The silence after the kiss wasn’t empty—it was full. Not with sound, but with the quiet hum of something ancient settling into place. The bond between Kael and me pulsed like a second heartbeat, warm and steady, no longer a chain of fire and fury but a current of gold threading through my veins. Around us, the Blood Archive stood in ruins, the shattered Oath ledger scattered across the stone like the bones of a dead god, the ritual sigil on the floor still glowing faintly with corrupted magic. But the air had changed. The weight of dread had lifted, replaced by something heavier, deeper—purpose.
We didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. The kiss had said everything.
Kael stepped back, just enough to break contact, but his hand remained on my jaw, his thumb brushing the sharp line of my cheekbone. His silver eyes—always so cold, so guarded—held mine with a rawness that stole my breath. No masks. No control. Just him. The man beneath the prince. The lover beneath the predator.
“You’re not afraid,” he murmured, voice rough, edged with something I’d never heard before. Not dominance. Not command.
Wonder.
“I was,” I admitted, my voice low. “For years. I thought love was a weakness. That trust was a death sentence. That power was the only thing that mattered.”
He didn’t flinch. Just watched me, his gaze steady, his fingers still warm against my skin.
“And now?”
“Now I know the truth,” I said, stepping into him, my palm pressing flat against his chest. His heartbeat—slow, steady, alive—thrummed beneath my touch. “Love isn’t weakness. It’s the only thing strong enough to break a curse.”
He didn’t smile. Not quite. But something in his eyes softened, like ice cracking under spring sun. Then, without a word, he pulled me close, tucking me against his chest, his arms tight around me. His coat flared behind him, the silver runes glowing faintly, 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 weapon.
I felt like I belonged.
“If you’re quite finished declaring your undying devotion in a room full of cursed blood,” Silas said, his voice sharp in the silence, “we have a problem.”
I didn’t pull away. Just tilted my head, my silver-lavender eyes locking onto his golden ones. He stood a few paces back, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But I saw it—the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Amusement. Respect.
“You don’t have to be jealous,” I said, dry. “There’s plenty of devotion to go around.”
He snorted. “I’d rather die than share you, my lady. But I’d also rather not watch you two combust from passion in a room full of cursed blood.”
Kael didn’t react. Just stepped slightly in front of me, his presence like a storm held at bay. “The sigil,” he said, voice cold, commanding. “Analyze it. Now.”
Silas didn’t argue. Just moved forward, crouching beside the circle carved into the stone. His fingers hovered over the blood in the center, not touching, but sensing. His wolf eyes glowed faintly, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of old magic and decay.
“It’s a summoning,” he said after a long moment. “But not for a spirit. Not for a demon. For power.”
“What kind?” I asked, stepping forward, my boots cracking against the stone.
“The kind that feeds on broken oaths,” he said, rising. “This isn’t just a ritual to bring Vexis back. It’s a way to amplify him. To make him stronger than before. To turn the Oath into a weapon.”
My stomach dropped.
Because I understood.
“He’s not just trying to reclaim his throne,” I said, my voice low. “He’s trying to invert the Oath. To make it feed on betrayal instead of loyalty. On pain instead of love. On us.”
Kael turned to me, his eyes sharp. “And if he succeeds?”
“Then every bond in the Veil becomes a weapon,” I said. “Mate marks can be twisted. Blood oaths can be corrupted. Sigils can be turned against their makers. He wouldn’t just rule the vampires—he’d control all of us.”
Silence.
Not empty. Not still.
It pulsed with the weight of what we’d just realized.
“Then we stop him,” Kael said, voice like steel. “Before he completes the ritual.”
“And how do we do that?” Silas asked. “We don’t even know where he is.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, my fingers brushing the edge of the sigil. The moment I touched it—
Fire ripped through my veins.
Not pain.
But vision.
The forest.
Frozen. Silent. Watching.
The trees—black, twisted, their branches like claws reaching for the sky. The ground—cracked, frozen, stained with blood. And in the center—a stone altar, ancient, etched with the same sigil on the floor. A figure kneeling before it, hooded, his hands dripping with blood.
Vexis.
And on the altar—a vial.
Not just any vial.
One made of black glass. Sealed with silver. Filled with something dark, writhing, alive.
My mother’s blood.
I gasped, jerking my hand back, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. My heart pounded like a war drum, my skin slick with sweat despite the cold.
“I know where he is,” I said, voice shaking. “The Winter Court. The ruins of the old altar. He’s using my mother’s blood to fuel the ritual.”
Kael didn’t hesitate. Just reached for me, his hand closing around mine. The bond flared—hot, immediate—but not with fire. With certainty.
“Then we go,” he said. “Now.”
“It’s a trap,” Silas said, stepping forward. “He wants you to come. He’s counting on you to break the Oath again, to give him the power he needs.”
“Then we won’t break it,” I said, turning to him. “We’ll remake it.”
Silas stilled. “What?”
“The Oath was never meant to be a chain,” I said, my voice steady now. “It was meant to be a shield. A protection. My mother tried to break it to free us. But I won’t break it to destroy. I’ll reforge it. Turn it into something new. Something stronger.”
