The northern woods were dying.
Not with the quiet grief of Riven’s farewell. Not with the sacred rage of the pack’s Trial of Flame. This was butchery. The air reeked of burning pine and scorched earth, thick with smoke that stung my eyes and clawed at my lungs. Above, the sky was choked—black with ash, streaked with the unnatural orange glow of fire that shouldn’t be there. Not this time of year. Not in this place. The trees—ancient, towering, their roots deep in Northern magic—were collapsing like wounded giants, their final groans swallowed by the roar of flames and the mechanical whine of human drones.
And beneath it all—the bond.
Not flaring. Not screaming.
Thrashing.
Like a caged thing, like a storm caught in a bottle, like a heart trying to beat outside its chest. It pulsed between me and Kael—warm, deep, alive—but now it was laced with something darker. Something wild. The forest wasn’t just burning. It was bleeding. And the storm within me—my mother’s storm, her magic, her soul—was answering.
Kael—no, Elion—was at my side, his presence a wall against the chaos. He hadn’t spoken since we left the city. 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 burning the trees,” I said, scanning the sky. “They’re targeting the ley lines. The heart of the forest’s magic.”
“They know what they’re doing,” he said, voice low. “This isn’t random. It’s a purge. They want to sever the connection between the land and its guardians. Between the wolves and their power.”
My stomach twisted.
Not from fear.
From the truth in his voice.
Because they were right.
Again.
The Northern Pack drew their strength from the forest. The trees were their ancestors. The wind carried their songs. The earth remembered their names. And now—now they were being erased.
“Then we make them stop,” I said, stepping forward. “Or we burn with it.”
“And if they won’t listen?” he asked.
“Then we fight,” I said, voice steady. “But not to kill. To protect.”
He looked at me—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 smoke and fire in silence, the bond humming between us like a war drum. The drones were high—small, black, shaped like insects, their lenses glowing red as they scanned, recorded, ignited. One by one, they released canisters of incendiary gel—sticky, unquenchable, designed to burn through magic as much as flesh.
I didn’t flinch. Just raised my hand—and the storm answered.
Lightning arced from my fingertips, not in a single bolt, but in a net—a crackling web of violet energy that swept across the sky. The drones shrieked, their circuits frying, their wings melting, their bodies tumbling from the air like dying birds. Not all of them. Not even half. But enough.
“Keep moving,” Kael said, pulling me forward. “They’ll send more.”
And they did.
From the east—a new wave. Faster. Smaller. Armed with sonic disruptors, designed to shatter magical resonance. The first pulse hit me like a hammer to the skull. I staggered, the bond screaming in my veins, my vision blurring. The storm within me recoiled—just for a second.
But only a second.
I roared—not with my voice, but with my magic—and the sky answered.
Thunder cracked. Wind howled. Rain fell—not gentle, not cleansing, but violent—a deluge that doused the flames, shorted the drones, and turned the earth to mud. The sonic pulses faltered. The machines wavered. And then—
I struck.
Not with lightning.
With sound.
I matched their frequency—my storm-born magic attuning to the disruptors—and sent back a pulse of my own. A scream of pure, amplified energy that ripped through the air, shattering every drone in the sky like glass.
And then—
Silence.
Not peaceful. Not still.
Just… empty.
The forest was still burning. The trees still falling. But the machines were gone.
For now.
“They’ll be back,” Kael said, stepping beside me. “With more. With better.”
“Then we’ll be ready,” I said.
But I wasn’t sure I believed it.
We moved deeper into the woods, following the trail of fire and death. The ground was soft, soaked with rain and blood. The scent of burnt fur clung to the air. And then—
We found them.
Not the pack.
Their den.
Or what was left of it.
The sacred clearing—where the Trial of Flame had been held—was unrecognizable. The stones were cracked. The altar was gone. The earth was scorched black, the roots of the ancient oak exposed like broken bones. And in the center—
A body.
Not human.
Not wolf.
Riven.
He lay on his side, his silver hair matted with blood, his clothes torn, his body still. But not dead.
Not yet.
