The silence after Ravel’s erasure was worse than any battle cry.
Not because of the emptiness where he’d stood—where the fissure had split the battlements, where fire had raged, where blood had soaked into ancient stone. Not because of the way the sky had sealed itself, the silver light retracting like a breath drawn back into the lungs of the world. Not even because of the warriors—Seelie and Unseelie alike—who had simply vanished, as if they’d never existed, their oaths unmade, their magic undone.
No.
The silence was worse because of what it meant.
The Storm had spoken.
And I had answered.
My legs gave out before I could stop them. I dropped to my knees on the blood-slick stone, my blades clattering beside me, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The sigil beneath my collarbone—still glowing faintly white—burned like a brand, not with pain, but with *recognition.* As if my body finally knew what my mind had denied for ten years.
I wasn’t just a witch.
I wasn’t just a warrior.
I wasn’t just a queen.
I was Stormborn.
And the Storm didn’t just live in me.
It was me.
“Parker.” Kael was at my side in an instant, his hands on my arms, his gold-flecked eyes wide with something I’d never seen before—fear. Not for himself. For me. “You’re fading.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” His voice cracked. “Your magic—your life—it’s draining. You can’t—”
“I can.” I pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart beneath my palm. “I had to. For you. For us. For the truth.”
“You don’t get to die for me,” he growled, lifting me into his arms, his body pressing me close, his fangs grazing my neck—not to claim, not to mark—but to promise. “Not after everything. Not after we just—”
“We didn’t just anything,” I whispered, my fingers tangling in his hair. “We chose. And I chose this. I chose you.”
He didn’t answer.
Just carried me through the Spire like a man possessed, his boots echoing against the stone, his arms unyielding, his breath hot on my skin. The corridors blurred—torchlight flickering, shadows retreating, the scent of old magic and fresh blood clinging to the air. I could hear whispers, but I didn’t listen. Didn’t care.
“She’s dying.”
“The Storm took too much.”
“He’ll lose her.”
Let them speak.
Let them fear.
Let them know.
I had burned my way through hell to get here. I had fought for my mother’s truth. I had bled for Kael. I had faced Ravel, the Fae, the Council—and I had won.
And if this was the price—
Then I’d pay it.
He didn’t take me to the healing chambers. Not the one where I’d stitched his wounds, where we’d kissed in the dark, where Dain had interrupted us. He carried me higher—through winding staircases, past ward-etched doors, into the northern tower, to the private suite where we’d made love for the first time.
Where I’d whispered, “I’m yours.”
Where he’d whispered, “And I’m yours. Forever.”
He laid me on the bed, the black silk cool against my skin, then knelt beside me, his hand pressing to the sigil beneath my collarbone. It flared—white light bleeding through the fabric—then dimmed, like a dying star.
“Don’t you dare die,” he said, voice raw. “Not now. Not after we just found each other.”
“I’m not dying,” I lied, my fingers lifting to his face, tracing the scar above his brow. “I’m just… tired.”
“Liar.” His thumb brushed my lower lip, smearing blood. “You’re pale. Your pulse is thready. Your magic is gone. And the bond—” He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath unsteady. “—is fading.”
And then—
—Dain was there.
He stood in the doorway, his wolf-gold eyes wide, his scent sharp with alarm. Lira followed, her red eyes reflecting the dim light, her wrists still bound in silver cord. She didn’t speak. Just watched me, studied me, like she was trying to understand how I’d walked into a death trap for a man I’d once sworn to destroy.
Maybe she never would.
Maybe I wouldn’t either.
“Maeve’s restorative,” Dain said, stepping forward, a small vial in his hand. “It’s the only thing that’s ever worked on blood magic exhaustion.”
Kael took it, uncorked it, and pressed it to my lips. “Drink.”
I shook my head. “No. It won’t work. Not this time. The Storm didn’t take my magic. It took a piece of my life.”
“Then we give you more,” Kael said, his voice deadly calm. “We share blood. We bind the bond. We—”
“No.” I reached for his hand, my fingers weak, trembling. “You don’t get to lose yourself for me. Not like this. Not after everything.”
“You don’t get to die,” he growled. “Not while I’m still breathing.”
“Then let me go on my own terms.” I cupped his face, forcing him to look at me. “Let me say what I need to say. Let me—”
“Don’t.” His voice broke. “Don’t you dare say goodbye.”
“I’m not saying goodbye.” I leaned into him, my lips brushing his. “I’m saying thank you. For seeing me. For fighting with me. For loving me. For not letting me burn alone.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into a fierce embrace, his mouth on my neck, his fangs grazing my skin, not to claim, not to mark—but to hold on.
