The moment the Black Sigil fused with her, the world *changed*.
Not shattered. Not exploded. But *shifted*—like the turning of a key in an ancient lock, like the first breath after centuries of silence. The air in the arena crackled, thick with raw magic, the ley lines beneath the city surging in response. The torches flickered, not with flame, but with indigo light—her light. The very stones beneath our feet hummed, resonating with a power older than the Dominion, older than the Council, older than *me*.
And Indigo—
She stood at the center of it all, her arms at her sides, her head tilted back, her eyes closed. Her skin glowed faintly, the Mark of the Eclipse pulsing like a heartbeat, her hair lifting as if caught in an unseen wind. The mating mark on her neck—*my* mark, though I hadn’t placed it with fang or ritual—burned with indigo fire, a sigil of serpent and crescent moon now etched into her flesh like it had always belonged there.
She wasn’t just Eclipse.
She was Eclipse.
The Council erupted—voices, shouts, demands for explanation. Cassian’s face was a mask of fury, his hands clenched into fists, his ancient eyes wide with something I hadn’t seen in centuries: fear. Lysara groaned, still on the ground, clutching her ribs, her illusion shattered completely. The werewolf Alpha dropped to one knee, not in defiance, but in reverence. Even the witch representative—cracked obsidian eyes now wide—leaned forward, breathless.
But I didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just watched her.
The woman I had come to destroy. The woman who had come to destroy me. The woman who had carried my blood, kissed my mouth, straddled my body, saved my life.
And now—
She was more.
And I—
I was hers.
She opened her eyes.
And the world stopped.
Not time. Not magic.
Me.
Her gaze—dark, endless, knowing—locked onto mine. And in that moment, I didn’t see the vengeful witch, the infiltrator, the woman who had called me a murderer. I saw the queen. The heir. The storm that would tear down the old world and build a new one from its ashes.
And I—
I was not afraid.
I was proud.
“Kaelen,” she said, voice low, resonant, not just with her own power, but with the echo of centuries—of coven mothers, of bloodline queens, of women who had bent time to their will.
I stepped forward.
Not because I was commanded.
But because I needed to.
The bond between us—once a tether, once a curse, once a war—now sang, not with need, not with desire, but with recognition. As if it, too, had been waiting for this. For her. For the moment she became what she was always meant to be.
I stopped in front of her, close enough to feel the heat of her skin, the pulse of her magic, the rhythm of her breath. The mating mark still glowed, but it wasn’t just a claim anymore.
It was a promise.
“You feel it,” I said, voice rough.
She nodded. “It’s not just power. It’s memory. Legacy. Truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
She didn’t answer. Just reached up, her fingers brushing the mating mark on her neck. A whisper of contact, but it sent a jolt through me—sharp, electric, ours. The bond pulsed, a second heartbeat, her rhythm, mine.
“The Black Sigil knew me,” she said. “Not because of blood. Not because of magic. But because I was always meant to have it.”
“And now you do,” I said.
“And now I do,” she repeated, voice stronger. “And I won’t let anyone take it.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just held her gaze, those dark eyes searching, testing. “Not even me?”
She stilled.
Then—
She smiled. Slow. Dangerous. Mine. “Especially not you.”
The chamber erupted again—voices, demands, Cassian shouting over the noise, calling for her to be seized, for the artifact to be removed, for the bond to be severed. But I didn’t care. Didn’t listen. Just kept my eyes on her.
“Let them try,” I said, stepping closer, my voice low, rough, for her ears only. “Let them come. Let them fight. I’ll burn this city to ash before I let them touch you.”
Her breath hitched.
“You don’t get to decide what I do,” she whispered.
“No,” I agreed. “But the bond does. And so does your magic.”
She didn’t answer. Just reached up, her fingers brushing my jaw, cold and soft. And then—
She turned.
Faced the Council.
“The Black Sigil is mine,” she said, voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “By blood. By magic. By fate. And if any of you try to take it—” She raised a hand, and the air around her shimmered, indigo light rippling outward. “—I’ll stop time. And I won’t start it again.”
Silence.