I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands trembling as I touched his face. His skin was cold. His breath shallow. But his heart—his heart was still beating.
“Riven,” I whispered. “Stay with me.”
His eyes fluttered open—amber, dim, but alive. “Tide,” he rasped. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” I said, tears burning my eyes. “What happened?”
“They came at dawn,” he said, voice breaking. “Drones. Soldiers. They didn’t want to fight. They wanted to erase. The forest. The pack. The magic. They set the fire, then trapped us. I tried to lead them out. But they shot me. Left me here to burn.”
“And the others?”
He didn’t answer. Just looked at me—his gaze shifting to Kael, then back to me.
And I knew.
They were gone.
Not dead. Not captured.
Scattered.
And that was worse.
Because a pack without its heart was just a collection of wolves.
And a wolf without its pack was nothing.
“You have to go,” he said, his hand finding mine. “They’ll come back. They’ll finish what they started. You can’t save us. Not like this.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I said, my voice breaking.
“You have to,” he said. “You’re not just a witch. You’re not just a storm. You’re a queen. And queens don’t die in the ashes. They rise from them.”
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 left that mattered.
“And you?” I asked.
“I’ll survive,” he said. “I always do.”
But we both knew he was lying.
Kael stepped forward, his coat brushing the ground, his presence steady. “I can carry him,” he said. “We’ll get him to safety.”
Riven shook his head. “No. You’re not strong enough. Not with the bond draining you. Not with the storm pulling at her. You’ll both die.”
“Then we die together,” I said, lifting him into my arms. The storm answered—lightning crackling over my skin, the wind lifting around us—and I rose.
Not with magic.
With love.
We flew—not fast, not smooth, but steady—through the smoke, over the burning trees, toward the city. Riven was light in my arms, his breath shallow, his body trembling. But he was alive. And as long as he was alive, there was hope.
Back in the suite, the door clicked shut behind us, and I didn’t wait.
“He needs healing,” I said, laying Riven on the bed. “Now.”
Kael didn’t argue. Just moved—vampire speed, precision, control. He cleaned the wounds, sealed the blood, stabilized the magic. But he couldn’t fix the deeper damage. The soul-deep exhaustion. The grief. The loss.
“He’ll live,” Kael said, stepping back. “But he won’t be the same.”
“None of us will,” I said, kneeling beside the bed. “Not after this.”
Riven’s hand found mine—cold, weak, but deliberate. “You have to stop them,” he said. “Not just the drones. Not just the fire. The source. The ones who sent them.”
“And where is that?”
“London,” he said. “The Red Veil’s central command. Beneath the old Underground. That’s where they coordinate. That’s where they plan. That’s where they’ll send the next wave.”
My breath caught.
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, rising. “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 everything,” 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.”
The photograph of my mother and me still lay on the table, the edges curled from the heat of the fire. I picked it up—my fingers trembling as I traced her face, my own child-self, the garden I didn’t remember.
And then—
I made my choice.
“No,” I said, turning to Kael. “We don’t go on our terms.”
“Then whose?”
“Ours,” I said. “The bond’s. The storm’s. Hers.”
He didn’t argue. Just stepped forward, his hand lifting, his thumb brushing my cheek. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive.
“Then let the storm rise,” he said.
I didn’t answer.
Just closed my eyes—and called it.
Not with words.
Not with spells.
With memory.
The bond flared—warm, deep, alive—and suddenly, I wasn’t in the suite anymore.
I was in the dungeon.
My mother knelt on the cold stone, her wrists bound in iron, her storm-gray eyes blazing with defiance. Vexen stood over her, his fangs bared, his hands dripping with blood magic. And Kael—no, Elion—was there too, younger, paler, his eyes wide with horror.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, voice shaking. “She’s not yours. She’s not a weapon. She’s a woman.”
“And you’re a disappointment,” Vexen sneered, backhanding him across the face. “A weakling. A sentimentalist. You’ll never be strong enough to rule.”
Elion didn’t flinch. Just stepped between them, shielding my mother. “Then I’ll die protecting her,” he said. “But I won’t let you break her.”
