The dream came again.
Not a vision. Not a memory. Not even magic.
A dream.
I stood in the heart of Shadowveil Court, barefoot on the black stone, the air thick with the scent of iron and frost. The torches were out. The sigils on the floor dimmed. The bond—usually a hum beneath my skin—was silent. Dead. And before me, Kael knelt, his coat torn, his face streaked with blood, his silver eyes wide with betrayal.
“You broke it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “You broke the bond. You broke *us*.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My hands were stained with blood—his blood—and in my grip, the relic dagger pulsed, its sigils burning with dark power. The voice whispered again, low and hungry.
“One life to sever the chain.”
And then—
I raised the blade.
Not toward Vexis.
Not toward the Council.
Toward Kael.
His eyes didn’t close. Just watched me—really watched me—as the dagger descended. And when the steel pierced his heart, the bond didn’t scream.
It shattered.
I woke with a gasp, my body drenched in sweat, my fingers clawing at the silver-threaded sheets. The room was dark, the torches burned low, the air so cold it burned my lungs. Kael was gone.
Not far. I could feel the bond—steady, warm, pulsing like a second heartbeat. But he wasn’t here. And the silence… it wasn’t peaceful. It was waiting.
I sat up, the cool air kissing my bare skin, the mark on my collarbone glowing faintly. My clothes were gone. Torn. Ripped. But my dagger—still strapped to my thigh—was intact, its sigils humming softly. I reached for it, my fingers brushing the hilt, and the voice whispered again, faint but clear.
“The chain is broken. But the master remains.”
I froze.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
Vexis wasn’t dead. He was wounded. Beaten. But not gone. And he would come back. Stronger. Angrier. More dangerous.
And then—
“You’re awake.”
Kael’s voice came from the doorway. He stood there, his coat flaring behind him, the silver runes glowing in the dim light. But he wasn’t alone.
Behind him—
The Council.
Seven figures in flowing robes, their eyes glowing with power, their presence pressing against the air like a storm. The Werewolf Alpha, her golden eyes sharp, her claws flexing. The Fae King, his crown of thorns glinting, his scent of frost and decay filling the room. The Witch Elder, her staff carved with sigils, her gaze unreadable. And the others—each representing their kind, each watching me with suspicion, with calculation, with something darker.
“They’re here,” I said, my voice steady.
“They’ve been waiting,” Kael said, stepping into the room, his boots silent on the stone. “They felt the Oath break. They felt the power shift. And they want answers.”
“Then let them ask.”
He didn’t move. Just stepped closer, his hand rising to my face, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. The bond flared—hot, immediate—and I didn’t pull away. Just leaned into his touch, my breath hitching. His scent—dark wine and winter pine—filled my lungs, grounding me, centering me. Around us, the chamber was still. The servants had vanished. The guards had retreated. Even Silas was gone, likely securing the perimeter, watching for Vexis’s return.
We were alone.
Truly alone.
And for the first time since I’d walked into Shadowveil Court with a dagger and a death wish, I didn’t feel like a prisoner.
I felt like I belonged.
“They’ll try to take you,” he said, his voice low. “They’ll say the bond is unstable. That you’re a threat. That you broke the Concord.”
“And you?” I asked. “What will you say?”
He didn’t answer. Just cupped my face, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. “I’ll say you’re mine. And I’ll say I’m yours. And if they try to take you from me—” his voice dropped, guttural, inhuman—“I’ll burn their Spire to the ground.”
I almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, I reached for him, my fingers tangling in his coat, pulling him down. Our lips met—soft, not angry, not desperate. A promise. A vow. A claim.
And then—
“Enough.”
The Witch Elder stepped forward, her staff striking the stone. “You stand accused, Avalon of the Winter Court, of violating the Concord Accords. Of breaking a Blood Oath without Council sanction. Of unleashing forbidden magic. Of consorting with the enemy.”
I didn’t flinch. Just turned to her, my silver-lavender eyes locking onto hers. “And I say I did it to free my bloodline. To end a curse. To stop a war. And if that makes me a criminal in your eyes—then charge me.”
The room stilled.
Not with fear.
With power.
Kael stepped beside me, his hand brushing mine. “She’s not on trial,” he said. “She’s not your prisoner. She’s my mate. And if you touch her, you touch me.”
“And you,” the Fae King said, his voice like ice. “You allowed this. You let a hybrid claim you. You let her break the Oath. You let her become your weakness.”
“She’s not my weakness,” Kael said, stepping in front of me, his coat flaring behind him. “She’s my strength. My truth. My future. And if you can’t see that—then you don’t belong in this world.”
Silence.
Not empty. Not still.
It pulsed.
And then—
The Werewolf Alpha stepped forward. “We felt the bond. We felt the magic. And we felt the truth.” She turned to me, her golden eyes sharp. “You broke the Oath. But you didn’t start the war. You didn’t betray the Concord. You didn’t serve Vexis.”
“Then what do you want?” I asked.
“Proof,” she said. “That the bond is real. That it’s not just magic. That you’re not using him.”
I didn’t answer.
Just reached for Kael, my hand rising to his chest, pressing against the scar beneath his shirt. The bond flared—hot, undeniable. His breath hitched. His eyes fluttered shut.