Thick. Heavy. Charged.
Even Cassian didn’t speak. Just stared at her, those ancient eyes wide with something I hadn’t seen in centuries: doubt.
And then—
The werewolf Alpha stood. “She is Eclipse,” he growled. “The magic has spoken.”
One by one, the others followed—bowing their heads, stepping back, acknowledging her. Even Lysara, still on the ground, looked at her with something like respect.
But Cassian—
He just smiled.
Slow. Dangerous. Victorious.
Because he knew.
He hadn’t won.
But he had started something.
A war. A fire. A reckoning that would consume us all.
And Indigo—
She was at the center of it.
She turned to me, her hand finding mine. “We should go,” she said, voice low.
I nodded.
And we walked out.
Not as fugitives.
Not as enemies.
But as equals.
As bondmates.
As the beginning of something new.
—
The ride back to the residence was silent—thick with unspoken words, with the weight of what had just happened, with the way the Black Sigil now pulsed inside her, a second heart beating in time with her own. I sat across from her, back straight, hands folded in my lap, eyes closed. I looked composed. Controlled. Like the High Sovereign who had just silenced a Council with a single declaration. But I could feel her—the bond humming between us, low and insistent, not with desire, but with something deeper. Need. Not for me. For the truth.
“You’re thinking,” she said, voice quiet, eyes on the flicker of moonlight on my face.
“I’m always thinking,” I replied. “It’s what keeps me alive.”
She didn’t answer. Just watched me, those dark eyes searching, testing. And then—
“The vault,” she said. “I need to see it.”
I opened my eyes. “You don’t have to. The Sigil is yours. It’s—”
“I need to see it,” she cut in, voice sharp. “I need to know what you’ve been hiding.”
I stilled.
Then—
“It’s not hidden,” I said. “It’s protected.”
“Protected from who?”
“From him,” I said. “From Cassian. From anyone who would destroy it. Or use it.”
She studied me—those dark eyes sharp, unblinking. “And you never thought to tell me?”
“I was waiting,” I said. “For you to be ready.”
“And now?”
“Now,” I said, leaning forward, the carriage swaying slightly with the movement, “you’re not just ready. You’re claiming.”
She didn’t flinch. Just held my gaze, like she was daring me to challenge her. To deny us. But I couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after the way she’d stood in front of them all and said, “I’ll stop time. And I won’t start it again.”
And then—
The carriage stopped.
We were back.
—
The residence was quiet—too quiet. No guards. No Silas. No Mira. Just the low fire in the hearth, casting long shadows across the obsidian floor. I didn’t let go of her hand as we stepped inside. Just led her through the corridor, past the silver case, past the double doors of my private wing, to the hidden passage behind the hearth.
“You know about this,” she said, not a question.
“You do too,” I replied. “Your magic does.”
She didn’t answer. Just watched as I pressed the correct sequence into the stone, the ancient mechanism grinding as the wall slid open. Cold air rushed out, thick with the scent of old magic, of blood, of time.
The vault.
Carved into the bedrock beneath the residence, lined with silver runes, warded against intrusion. A single pedestal stood in the center, empty now. But I could still feel it—the echo of the Black Sigil, the weight of its absence, the silence where its power had once hummed.
“You kept it here,” she said, stepping inside, her boots clicking once on the stone. “All this time.”
“I kept it safe,” I said. “From him. From the Council. From *you*—when you still wanted to destroy me.”
She turned, those dark eyes locking onto mine. “And now?”
“Now,” I said, stepping closer, “it’s where it belongs.”
She didn’t move. Just stood there, heart pounding, breath shallow, the Black Sigil pulsing inside her like a second heartbeat. And then—
She reached out.
Not to the pedestal.
But to me.
Her fingers brushed my wrist, just above the pulse. A whisper of contact, but it sent a jolt through me—sharp, electric, ours. The bond pulsed, warm and alive, a second heartbeat, her rhythm, mine.
“You didn’t steal it,” she said, voice low.
“No,” I said. “I protected it.”
“And my mother’s journal?”
“Sealed,” I said. “To protect you. To keep you from knowing the truth before you were ready.”
