The first thing I felt when I woke was the cold.
Not the damp chill of stone, nor the biting draft of a forgotten dungeon—though I was in one. No, it was deeper. A marrow-deep freeze, like my blood had turned to ice, like my heart had stopped beating. I lay curled on the floor, arms wrapped around my ribs, breath shallow, my fingers numb where they clutched the torn fabric of my tunic. The mating mark—still glowing faintly beneath my collar—throbbed in time with my pulse, not with power, but with *pain*. A dull, aching pull, like something vital had been ripped from my chest and left a hollow where my soul used to be.
The bond was broken.
Not severed. Not destroyed.
But *suppressed*.
The chamber was warded—etched in silver runes along the walls, the ceiling, even the floor—designed to block magic, to sever psychic links, to isolate. No windows. No doors. No sound. Just silence, thick and suffocating, broken only by the ragged rhythm of my breath. The Black Sigil still pulsed beneath my ribs, a second heartbeat, but it was muffled, like it was screaming behind glass. I could feel it—my power, my legacy, my *truth*—but I couldn’t reach it.
And Kaelen—
He was gone.
Not in body. Not in distance.
But in *connection*.
I’d felt him last night—just before the visions started. A whisper in the dark, a flicker of warmth in the cold. “I’m here.” But then the wards flared, the magic surged, and he was ripped from me like a limb torn from bone. I’d screamed his name until my voice cracked, until my throat bled, until the visions took over—Kaelen dying, Kaelen hating me, Kaelen walking away, leaving me in the dark, alone, *forgotten*.
And I—
I had believed them.
For a moment, in the deepest part of the night, I’d believed I was alone.
But then—
I remembered.
Not his voice.
Not his touch.
But *me*.
I was Eclipse.
Not because of him.
Not because of the bond.
Because I was *born* to be.
And no ward, no lie, no *Cassian* could take that from me.
—
The door opened with a groan of rusted hinges.
I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just kept my eyes closed, my breathing slow, my body still. I’d learned long ago that stillness was power. That silence was strength. That sometimes, the best way to survive was to let them think you were broken.
Footsteps.
Soft. Measured. Not a guard. Not a servant.
Then—
A voice.
Smooth. Oily. Familiar.
“Awake, little half-blood?”
I opened my eyes.
Cassian stood in the doorway, backlit by the dim torchlight of the corridor. He wore black velvet, the D’Vire crest etched into a silver brooch at his throat—*Kaelen’s* crest, stolen, twisted. His hair was silver-white, his eyes ancient, dead, but his smile—oh, his smile was *alive*. Sharp. Hungry. Victorious.
“You look unwell,” he said, stepping inside. “The bond-sickness. A cruel thing, isn’t it? Like drowning in air. Like starving while full. Like loving someone who will never love you back.”
I didn’t answer. Just sat up slowly, my back against the wall, my hands still curled into fists. The mating mark pulsed, faint but insistent, a whisper of warmth in the cold.
“Ah,” he said, tilting his head. “Still clinging to that, are you? The unbitten mark. The fated bond. The *lie*.” He crouched in front of me, close enough that I could smell the venom on his breath. “Let me tell you a secret, Indigo. There is no fate. No magic. No bond. There is only power. And the weak are crushed beneath it.”
“Then why am I still breathing?” I asked, voice rough.
He smiled. “Because you’re not weak. Not yet. But you will be. Once I’m done with you.”
“And what do you want?”
“The Black Sigil,” he said simply. “And your death. In that order.”
I laughed—low, broken, but real. “You can’t have either.”
“Oh, but I already do.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a vial—crystal, sealed with black wax. Inside, a swirling darkness pulsed, thick and sentient. My blood. My magic. My *essence*, siphoned while I slept. “A little insurance,” he said, holding it up to the light. “In case you decide to be… difficult.”
My stomach dropped.
“You’re a coward,” I said, voice steady. “You steal from sleeping women. You hide behind wards and lies. You frame men for crimes you committed. You’re not a leader. You’re a *parasite*.”
His smile didn’t falter. Just grew colder. “And you’re a *half-blood abomination*,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper. “A mistake. A stain on the purity of our kind. And I will erase you.”
“You already tried,” I said. “And failed.”
