The summons came with the rising sun.
A Dominion courier, cloaked in black and silver, arrived at the northern gate with a scroll sealed in crimson wax—the mark of the Supernatural Council. Not a request. Not a suggestion. A decree. An emergency session. Cassian had called the full assembly, and we were required to attend. *Together.*
I stood at the window of my chamber, the morning light fractured by the enchanted glass, casting jagged shadows across the obsidian floor. The mating mark still pulsed beneath my collar, warm and insistent, a constant reminder of the night before—the almost-kiss, the almost-touch, the way Kaelen had knelt in the rain and sworn he’d never take without asking. I hadn’t believed him. Not at first. But when he’d pulled me close, his forehead pressed to mine, his voice rough with something like reverence—“I’d rather be damned than live without you”—I’d felt it.
The shift.
Not just in him.
In *me*.
I wasn’t the woman who had walked into the Midnight Accord ten days ago, dagger in hand, vengeance in my heart. I wasn’t even the woman who had kissed him in the Ward Room, who had straddled him to stop time, who had saved him from poison with nothing but her magic and her will.
I was something else now.
Something awake.
And I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“You’re quiet,” Mira said, stepping into the chamber with a fresh blouse—black, high-collared, designed to hide the mark. She didn’t push. Didn’t prod. Just handed me the fabric and waited.
“I’m thinking,” I said, stripping off my sleep clothes, the scent of rain and old magic still clinging to my skin.
“About him?”
“About everything.” I pulled on the blouse, let her lace the corset tight. “Cassian. Lira. The Council. The bond. The way he looked at me when he said he’d rather be damned than live without me.”
She paused, fingers still on the laces. “And what did you feel?”
I didn’t answer right away. Just stared at my reflection—pale, dark circles under my eyes, lips still slightly swollen from his kiss. I looked… different. Not weaker. Not softer. But fuller. Like something inside me had cracked open, letting in light I hadn’t known existed.
“I felt… seen,” I said finally. “Not as the Eclipse Heir. Not as a weapon. Not as a pawn. But as me. And it terrified me.”
She nodded, not judging, not questioning. Just *knowing*. “Then stop running from it.”
—
Kaelen was waiting in the main chamber.
He stood by the hearth, backlit by the low fire, his silhouette sharp against the flickering shadows. He’d changed into formal attire—black velvet tunic, silver clasp at the throat, the D’Vire crest etched into the metal. His hair was slicked back, his fangs just visible when he turned his head. He looked like a king. Like a predator. Like the man who had carried me, kissed me, *claimed* me.
And for the first time, I didn’t look away.
He turned as I entered, those molten gold eyes locking onto mine. He didn’t speak. Just held out a hand.
I hesitated.
Then took it.
The bond *sang*—soft, warm, *alive*—as our fingers laced. His skin was cold, but the connection between us was anything but. It pulsed, a second heartbeat, his rhythm, *ours*.
“You’re tense,” he said, voice low.
“I’m not afraid,” I said.
“You should be.” He stepped closer, his free hand brushing the back of my neck, just above the collar. “Cassian won’t stop. He’ll use everything—your blood, your magic, *this*.” His thumb pressed lightly against the fabric, right over the mating mark. “He’ll call you an imposter. A seductress. A half-blood abomination who bewitched the High Sovereign to steal his power.”
My jaw clenched. “Let him try.”
“He will,” Kaelen said. “And he’ll do it in front of everyone.”
“Then we’ll fight back,” I said. “Together.”
He studied me—those golden eyes searching, *testing*—then nodded. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not hard. Not angry. But *soft*—a press of lips, a whisper of want, a promise. My hands fisted in his tunic, pulling him closer. The bond flared, warm and alive, a pulse of heat that made me gasp.
And then—
A knock.
Sharp. Insistent.
The door.
We broke apart.
“Kaelen,” came Silas’s voice, muffled. “The carriage is ready.”
He exhaled, long and slow, then pressed his forehead to mine. “Later,” he murmured. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” I said, smiling.
He took my hand.
And we walked out.
—
The Council Hall was already half-full when we arrived.
Chandeliers of frozen moonlight hung above, casting long shadows across the black marble. The twelve thrones loomed in a semicircle, each marked with the sigil of its species. Vampires in velvet and silver. Werewolves in furs and bone. Fae in illusion-woven silk. Witches in ink-stained linen.