Vexen laughed—a cold, hollow sound. “You can’t stop me. The bond is already forged. The curse is already sealed. She’s mine. And when the storm wakes, her daughter will be mine too.”
My mother looked at Elion—just once—and whispered, “Elara.”
And then—
The vision shattered.
I gasped, staggering back, my heart hammering. Kael caught me, his arms wrapping around me, his body shielding mine. “You saw it,” he said, voice rough. “You saw what he did. What he tried to do.”
“You protected her,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. “Even then. Even when you were just a boy.”
“I failed,” he said, voice breaking. “I couldn’t save her. But I’ll save you. I swear it.”
The bond flared again—warm, deep, alive—and this time, I didn’t fight it.
I let it pull me in.
Another memory.
My mother, alone in her cell, writing in her journal. Her hands were trembling, her breath shallow, but her eyes—her eyes were alive. She wrote—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.
But only for a moment.
Only long enough for her to whisper one last thing into the void:
“Break the chain. Not the man.”
And then—
The vision ended.
I was back in the suite, my body trembling, my breath ragged. Kael held me, his hands gripping my arms, his obsidian eyes searching mine. “She knew,” he said, voice raw. “She knew the bond could free her. That it could break the curse. That I could save her.”
“And you didn’t know,” I said.
“No,” he said. “But I do now. And now we have a choice.”
“To destroy the bond,” I said. “Or to use it.”
He nodded. “To break the curse. 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 vampire who had whispered her name like a prayer.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a monster.
I saw a weapon.
And I wanted to wield him.
“Then we do it,” I said, stepping forward. “We break the bond. We free her. And we end him.”
He didn’t argue. Just placed his palm over the vellum again, his blood mingling with mine. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive—and this time, I didn’t hesitate.
I poured everything into it—my magic, my grief, my rage, my love. The storm answered, lightning crackling over my skin, the air thick with ozone and power. The grimoire trembled. The sigils flared. And then—
The curse screamed.
Not in rage.
Not in pain.
But in fear.
And then—
The vellum tore.
Not from fire. Not from force.
From within.
The ink bled, the parchment split, the blood seal cracked—and from the center of the contract, a single drop of liquid light rose, hovering in the air like a tear.
My mother’s soul.
Trapped. Broken. But free.
I reached for it—slowly, gently—and as my fingers brushed the light, a whisper filled the air, soft, warm, filled with love:
“Break the chain. Not the man. Love him, Tide. Love him like I couldn’t. Love him like you were meant to.”
Tears streamed down my face.
And then—
The light dissolved.
Not into nothing.
Into me.
Not her body. Not her memories. But her essence. Her magic. Her love. Her storm.
And in that moment—I was whole.
The bond flared—warm, deep, alive—but this time, it wasn’t a chain.
It was a bridge.
Kael looked at me—his eyes wide, his breath ragged. “You feel it,” he said. “The bond—it’s changed.”
“It’s not broken,” I said, voice soft. “It’s free.”
He stepped closer, his hand lifting, his thumb brushing my cheek. “And you?”
“I’m free too,” I whispered. “And I’m not alone.”
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 him.
“You think you’ve won?” Vexen’s voice boomed through the archive, shaking the stone, cracking the walls. “You think a broken contract and a dead woman’s soul can stop me? I am eternal. I am power. I am blood.”
Kael didn’t flinch. Just stepped in front of me, his body a shield. “Then come,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Come and see what your son and your prey can do.”
The air thickened. The shadows deepened. And then—
He appeared.
Not in flesh. Not in blood.
But in shadow.
Vexen Valen—ancient, monstrous, his eyes glowing red, his fangs bared, his hands dripping with blood magic. He wasn’t just a vampire.
He was a curse.
And he was here to claim what he believed was his.
“You don’t get to have her,” he snarled, his gaze locking onto me. “She’s mine. The storm. The blood. The legacy. She’s mine.”
“No,” I said, stepping forward, my magic crackling over my skin. “I’m not yours. I never was. I’m mine. And I’m his.”
He laughed—a cold, hollow sound. “Then prove it.”
And then—
He lunged.