And then—
—the door burst open.
Lira stood in the archway, her red eyes wide, her voice trembling. “They’re coming.”
“Who?” Dain snapped.
“The Council.” She stepped inside, her gaze locking onto Kael. “They saw the light. They felt the magic. They know something happened. And they’re afraid. They’re saying the bond is unstable. That it needs to be severed—by force.”
Kael didn’t move. Just held me tighter, his breath hot on my skin. “Let them come.”
“You can’t fight them,” I whispered. “Not like this. Not while I’m—”
“Then you don’t get to die.” He pulled back, his gold-flecked eyes blazing. “You fight. You live. You rule.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”
And then—
—the bond screamed.
Not from me.
From him.
Kael surged to his feet, his fangs elongating, his claws tearing free of their sheaths, his body radiating power—raw, unfiltered, desperate. He didn’t look at Dain. Didn’t acknowledge Lira. Just turned to the door, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
“Leave.”
Dain hesitated. “Kael—”
“Leave.”
They didn’t argue. Just backed out, closing the door behind them.
And then—
—he was on the bed.
Not roughly. Not possessively.
But carefully.
His hands framed my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones, his breath hot on my lips. “I’m not letting you die,” he said, voice raw. “Not while I’m still breathing. Not while the bond still pulses. Not while I still love you.”
My breath caught.
He’d never said it before. Not like this. Not with his voice breaking, his eyes burning, his body trembling.
“Kael—”
“No.” He kissed me—slow, deep, endless. “You don’t get to die. Not while I can save you.”
And then—
—he bit me.
Not on the neck. Not on the wrist.
On the mark.
His fangs sank into the sigil beneath my collarbone, not to claim, not to feed—but to bind.
The world exploded.
Not with pain.
Not with fire.
With connection.
His blood flooded into me—thick, hot, ancient—carrying with it his power, his pain, his life. I could feel it—the wolf, the vampire, the man—pouring into me, harmonizing with my own, filling the hollow places, sealing the cracks. The bond roared, gold and crimson and white spiraling around us, binding us, claiming us.
But it wasn’t enough.
I could feel it—the Storm, the truth, the crown—still slipping away. My breath grew shallower. My pulse weaker. My vision dimmed.
“Kael,” I gasped. “Stop. You’re killing yourself.”
“Then I die with you.” He didn’t pull away. Just pressed his forehead to mine, his fangs still buried in my mark, his blood still flowing. “But I’m not letting you go first.”
And then—
—I felt it.
The bond—fractured, flickering, but alive.
And I knew.
There was only one way to save him.
To save us.
I reached for my dagger—still strapped to my thigh—and sliced my palm in one clean motion. Blood welled, thick and dark, and I pressed it to his chest, right over his own mark.
“No,” he growled, trying to pull away. “You’re too weak.”
“Then let me be weak.” I pressed harder, my blood mixing with his, my magic—what little I had left—flooding into him. “You don’t get to die for me. Not while I’m still breathing.”
The bond ignited.
Not from his blood.
Not from my magic.
From love.
Gold and crimson and white spiraled around us, binding us, claiming us. The sigils on our skin flared—twin marks, twin souls, twin power. The wards hummed. The Spire groaned. The Storm—
It answered.
And then—
—I collapsed.
Not into darkness.
Not into silence.
But into light.
A single beam of silver pierced the room, illuminating the bed, our entwined bodies, the blood on our skin. And in that light, I saw it—everything.
My mother, not burning—but rising. From the pyre, wreathed in stormfire, her arms outstretched, her voice thundering: “I pass the throne to you. Not in ceremony. Not in blood ritual. But in truth. In fire. In memory. You are Stormborn, Parker. And the bond—it is not a curse. It is a key. A weapon. A shield. Kael is not your enemy. He is your protector. Your equal. Your fated.”
And then—
—the light faded.
The room was silent.
And Kael—
He was holding me, his body trembling, his breath hot on my neck, his blood on my lips.
“Don’t you dare die,” he sobbed, his arms tightening around me. “Not while I’m still breathing. Not while I still love you.”
My hand trembled.
But I lifted it, my fingers brushing his cheek, smearing blood.
“Wouldn’t dream of it… love.”
And then—
—the bond pulsed.
Not with warning.
Not with pain.
With power.
The war wasn’t over.
But I wasn’t fighting it alone anymore.
And that was enough.