The fire still burned when I arrived at the ruins of the Hybrid Tribunal, its flames licking the night sky like a living crown. Smoke curled into the stars, carrying the scent of molten iron and scorched parchment—old laws, old lies, turned to ash. The ground trembled beneath my boots, not from destruction, but from something deeper. Something new.
Hope.
Or maybe it was just war.
Either way, the world had changed.
I stood at the edge of the archway, my coat dusted with frost, my senses stretched thin. The air hummed with residual magic—Opal’s fire, Kaelen’s frostfire, the raw, unfiltered energy of a hundred hybrids who had just been freed from centuries of silence. They stood in a loose circle around the dais, their eyes wide, their breaths shallow, their collars cracked, their chains broken. Some wept. Some roared. Some simply stared at the flames, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
And at the center—Opal.
She stood with her back to the fire, her silhouette sharp against the blaze, her hair wild, her hands still glowing with embers. No crown. No throne. No army. Just her. Just fire. Just truth. And yet—she looked like a queen.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blood.
Because she’d earned it.
Kaelen was beside her, his coat swirling behind him like a storm, his silver eyes burning. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t speak. Just stood there—watching, guarding, claiming. Frost clung to his shoulders, his breath a pale mist in the cold. He looked… different. Softer. Not weak. Never weak. But open. Like the man he’d buried beneath duty and control had finally clawed his way to the surface.
And he was smiling.
Not much. Just a flicker at the corner of his lips. But I’d known him for decades. I’d fought beside him in the Blood Wars. I’d seen him break men with a glance. And I’d never seen him smile like that.
Not until her.
I stepped forward, my boots silent on ash, my hand resting near my dagger. The crowd parted as I approached, their eyes flicking to my collar—Black Thorn, Beta, loyal. They didn’t fear me. Not yet. But they didn’t trust me either. I was Fae-Werewolf. Pureblood. Enforcer. To them, I was part of the system that had tried to erase them.
And maybe I was.
Until now.
“She did it,” I said, stopping beside Kaelen.
He didn’t look at me. Just kept his eyes on Opal. “I knew she would.”
“You didn’t stop her.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
I nodded. That was answer enough.
Opal turned then, her dark eyes locking onto mine. No fear. No hesitation. Just assessment. Like she was weighing me, measuring me, deciding if I was worth her time.
“Silas,” she said, voice low. “You’re late.”
“I had a meeting.”
“With who?”
“The Unifiers.”
Her breath stilled.
So did Kaelen’s.
The Unifiers—Twilight Fae diplomats, seers, peacekeepers. Neutral. Respected. Feared. They didn’t take sides. They didn’t fight. They didn’t rule. They observed. And when they spoke, even Mordrek listened.
And now, they wanted me.
“They know about the Tribunal,” I said, voice low. “They know about the fire. They know about the hybrids.” I paused. “And they want to talk.”
“To you?” Kaelen asked, finally turning. “Not to me? Not to her?”
“To me,” I said. “Because I’m not you. Because I’m not her. Because I’m the one who’s seen it all—your control, her fire, the way the world bends when you’re together.” I met his gaze. “They want a witness. Not a king. Not a queen. A soldier.”
Opal stepped closer, her boots crunching on ash. “And what did you tell them?”
“I told them I’d bring you.”
“You don’t speak for me.”
“No,” I said. “But I know what you’ll say.”
She didn’t flinch. Just studied me—long, hard, searching. “And what’s that?”
“You’ll say yes.” I stepped closer, my voice dropping. “Because you’re not just burning buildings, Opal. You’re building something new. And you can’t do it alone.”
She didn’t answer.
Just turned to Kaelen.
And he nodded.
“Go,” he said. “Talk to them. Let them see the truth. Let them see you.”
She didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. Just stepped forward, pressing her palm to the sigil on her collarbone. The bond flared—hot, electric, alive—a pulse of heat that matched her heartbeat. “Then we go together.”
“No,” I said. “You stay. This is my meeting. My test. If they trust me, they’ll trust you.”
She didn’t like it. I could see it in the way her fingers twitched, in the way her fire flickered at her fingertips. But she didn’t argue. Just stepped back, her spine straight, her chin high. “Then don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t.”
The Unifiers met in the Veil Garden—a hidden enclave beneath Vienna, where moonlight filtered through silver leaves and the air hummed with ancient magic. No guards. No weapons. No lies. Just truth. Just silence. Just power.
I arrived alone.