Kael studied me, his silver eyes searching mine. “And if it kills you?”
“Then it kills me,” I said. “But I won’t let him have it. Not my blood. Not my mother’s. Not us.”
He didn’t argue. Just pulled me close, tucking me against his chest, his arms tight around me. His breath was warm against my ear, his voice low, guttural.
“You don’t get to die on me,” he murmured. “Not now. Not ever.”
I didn’t answer.
Just leaned into him, my fingers tangling in the fabric of his coat, my heart pounding against his. And for the first time since I’d walked into Shadowveil Court with a dagger and a death wish, I didn’t feel like I was fighting alone.
I had allies.
I had power.
I had him.
“Then let’s go,” I said, pulling back. “Before he finishes the ritual.”
We left the Blood Archive in silence, the shattered ledger behind us, the sigil on the floor still pulsing with dark magic. 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—
We reached the Veil Gate.
A circular archway carved from black stone, its edges glowing with silver runes. It stood at the heart of the castle, the only way in or out of Shadowveil Court without walking through the mortal world. The air around it shimmered, like heat rising from stone, the scent of ozone and old magic thick in the air.
Kael stepped forward, his hand rising to the arch. The runes flared—silver, then gold—before the Veil cracked open, revealing a swirling vortex of shadow and starlight.
“Ready?” he asked, turning to me.
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, my boots clicking against the stone, my hand rising to the hilt of my dagger. The relic—forged from sacred iron and fae bone—hummed against my thigh, its sigils glowing faintly. It had been made to break the Oath.
But today?
Today, it would be used to reforge it.
“Let’s finish this,” I said.
We stepped through the Veil.
The world twisted—shadow and light, fire and ice, a thousand voices whispering in a language I couldn’t understand. My stomach lurched, my vision blurred, the bond between Kael and me flaring like a beacon in the dark. And then—
We landed.
The forest.
Frozen. Silent. Watching.
The trees—black, twisted, their branches like claws reaching for the sky. The ground—cracked, frozen, stained with blood. And in the center—
The altar.
Just like in my vision.
And kneeling before it—
Vexis.
His back was to us, his hooded cloak pooling around him like spilled ink. His hands were raised, dripping with blood, the vial of my mother’s blood glowing in the center of the sigil carved into the stone. The air was thick with magic—dark, twisted, wrong—and the bond between Kael and me screamed in warning.
“You’re too late,” Vexis said, his voice a whisper, echoing through the trees. “The Oath is already breaking. The chain is already undone.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, my boots cracking against the frozen ground, my dagger in hand. Kael followed, silent, deadly. Silas flanked us, a shadow at my back.
“You don’t get to have it,” I said, my voice low, steady. “Not her blood. Not her legacy. Not us.”
Vexis turned.
His face—pale, gaunt, his eyes black as void—twisted into a smile. “You think you can stop me, half-blood? You think love makes you strong? It makes you weak.”
“Then why are you afraid of it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Just raised his hand.
The ground trembled.
The trees groaned.
And from the shadows—
They came.
Dozens of them.
Dark Council enforcers—vampires, witches, exiled fae—their eyes glowing with corrupted magic, their hands clawed, their mouths twisted with hunger. They surrounded us, silent, relentless, their presence pressing against the air like a storm.
“Kill them,” Vexis whispered. “Bring me her blood.”
They lunged.
Kael moved first—shadow-walking, a blur of black coat and silver runes, his fangs bared, his hands like claws. He tore through them, fast, brutal, efficient. Silas shifted—golden fur, glowing eyes, a snarl ripping from his throat—as he charged into the fray, his wolf form a whirlwind of teeth and fury.
And me?
I didn’t run.
Didn’t hide.
Just stepped forward, my dagger in hand, the sigils on my skin flaring to life. I raised my free hand, blood welling from a cut on my palm, and whispered the words of binding.
“By blood and bone, by moon and mark, I call the Oath not to break—but to remake.”
The ground trembled.
The sky cracked.
And the bond—
The bond screamed.
Fire ripped through my veins, magic surging from me like a storm, lighting the sigils on my skin until they blazed with silver light. The enforcers faltered, their corrupted magic recoiling, their bodies burning where the light touched them.
And then—
I saw it.
The Oath.
Not as a chain.
Not as a curse.
But as a shield—a web of silver light, woven through the Veil, protecting those bound by blood and truth. And at its heart—
Kael.
His mark on my collarbone flared—gold, then white—as I reached for him, my fingers brushing his. The bond surged—hot, fierce, alive—and together, we pulled.
The Oath didn’t break.
It changed.
The sigil on the altar shattered. The vial of my mother’s blood exploded in a burst of silver light. Vexis screamed—raw, guttural, defeated—as the corrupted magic tore through him, his body burning from the inside out.
And then—
Silence.
Not empty. Not still.
It breathes.
Kael turned to me, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. “It’s over,” he said.
I didn’t answer.
Just reached for him, my fingers brushing the edge of his jaw, and pulled him down.
Our lips crashed together—soft, not angry, not desperate. A promise. A vow. A claim.
And then—
The bond sang.
Not with fire.
Not with pain.
But with truth.
And the moon—
The moon was watching.