“No,” he said, standing. “I *framed* Kaelen. I made him watch as your mother died. I made him believe he failed her. And now—” He stepped closer, his boot pressing against my ankle. “—I’ll make him watch as *you* die. And this time, he won’t be able to save you.”
My breath caught.
“You killed her,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “And I enjoyed it.”
And then—
He dropped the vial into his pocket, turned, and walked out.
The door slammed shut.
The wards flared.
And I was alone again.
—
I didn’t cry.
Didn’t scream.
Just sat there, back against the wall, heart pounding, breath shallow, the mating mark burning like a brand.
He’d killed her.
My mother.
Not Kaelen.
Not some tragic accident.
Not fate.
Cassian.
The man who had smiled at her funeral. Who had stood beside Kaelen in silence. Who had whispered, “She was weak. She deserved it.”
And now—
Now he had my blood.
My magic.
And he was going to use it to destroy everything.
But I—
I wasn’t going to let him.
Not again.
Not ever.
—
Time passed.
I didn’t know how much. Hours? Days? The torchlight outside never changed. The silence never broke. The cold never lifted. But I didn’t care. Just sat there, eyes closed, breath slow, reaching—*reaching*—into the well of my magic, past the wards, past the pain, past the emptiness.
I wasn’t just Eclipse.
I was *time*.
And time could not be caged.
I focused on the Black Sigil—still pulsing beneath my ribs, still *mine*—and let its power rise, not in a surge, not in a blast, but in a *whisper*. A thread of indigo light, thin as a hair, slipped through the wards, not breaking them, not challenging them, but *sliding* beneath, around, through.
And then—
I felt it.
Not Kaelen.
Not the bond.
But *Mira*.
Her magic—faint, flickering, but *awake*—brushed against mine, like a moth to flame. She was close. Watching. Waiting. And she was *afraid*.
I didn’t call to her.
Didn’t warn her.
Just sent a pulse—soft, silent, *safe*—and let it fade.
And then—
I waited.
—
The next time the door opened, it wasn’t Cassian.
It was a guard—tall, broad, face hidden behind a silver mask. He didn’t speak. Just stepped inside, grabbed my arm, and yanked me to my feet. I didn’t resist. Just let him drag me down the corridor, through the winding stone halls, past flickering torches and ancient tapestries, until we reached the interrogation chamber.
It was small. Cold. A single chair in the center, bound in silver chains. The walls were lined with mirrors—enchanted, glamoured, designed to reflect not your face, but your *fears*.
They strapped me in—wrists, ankles, chest—tight enough to hurt, loose enough to let me breathe. The mating mark flared, not with power, but with defiance. And then—
Cassian entered.
He didn’t sit. Just stood in front of me, hands clasped behind his back, a smile playing on his lips. “Comfortable?”
“Charming,” I said, voice dry. “You really know how to treat a guest.”
He chuckled. “I do. But we’re past pleasantries now, aren’t we?” He stepped closer, his boot tapping against the chain on my ankle. “You know the truth. About your mother. About Kaelen. About *me*.”
“I know you’re a murderer,” I said. “And a liar. And a coward.”
“And yet,” he said, unfazed, “you’re the one in chains.”
“And you’re the one who’s afraid,” I said. “Afraid of the truth. Afraid of *me*.”
His smile faltered.
Then—
He backhanded me.
Not hard. Not with magic.
But with *contempt*.
My head snapped to the side, my lip splitting, blood pooling in my mouth. I didn’t wipe it. Just turned back, slow, deliberate, and smiled. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
His eyes narrowed. “No. But this is.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out the vial—my blood, my magic—and held it up to the light. “This,” he said, “is going to be the end of you. And the beginning of *me*.”
“You can’t use it,” I said. “Not without me. Not without the Sigil.”
“Oh, but I can,” he said. “Because I don’t need *you*. I just need your blood. Your name. Your *death*.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And when I drain this into the ritual circle, when I speak your name in the dark, when I *kill* you in front of the Council—” He smiled. “—they’ll believe you were the traitor. That you tried to steal the Black Sigil. That you seduced Kaelen. That you *broke* the bond.”
My breath caught.
“And Kaelen?” I asked.
“Will watch,” he said. “And suffer. And die knowing he loved a *fraud*.”
And then—
He turned.
Walked to the door.
“Enjoy your last moments,” he said, hand on the latch. “They’ll be over soon.”
