, my heart pounding.
And then—
The tears came.
Not from grief.
From relief.
From the weight lifting—the years of anger, of hatred, of vengeance—slipping away like chains breaking in the storm. I sank to my knees, the scroll clutched to my chest, my body trembling, my breath ragged.
She hadn’t wanted me to destroy him.
She’d wanted me to love him.
And I had.
Not just because of the bond.
Not just because of the magic.
But because he was good. Because he’d tried. Because he’d wept.
Because he’d loved her.
And now—
He loved me.
The door opened.
Not with a knock.
With him.
Kael—Elion—stepped inside, his eyes searching mine, his presence a steady weight in the dark. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched me—kneeling, broken, weeping.
And then—
He knelt too.
Not in submission.
In solidarity.
His hand found mine—cool, deliberate. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive.
“You read it,” he said, voice low.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“And now?”
I looked at him—storm-gray eyes searching his—trying to find the lie, the manipulation, the monster I’d sworn to destroy.
But all I saw was truth.
“Now,” I whispered, “I’m free.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. Just reached for me—slowly, gently—and pulled me into his arms. His body shielded mine, his breath warm against my neck. The bond hummed—warm, deep, alive—not with magic, not with fate, but with something deeper.
Love.
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 did it,” he said. “We broke the chain.”
“And found something else,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just kissed me—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 then—
The door burst open.
Not with violence.
With urgency.
Riven stood in the threshold, his amber eyes wild, his breath ragged. Behind him—guards. Fae. Vampires. All armed. All furious.
“Tide,” he gasped. “They’re coming.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“The Northern Pack,” he said. “They’ve declared war. They say you’ve betrayed us. That you’ve chosen him over your own kind.”
I froze.
Not from fear.
From the way the bond flared—hot, then cold, then hot again.
From the way Kael’s hand found mine—cool, deliberate, a silent claim.
“We have to go,” I said, turning to him. “We have to stop this.”
“It’s a trap,” he said. “They want us to run. To fight. To give them proof of treason.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then they’ll burn the city,” Riven said. “And then they’ll come for you.”
I looked at Kael.
He didn’t flinch. Just met my gaze—steady, unyielding.
And then—
He nodded.
“We go,” he said. “But we go on our terms.”
And as the first light of dawn broke through the drapes, painting the room in gold and shadow, I knew—
The mission had changed.
The enemy was gone.
But the world was still burning.
And I was the only one who could put out the fire.