And at the center—Cassian.
He sat in his throne, back straight, hands resting on the armrests, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those ancient, dead eyes—flicked to me the moment I entered. To the collar of my blouse. To the faint, indigo glow beneath the fabric.
He knew.
And he was *smiling*.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just kept walking, my boots clicking once, twice, three times on the stone. Kaelen’s hand was still in mine, his grip firm, his presence a storm at my side.
We took our seats—side by side, per Council decree. The bond pulsed between us, low and insistent, feeding on the tension, on the hatred, on the sheer *need* that had been building since the moment our hands touched.
“Representatives,” Cassian began, voice oily, smooth, “we gather under emergency decree. Last night, the High Sovereign was attacked—”
A gasp rippled through the chamber.
“—and defended by the so-called Eclipse Heir.” He turned, those dead eyes locking onto me. “A miraculous recovery. Too miraculous. A bonding ritual gone wrong. A mating mark that appeared without bite, without consent, *without proof*.”
My pulse spiked.
“You dare—” Kaelen began, voice a whip.
“I dare,” Cassian cut in. “Because the Council has a right to know. Is this woman truly Eclipse? Or is she a half-blood fraud, using forbidden magic to bind the High Sovereign to her will?”
The chamber erupted.
Voices. Shouts. Demands for proof.
And then—
He raised a hand.
“There is a way,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “A test. A *public* test. The Eclipse Heir must prove her power. Not in secret. Not in shadows. But here. Now. In front of us all.”
My stomach dropped.
“What kind of test?” I asked, voice steady.
“A simple one,” he said, smiling. “A battle. Against one of our own. And when the fight begins—” He paused. “—you will stop time. Just for a second. Just long enough for us to see.”
I stared at him.
It wasn’t just a test.
It was a trap.
A public spectacle. A humiliation. A chance to expose me, to discredit me, to make me fail in front of the entire Council.
And if I refused—
I was weak. A fraud. A coward.
But if I succeeded—
I was a threat. A target. A woman who had to be destroyed.
I looked at Kaelen.
He didn’t speak. Just nodded. Once. A silent promise. A silent strength.
I turned back to Cassian.
“Very well,” I said, standing. “I accept.”
—
The arena was prepared in minutes.
A vast, circular space beneath the Council Hall, the ceiling enchanted to mimic the night sky. The full moon hung low, its light silver and cold, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Around the edges, the Council members stood, watching, waiting, *judging*.
Cassian stepped forward, his hand raised. “The challenger,” he announced, “is none other than Lysara of the Summer Court.”
My breath caught.
Lysara stepped into the ring—tall, elegant, her illusion shifting from gold to green to the color of poisoned honey. Her eyes locked onto mine, sharp with amusement. She wasn’t just a diplomat. She was a warrior. A spellweaver. A woman who had once tried to seduce Kaelen into an alliance with the Fae.
And now—
She was my opponent.
“No weapons,” Cassian said. “No magic beyond elemental. And no bloodshed—unless the Council permits it.”
I nodded, stripping off my jacket, rolling up my sleeves. My magic simmered beneath my skin, the Mark of the Eclipse flaring faintly. I wasn’t afraid. Not of her. Not of the test.
But I was ready.
“Begin,” Cassian said.
Lysara moved first—a flick of her wrist, and a whip of fire lashed toward me. I dodged, rolling to the side, my own magic flaring. I summoned a shield of shadow, thick and impenetrable, just as a second flame struck. The heat was intense, but I held. Then I countered—a pulse of indigo energy, sharp and precise, aimed at her legs. She jumped, twisted in midair, and sent a wave of wind crashing into me.
I staggered, but didn’t fall.
The bond pulsed—low, insistent, feeding on the fight, on the danger, on the sheer *need* that had been building since the moment our hands touched.
She came at me again—faster this time, her illusion shifting, her form blurring. I couldn’t track her. Couldn’t predict. And then—
A flicker.
From the corner of the arena.
A spell. Subtle. Hidden. But I *felt* it—magic, laced with fae illusion, designed to disorient, to destabilize, to *break*.
“Cassian,” I hissed.
“Focus,” Kaelen’s voice cut through the noise, calm, controlled. “Stay with me. Focus on the bond. On *me*.”