No coat. No dagger. No scent of frost or fire. Just me. Just my blood. Just my word.
They were already there—three of them. Cloaked in gray, their faces hidden, their eyes glowing faintly with inherited power. They sat in a circle of white stone, their hands resting on a pool of still water. No words. No greetings. Just stillness.
And then—
One of them spoke.
“You are Silas of the Black Thorn Pack. Beta to Kaelen Vire. Fae-Werewolf hybrid. Loyal. Observant. Quiet.”
“I am.”
“And you come for the Unifiers.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because the world is changing,” I said, stepping forward. “And you don’t want to be on the wrong side of history.”
They didn’t react. Just sat there, their eyes glowing, their hands still on the water.
And then—
The pool rippled.
Images formed—Opal burning the Tribunal. Kaelen standing beside her. The hybrids kneeling. The fire rising. The old world falling.
“She is fire,” one of them said. “He is frost. Together, they are storm.”
“And you?” another asked. “What are you?”
“I’m the one who sees,” I said. “The one who remembers. The one who knows that power without truth is just another kind of prison.”
“And what truth do you bring?”
“That Opal didn’t burn the Tribunal for vengeance. She burned it for justice. That Kaelen didn’t protect her out of duty. He protected her because he loves her. That the bond between them isn’t magic. It’s choice.” I stepped closer, my voice low. “And that if you don’t stand with them, you’ll be swept aside when the storm hits.”
The pool stilled.
And then—
They rose.
All three, in unison, their cloaks falling back, revealing faces sharp with age and wisdom. Their eyes—pale, knowing, relentless—locked onto mine.
“We will not fight,” one said.
“We will not rule,” another added.
“But we will speak,” the third finished. “And when we speak, the Concord will listen.”
My breath stilled.
Because that was more than enough.
“Then say it,” I said. “Say her name. Say his. Say what they’ve done. Say what they are.”
They didn’t answer.
Just turned, their cloaks swirling, their steps silent on stone. And then—
One of them stopped.
“There is another,” she said, her voice low. “A human. A journalist. She has been watching. Writing. Asking questions. She knows too much.”
My stomach dropped.
Because I knew who she meant.
Elira Voss.
Dark hair. Sharp eyes. A voice like smoke. She’d been at the gala, asking questions about the bond, about the Tribunal, about Opal. I’d seen her scribbling in a notebook, her pen moving fast, her gaze sharp. And when our eyes had met—just once—something had passed between us. Not attraction. Not yet. But recognition.
Like we were both searching for the same truth.
“What about her?” I asked, voice low.
“She is dangerous,” the Unifier said. “Not to us. To the Concord. To the lies.”
“And you want me to stop her.”
“No.” A slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “We want you to protect her.”
My breath stilled.
Because I understood.
They weren’t just allying with Opal.
They were building a future.
And I was part of it.
I found Elira in a human-Fae club on the edge of Vienna—dim lights, pulsing music, the scent of bloodwine and sweat in the air. She sat at the bar, her notebook open, her pen moving fast, her eyes scanning the room. She didn’t look up as I approached. Just kept writing.
“Silas,” she said, not looking at me. “I was wondering when you’d come.”
“You knew I would.”
“I hoped.” She finally looked up, her dark eyes sharp, assessing. “You’re not here to arrest me.”
“No.” I sat beside her, my voice low. “I’m here to warn you.”
“About what?”
“The Unifiers. They know about your articles. They know you’re close to the truth.”
She didn’t flinch. Just closed her notebook, her fingers tightening around the cover. “And?”
“And they want you to keep writing.”
Her breath stilled.
“Why?”
“Because the world needs to know,” I said. “Not just the Concord. Not just the Packs. The humans. The Awakened. Everyone.”
She studied me—long, hard, searching. “And you? Do you want me to keep writing?”
I didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her—her sharp features, her defiant chin, the way her pen still rested between her fingers like a weapon. She wasn’t afraid. Not of me. Not of the truth. Not of what came next.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
She didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. Just opened her notebook again, her pen moving fast. “Then ask me your questions, Beta. Let’s see how much of the truth you’re ready to hear.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Just leaned in, my voice low, my words careful. “Tell me about the first time you saw her.”
And she did.
Not just about Opal.
But about the fire.
About the bond.
About the war that was coming.
And as she spoke, I realized—
She wasn’t just writing a story.
She was writing a revolution.
And I—
I was ready to fight beside her.
The bond between us wasn’t magic.
It wasn’t fate.
It was choice.
And I chose her.