“You want proof?” I said, my voice low. “Then feel it.”
And I kissed him.
Not angry. Not desperate.
But true.
Our lips crashed together, tongues clashing, teeth scraping, breath mingling. His hands were everywhere—on my waist, my hips, my thighs—pulling me closer, grinding me against the hard length of him. I arched into him, moaning into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his ink-black hair.
And then—
The bond screamed.
Fire ripped through my veins, magic surging between us, lighting the sigils on the floor until the entire chamber blazed with silver light. I could taste him—dark wine and winter pine and something fierce—and for one reckless second, I forgot why I was here. Forgot the Council. Forgot the truce. Forgot everything but the way his lips felt beneath mine.
And then—
We broke apart.
Breathless. Shaking. Alive.
The Council didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But I could feel it—their doubt. Their fear. Their recognition.
They had felt it.
The truth.
The bond.
Us.
“She’s not a threat,” the Werewolf Alpha said, stepping back. “She’s a weapon. And she’s aimed at the right enemy.”
“Then let her fight,” Kael said. “Let her lead. Let her stand with me.”
“And if Vexis returns?” the Witch Elder asked.
“Then we’ll break him,” I said, stepping forward, my boots clicking against the stone. “Together.”
The Council exchanged glances. Silent. Calculating.
And then—
The Fae King nodded. “Then let it be known. The Oath is broken. The Concord stands. And the hybrid and the prince—” he looked at us, really looked at us—“are no longer enemies.
They are united.”
The room stilled.
Not with silence.
With history.
Kael turned to me, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. “What now?”
I didn’t answer.
Just reached for him, my fingers brushing the edge of his jaw, and pulled him down.
“Now,” I whispered, “we finish it.”
The Council left without ceremony. No farewells. No promises. Just silence as they stepped through the Veil, their presence fading like smoke in moonlight. But their words lingered—united—a quiet revolution whispered into the bones of the world.
Kael and I stood in the aftermath, the torches burning low, the bond humming between us like a second heartbeat. He didn’t speak. Just reached for me, his fingers brushing the mark on my collarbone. The sigils flared—silver, then gold—before settling into a quiet glow.
“They’re afraid,” I said.
“Of what?”
“Of change,” I said. “Of a world they can’t control. Of a bond they can’t break.”
He almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, he pulled me close, tucking me against his chest, his arms tight around me. “Then let them be afraid.”
I closed my eyes, my body heavy with exhaustion, my heart full with something I couldn’t name. The dream still haunted me—the blade, the blood, the silence where the bond should have been. But this—his arms, his breath, the steady pulse of magic between us—this was real.
And for now, that was enough.
When I woke again, the sun had risen, its pale light filtering through the high windows, painting the stone in streaks of silver and gold. Kael was gone, but the bond was strong—warm, alive, pulsing with quiet power. I dressed in silence—fresh leather, steel at my thigh, the relic dagger strapped tight. My reflection in the bone-white vanity was different. Not just stronger. Not just fiercer.
Changed.
The scar on my lip had healed, but the memory remained—the bite, the blood, the bond screaming between us. I touched the mark on my collarbone, and it flared—warm, alive, mine.
And then—
“My lady.”
Silas stood in the doorway, his golden eyes sharp, his stance relaxed but ready. “The Court gathers. They want to see you.”
“Let them wait,” I said, stepping past him, my boots clicking against the stone. “I’m not their prisoner. I’m not their weapon. I’m not their *queen*.”
He didn’t argue. Just fell into step behind me, a shadow at my back. The halls of Shadowveil Court were quiet—too quiet. The vampires watched from the arches, their golden or silver eyes sharp, their presence humming with tension. The werewolves tensed at my scent. The witches whispered as I passed.
They weren’t afraid of me.
They were afraid of what I represented.
Freedom.
Truth.
Love.
And then—
I saw it.
The throne.
Not Kael’s. Not the Council’s.
Mine.
Carved from black stone and silver flame, its back shaped like wings, its arms etched with sigils of power. It stood beside Kael’s, not behind it. Not beneath it.
Equal.
“He had it made last night,” Silas said, his voice low. “After the Council left.”
I didn’t answer. Just stepped forward, my boots cracking against the stone. My fingers brushed the armrest, and the sigils flared—silver, then gold—before settling into a quiet hum.
And then—
Kael appeared.
His coat flared behind him, the silver runes glowing, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris flickering. He didn’t speak. Just stepped beside me, his hand brushing mine.
“You don’t have to sit,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “But I will.”
And I did.
The moment I lowered myself onto the throne, the bond screamed.
Fire ripped through my veins, magic surging from Kael like a storm, the sigils on the floor flaring silver, the air crackling with power. The Court stilled. The torches burned higher. The shadows deepened.
And then—
Silence.
Not empty. Not still.
It breathe.
Kael turned to me, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. “You’re not what I expected,” he said.
“Neither are you,” I whispered.
He almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, he reached for me, his fingers brushing the edge of my jaw, and pulled me down.
“Now,” I said, “we finish it.”
And the moon—
The moon was watching.