The northern woods were on fire.
Not with flame. Not with torch or kindling.
With rage.
As we crossed the threshold of the Fae High Court and stepped into the predawn chill, the scent hit me first—charred pine, scorched earth, the iron tang of blood. Then the sound—howls, sharp and desperate, echoing through the trees like war cries. Then the light—flickering orange through the canopy, shadows dancing like feral things, the sky streaked with smoke.
And beneath it all—the bond.
Not flaring. Not screaming.
Pulsing.
Steady. Deep. Alive.
Kael—no, Elion—was at my side, his presence a wall against the chaos. He hadn’t spoken since Riven’s warning. Hadn’t questioned. Hadn’t hesitated. Just moved—shadow and silence, a predator in the dark. His hand found mine, cool and deliberate, and the bond flared—warm, deep, a silent claim.
“They’re not just angry,” I said, scanning the tree line. “They’re hunted.”
“By who?” he asked, voice low.
“By me,” Riven said, stepping forward. His amber eyes were wild, his breath ragged, his wolf close to the surface. “They think I’ve betrayed them. That I’ve chosen you over the pack. Over everything we are.”
My stomach twisted.
Not from guilt.
From the truth in his voice.
Because he had.
And so had I.
“They don’t understand,” I said. “They don’t see what we’ve done. What we’ve broken. What we’ve freed.”
“They don’t care,” Riven snapped. “To them, you’re not a storm-witch. You’re not a queen. You’re not even human. You’re his.” He gestured to Kael. “And that makes you a traitor.”
Kael didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, his body a shield between us and the coming storm. “Then we make them understand,” he said. “Or we stop them.”
“And if they won’t listen?” I asked.
“Then we fight,” he said, voice calm. “But not to kill. To protect.”
I looked at him—obsidian eyes unreadable, yet filled with something I couldn’t name. Something that made my breath catch.
And I knew—
He wasn’t just fighting for me.
He was fighting with me.
We moved through the woods in silence, the bond humming between us like a war drum. The trees grew thicker, the air heavier, the scent of blood stronger. And then—
The clearing.
Not large. Not sacred.
But holy.
The Northern Pack stood in formation—wolves in human form, their eyes glowing gold, their bodies coiled like springs. At the front—Kaelen, Riven’s second, his face hard, his voice sharp. Behind him—dozens more, all armed, all furious, all afraid.
And in the center—
A pyre.
Not of wood.
Of clothes.
Riven’s coat. My boots. A tunic I’d worn during training. All drenched in blood—wolf blood—and set ablaze, the flames licking at the sky like a curse.
“They’re burning our past,” Riven whispered, voice breaking. “Our loyalty. Our bond.”
“And declaring war,” Kael said.
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “They’re grieving.”
Kaelen turned, his eyes locking onto mine. “Tide of the Storm-Witch Line,” he intoned, voice sharp as steel. “You stand accused of treason. Of abandoning your kind. Of choosing a vampire over your pack. How do you plead?”
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward—alone, unguarded, my hands open at my sides.
“I don’t plead,” I said, voice steady. “I am.”
“You are one of us,” he snapped. “Or you are nothing.”
“I am not nothing,” I said. “I am storm. I am fire. I am the daughter of Elara, who died so I could be free. And I am alive.”
“And him?” Kaelen demanded, gesturing to Kael. “What is he to you?”
My breath caught.
Not from fear.
From the way the bond flared—warm, deep, alive.
From the way my body responded—heat pooling low in my belly, my pulse thundering in my ears.
“He is not my master,” I said. “He is not my captor. He is not my enemy.”
“Then what is he?”
I turned.
Looked at Kael.
And for the first time, I didn’t hesitate.
“He is mine,” I said. “And I am his. Not by magic. Not by fate. By choice.”
The clearing erupted.
“Lies!”
“She’s bewitched!”
“She’s not one of us anymore!”
Kaelen stepped forward, his fangs bared, his claws extended. “Then prove it,” he snarled. “Fight him. Beat him. Show us you’re still a wolf at heart.”
My stomach dropped.
Not from fear.
From the way Kael’s hand found mine—cool, deliberate, a silent claim.