I did.
Reached deep—into the well of my magic, into the blood of my mother, into the bond that tied me to him. I felt it—Eclipse power. Not just witch. Not just vampire. *Both*. A fusion. A fire. A storm.
And then—
Lysara struck.
Not with fire. Not with wind.
But with *illusion*.
One second, I was in the arena.
The next—
I was back in the ritual chamber, two centuries ago, watching my mother fall. The blade in her back. Kaelen bound. Cassian’s laughter. The world burning.
“No,” I whispered, stumbling back. “Not real. Not real.”
But it felt real. Too real. The scent of blood. The sound of her scream. The way Kaelen had *screamed*.
And then—
His voice.
“Indigo.”
Not from the illusion.
From *him*.
“Come back to me.”
I closed my eyes.
Reached deep—into the well of my magic, into the blood of my mother, into the bond that tied me to him. I felt it—Eclipse power. Not just witch. Not just vampire. *Both*. A fusion. A fire. A storm.
And then—
I *pulled*.
Not with force.
Not with rage.
But with *need*.
For truth.
For justice.
For him.
The air stilled.
Not a breath. Not a whisper. Not a heartbeat.
Time—
Stopped.
I opened my eyes.
The arena was frozen. Cassian’s sneer, caught mid-sneer. Lysara’s illusion, half-shifted. The werewolf Alpha, fangs bared, caught in a snarl. Even the torches—frozen mid-flicker, casting long, still shadows across the marble.
And Kaelen—
He was moving.
Not fast. Not breaking the stillness. But *aware*. His eyes—golden, molten—locked onto mine. His hand reached for mine, slow, deliberate, and took it.
“You did it,” he said, voice the only sound in the world.
“I had to,” I said. “For us.”
He didn’t answer. Just pulled me close, his cold fire wrapping around me like a storm.
And then—
Time snapped back.
The chamber erupted—voices, shouts, demands for explanation. Cassian’s face was a mask of fury. Lysara hissed, her illusion shattering completely. The werewolf Alpha dropped to one knee, bowing his head.
“She is Eclipse,” he growled. “The magic has spoken.”
“Then the bond is real,” Kaelen said, stepping forward, his voice cutting through the noise. “And she is mine.”
Cassian stood. “This changes nothing. The mating mark—”
And then—
It happened.
Not by design. Not by magic.
But by *chaos*.
Lysara, still disoriented from the illusion, lunged—her hand shooting out, fingers aimed at my throat. I reacted on instinct, my magic flaring, a pulse of indigo energy slamming into her chest.
She flew back—hard—hitting the wall with a sickening crack.
Silence.
Then—
A gasp.
“She used lethal force!” a vampire representative shouted.
“She defended herself,” Kaelen snapped. “And the Council permitted bloodshed.”
“But she *killed* her,” another voice said.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, heart pounding, breath shallow, the mark burning on my skin like a brand.
And then—
Lysara stirred.
Slowly. Painfully. One hand clutching her ribs, the other reaching for her throat. She wasn’t dead. Not even close. But she was hurt. Badly.
“I didn’t mean to,” I said, voice steady. “I was defending myself.”
“Then you failed,” Cassian said, stepping forward. “A true Eclipse Heir would have stopped time *before* the attack. Would have disarmed her without violence. But you—” He turned to the Council. “—you saw it. She’s unstable. Dangerous. A threat to us all.”
The chamber erupted.
Voices. Shouts. Demands for exile. For execution.
And then—
The Black Sigil pulsed.
Not in Kaelen’s vault.
But in *me*.
I gasped, staggering back. The Mark of the Eclipse flared—bright, hot, *alive*—and then—
Images.
Not memory. Not magic.
Truth.
I saw it—the Black Sigil, glowing in Kaelen’s vault, pulsing with ancient power. And then—
It *flew*.
Through the walls. Through the stone. Through the air.
And into my chest.
I screamed—low, guttural, *mine*—as the artifact fused with my magic, my blood, my soul. The Mark of the Eclipse flared—brighter, hotter, *alive*—and then—
Time stopped.
Again.
But this time—
I didn’t just see.
I *knew*.
I was Eclipse.
Not by blood.
Not by magic.
By *fate*.
And I would not be denied.