And then—
He was gone.
The door locked.
The wards flared.
And I was alone again.
But not for long.
—
I didn’t wait.
Didn’t plan.
Just *acted*.
I focused on the Black Sigil—still pulsing, still *mine*—and let the power rise, not in a surge, not in a blast, but in a *pull*. A single thread of indigo light, thin as a hair, slipped through the wards, through the chains, through the stone, and *tugged*.
And then—
The mirror cracked.
Not shattered. Not exploded.
But *split*—a single hairline fracture, running from top to bottom, like a vein of lightning.
And through it—
I saw her.
Mira.
Her face pressed to the glass, eyes wide, hands trembling. She wasn’t supposed to be there. No one was. But she’d come. She’d *found* me.
I didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
Just let the power rise—slow, steady, *silent*—and sent a pulse through the crack, not in words, not in sound, but in *feeling*.
Run.
Warn him.
Now.
And then—
The mirror shattered.
Not from the inside.
From the outside.
A silver dagger—familiar, *Kaelen’s* dagger—slammed through the glass, followed by a hand, then an arm, then a body.
Silas.
He dropped to the floor, breathing hard, half-fae eyes sharp with urgency. “We don’t have much time,” he said, already moving to the chains. “Cassian’s preparing the ritual. He’s going to frame you at dawn.”
“Mira?” I asked, voice tight.
“She’s safe,” he said, breaking the first chain with a twist of his wrist. “She brought me here. Told me what he has.”
“My blood,” I said.
“We’ll get it back,” he said, snapping the second chain. “But you need to move. Now.”
I stood—shaky, weak, but *alive*—and grabbed the dagger from the floor. The mating mark flared, not with pain, but with *purpose*.
“Then let’s go,” I said.
“Not that way,” he said, nodding to the door. “Guards. Wards. We go through the walls.”
He pressed a hand to the stone, muttered a half-fae incantation, and the wall *melted*—not crumbled, not exploded, but *opened*, like a wound in reality.
“After you,” he said.
I didn’t hesitate.
Just stepped through.
And into the dark.
—
We moved fast—through hidden passages, past sleeping guards, through enchanted doors that opened at Silas’s touch. The Black Sigil pulsed beneath my ribs, guiding me, pulling me toward the ritual chamber. I could feel it—the vial, my blood, my magic—like a second heartbeat, screaming in the dark.
And then—
We found it.
The chamber was circular, the floor etched in silver runes, the air thick with the scent of venom and old magic. In the center, a ritual circle—black stone, blood-red sigils—and on a pedestal, the vial, glowing faintly, *mine*.
Cassian wasn’t there.
But his presence was.
“We take it and go,” Silas said, voice low. “No heroics. No revenge. Just survival.”
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “He killed my mother. He framed Kaelen. He tried to destroy me.” I turned, my eyes locking onto his. “And now, he’s going to *pay*.”
He studied me—those sharp, observant eyes searching, *testing*—then nodded. “Then make it count.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped into the circle.
And let the Black Sigil *sing*.
The power rose—not in a surge, not in a blast, but in a *roar*. Indigo light erupted from my skin, from my eyes, from my *soul*, shattering the wards, cracking the stone, *rewriting* the sigils. The vial exploded—glass and blood and magic—splattering across the floor, but I didn’t flinch. Just reached down, pressed my palm to the mess, and *pulled*.
My blood answered.
My magic surged.
And then—
I *stopped time*.
Not for a second.
Not for a breath.
But for *eternity*.
The chamber froze—torchlight mid-flicker, dust suspended in air, the echo of my scream hanging in the silence. And in that stillness—
I saw it.
The truth.
Not just Cassian’s lies.
Not just his crimes.
But *everything*.
My mother’s death. Kaelen’s grief. The bond. The mark. The *fate*.
And I—
I wasn’t afraid.
Because I was Eclipse.
And I would not be denied.
—
Time snapped back.
The chamber erupted—magic, fire, *truth*—and then—
The door burst open.
Cassian stood in the doorway, fangs bared, eyes wide with fury.
“You don’t get to win,” he snarled.
I turned, slow, deliberate, the Black Sigil pulsing beneath my ribs, the mating mark glowing like a brand.
“I already did,” I said.
And then—
I stepped forward.
And the war began.