“No,” I said. “I won’t fight him. Not to prove myself. Not to earn your approval. I love him. And that is not a weakness. It is my strength.”
“Then you are lost to us,” Kaelen said. “And you will be treated as an enemy.”
“And if I stop you?” I asked, stepping forward. “If I show you what we’ve done? What we’ve broken? What we’ve freed?”
“Then you are still one of us,” he said. “But you must prove it.”
“How?”
“The Trial of Flame,” he said. “Walk through the pyre. Let the fire judge you. If you emerge unharmed, you are pure. If you burn, you are false.”
My breath caught.
Not from fear.
From the way the bond flared—hot, then cold, then hot again.
From the way Kael’s voice dropped—low, rough, intimate.
“Don’t,” he said. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes,” I said, stepping forward. “I do.”
I moved toward the pyre—slow, deliberate, my storm-gray eyes locked on the flames. The heat hit me first—searing, relentless. Then the smoke—thick, choking, smelling of old magic and something darker—fear. The pack watched in silence, their breaths shallow, their eyes sharp.
And then—
I stepped into the fire.
Not with magic. Not with protection.
With trust.
The flames licked at my skin, my clothes, my hair. Pain—sharp, blinding—ripped through me. I screamed—not from fear, but from the sheer, unbearable truth of it. The fire didn’t burn me because I was strong.
It didn’t burn me because I was chosen.
It didn’t burn me because I was magic.
It didn’t burn me because I was loved.
The bond flared—warm, deep, alive—and the flames parted, not around me, but through me, as if they recognized the truth in my blood, in my soul, in my heart.
And then—
I was through.
Unharmed.
Unbroken.
Whole.
The clearing was silent.
Not from shock.
From awe.
Kaelen stepped forward, his eyes wide, his breath ragged. “You… you walked through fire.”
“And lived,” I said, voice steady. “Because I am not just a witch. Not just a storm. Not just a weapon. I am free. And I am loved.”
He didn’t answer.
Just knelt.
Not in submission.
In recognition.
And then—
The pack followed.
One by one, they knelt—wolves, warriors, hunters—until the entire clearing was bowed, not to me, not to Kael, but to the truth.
That love was not weakness.
That choice was not betrayal.
That freedom was not given.
It was claimed.
I turned to Kael.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. Just stepped forward, his hand lifting, his thumb brushing my cheek. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive.
“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 did it,” he said. “We broke the chain.”
“And found something else,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his arms, his body shielding 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 then—
The ground shook.
Not from the storm.
Not from magic.
From footsteps.
Heavy. Deliberate. Unmistakable.
We turned.
The tree line parted.
And from the shadows—
A wolf.
Not in human form.
In truth.
Massive. Silver-furred. Eyes glowing gold. It stepped forward—slow, deliberate—and then—
Shifted.
Riven stood before us, naked, breathless, his body trembling, his eyes locked on mine.
And then—
He knelt.
Not in submission.
In farewell.
“You’ve chosen your path,” he said, voice breaking. “And I’ve chosen mine.”
My chest ached.
Not from anger.
From the truth in his voice.
From the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing he’d ever loved.
“And what is it?” I asked.
“To lead,” he said. “To protect. To be wild.”
“And me?”
He didn’t flinch. Just reached into his coat—still at his feet—and pulled out the silver locket. “You carry it now,” he said, pressing it into my hand. “Because you’re not lost. You’re not broken. You’re free.”
I took it—my fingers trembling as I traced the Northern runes. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just turned and walked away.
And I didn’t call him back.
Because I knew—
Some goodbyes don’t need words.
Back in the suite, the door clicked shut behind us, and I didn’t wait.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, turning to Kael. “You didn’t have to stand there. You could’ve fought them. You could’ve killed them.”
“And lost you?” he asked, stepping closer. “No. You’re not just my bond. You’re my truth.”
“And if I’d burned?”
“Then I’d have died in the flames with you,” he said. “But I knew you wouldn’t.”
“And if I’d wanted to fight them?”
“Then I’d have stopped you,” he said. “Because you’re not a killer. Not like that. Not when it’s not necessary.”
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.
“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 did it,” he said. “We broke the chain.”
“And found something else,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his arms, his body shielding 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 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.