She stilled.
Then—
She stepped closer, until we were inches apart. Her breath was warm against my skin, her magic simmering beneath her skin like a storm about to break. The mating mark still glowed, a pulse of indigo light that matched the rhythm of her breath.
“And what truth is that?” she asked, voice rough.
“That I didn’t kill her,” I said. “That I tried to save her. That I’ve spent two centuries waiting for you to come back and finish what she started.”
Her breath caught.
And then—
She kissed me.
Not soft. Not gentle.
But hard—her mouth crashing into mine, her fangs grazing my bottom lip, just enough to draw a bead of blood. I tried to pull away, but she held me, relentless, her tongue sliding against mine, claiming, consuming.
And then—
The bond erupted.
Fire ripped through me, not pain, but pleasure—white-hot, blinding, inescapable. My knees buckled. My hands fisted in her tunic. My body pressed into hers, desperate, needy.
She gasped, low and deep, and I lifted her, one hand under her thigh, the other at her back, carrying her to the wall. My body pinned hers, her legs tightening around me, her hips grinding against mine, seeking friction, seeking more.
“Kaelen—” she gasped, breaking the kiss.
“Say it,” I demanded, voice rough. “Say you want me.”
“I—”
And then—
She bit me.
Not playfully. Not teasingly.
But hard—her teeth sinking into my bottom lip, drawing blood, claiming.
I froze.
Then—
I growled.
Low. Deep. Mine.
And then—
I kissed her again.
Harder.
Deeper.
Ours.
And in that moment—
The bond didn’t flare.
It sang.
And when we finally broke apart, breathless, swollen-lipped, blood on our mouths, she whispered—
“You’re not mine.”
I pulled back, just slightly, my eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.
Then—
I smirked. Slow. Dangerous. “You’re already marked.”
And I knew—
She was right.
Not by fang.
Not by ritual.
But by something deeper.
Something older.
Something I couldn’t run from.
Because I wasn’t just her bondmate.
I was her king.
And I would never be free.
And I didn’t want to be.
—
We didn’t speak on the way back to her chamber.
Just walked, hands still laced, the bond humming between us, warm and alive. The mating mark still glowed, but the heat was different now. Not possession. Not claim.
Promise.
Finally, I stopped outside her door, turned to her, cupped her face, my touch cold, gentle. “You should rest,” I said, voice low. “After everything.”
“I’m not tired,” she said. “I’m awake.”
I smiled—just once, faint, dangerous. “Then stay with me. Not in my bed. Not yet. But in my chambers. Where I can protect you. Where I can feel you.”
“You don’t get to decide what I do,” she whispered.
“No,” I agreed. “But the bond does.”
And then—
A knock.
Sharp. Insistent.
The door.
We broke apart.
“Kaelen,” came Silas’s voice, muffled. “It’s urgent.”
I exhaled, long and slow, then pressed my forehead to hers. “Later,” I murmured. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” she said, smiling.
I turned, opened the door just enough to speak. I couldn’t hear the exchange—just low murmurs, Silas’s neutral tone, my clipped responses. Then the door closed.
I turned back to her.
“Cassian’s calling another emergency session,” I said, voice tight. “He knows the Sigil is with you. He knows the bond is stronger than ever. And he’s going to try to break it.”
Her stomach dropped.
“How?”
“By exposing us,” I said. “By revealing the mating mark. By declaring you an imposter, a half-blood abomination who seduced the High Sovereign to steal his power.”
She stared at me. “And if he does?”
“Then we fight,” I said, stepping closer. “Together. As equals. As bondmates. As—” I hesitated. “As lovers.”
Her breath caught.
“And if I’m not ready for that?”
“Then I’ll wait,” I said, voice rough. “Until you are. Until you trust me. Until you love me.”
The word—love—hit me like a blade.
Not just a possibility.
A promise.
And I—
I wasn’t ready.
But I was close.
So close.
So I did the only thing I could.
I reached for her hand.
And laced my fingers with his.
The bond didn’t flare.
It sang.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to destroy him.
I wanted to keep him.
And I would.
No matter the cost.