The northern border was a wasteland of ice and shadow, the wind howling through the jagged peaks like a chorus of lost souls.
Snow fell in thick, relentless sheets, burying the old watchtowers, smothering the scent trails, turning the world into a monochrome nightmare. The Iron Fangs had vanished after their failed assault—retreated into the frozen wilds, regrouping, waiting. And now, the Council had sent *us* to secure the breach. Me. And her.
Opal.
She walked beside me, her crimson robes pulled tight against the storm, her silver-blue eyes scanning the terrain with a predator’s focus. The bond hummed between us, steady, insistent, a thread of fire in the cold. Since the moonfire had awakened in her, something had shifted. Not just in her magic. In *us*. The hatred was still there—sharp, bitter—but beneath it, something else pulsed. A current. A connection. A truth I couldn’t ignore.
She’d saved me.
Not just from the poison. Not just from Lyra’s lies.
From myself.
And I didn’t know how to hate her for it.
“The wards are down,” Silas said, his voice cutting through the wind. He stood at the edge of the ridge, his dark coat flapping like a raven’s wing. “The Iron Fangs didn’t just breach them. They *shattered* them. Something powerful did this.”
“Moonfire,” I said, glancing at Opal.
She didn’t look at me. Just knelt in the snow, her fingers brushing the scorched remains of the ward stone. “No,” she murmured. “Not moonfire. Shadow magic. Corrupted. Twisted.”
“Vexis,” I said.
She nodded, standing. “He’s not just manipulating from the shadows. He’s *here*. In the north. Using the Iron Fangs as his blades.”
“Then we find him,” I said. “And we end this.”
“Not yet,” Silas said. “The storm’s closing in. We need shelter. There’s an old outpost—a cave system—about a mile east. Abandoned. But it’s defensible.”
Opal turned to me, her breath forming clouds in the air. “You trust him?”
“With my life,” I said. “And right now, so do you.”
She didn’t argue. Just adjusted her hood and started walking, her boots crunching through the snow. I followed, my senses stretched thin, scanning the white void for movement, for scent, for danger. The bond flared—just a flicker—and I knew she felt it too. The tension. The *need*. Not for each other. Not yet. But for survival.
We reached the cave as the storm reached its peak.
It wasn’t much—just a narrow opening in the rock, half-buried in snow, the entrance marked by a crumbling stone arch etched with faded runes. But it was shelter. And for now, that was enough.
“I’ll take first watch,” Silas said, stepping back. “You two get warm. The storm won’t break for hours.”
“You’re not staying?” Opal asked.
“I’m not needed,” he said, his dark eyes flickering between us. “And you two… you don’t need an audience.”
Before I could respond, he turned and vanished into the storm, his figure swallowed by the snow.
Opal stared after him. “He’s hiding something.”
“They all are,” I said, stepping into the cave. “Even you.”
She didn’t answer. Just followed, her presence filling the space behind me. The cave was deeper than it looked—twisting, branching, the walls lined with ancient carvings of wolves and moons. The air was stale, thick with the scent of old smoke and damp stone. I lit a torch from the satchel at my belt, the flame sputtering to life, casting long shadows on the walls.
“We’ll stay here,” I said, moving deeper. “Until the storm passes.”
“And then?” she asked, her voice low.
“Then we hunt.”
She didn’t argue. Just unfastened her robe, revealing the fitted leather beneath—tight, practical, made for movement. Her scent hit me like a blade—moonlight and witchcraft, laced with something darker. Fear. Need. *Herself*.
I turned away, my jaw tightening. The bond flared, a low, insistent heat beneath my skin. I could feel her—her pulse, her breath, her magic—like it was part of me. And it was. We were bound. Connected. And the longer we stayed close, the harder it was to pretend otherwise.
“You should rest,” I said, my voice rough. “You used a lot of power back there.”
“So did you,” she said, stepping closer. “The poison may be gone, but your body’s still recovering. I can feel it. The bond doesn’t lie.”
I didn’t answer. Just knelt to build a fire, stacking dry wood from the satchel, striking flint against steel. The sparks caught. The flames rose. The warmth spread, but it wasn’t enough. The cold was in my bones. In my blood. In the space between us.
She sat across from me, her knees drawn to her chest, her eyes fixed on the fire. “You don’t trust me.”
“You don’t trust me,” I countered.
“I came here to kill you,” she said. “Of course I don’t trust you.”
“And now?” I asked, turning to face her. “Now that you’ve saved me? Now that you’ve seen your mother’s soul isn’t gone? What then?”
She didn’t look at me. Just stared into the flames. “I don’t know.”
The honesty hit me like a blade.
She didn’t know.
And that was more dangerous than any lie.
“You think I killed her,” I said, my voice low. “But you’re wrong. I didn’t. But I let you believe it. And that makes me guilty.”
She finally looked at me, her eyes sharp. “Why?”
“Because the truth would’ve destroyed the truce,” I said. “And thousands would’ve died. I did what I had to.”
“Just like feeding Lyra?” she shot back. “Just like letting her believe she was yours?”
“That was different,” I said.
“Was it?” she asked, stepping closer. “Or was it just another lie to keep the peace?”
I didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
It *was* a lie.
And I was tired of them.
“I didn’t love her,” I said, my voice rough. “I didn’t want her. But I used her. Just like I used the truth about your mother. Just like I’m using *you* now.”
Her breath caught.
“Then why do you keep me close?” she whispered. “If I’m just another pawn, why not let me go?”
“Because I can’t,” I said, stepping into her. “The bond won’t let me. And neither will *this*.”
I reached up, my fingers brushing the bond mark on her neck.
Fire shot through me.
Her breath hitched. Her body arched toward me, betraying her completely. Her magic surged, rising like a tide, drawn to mine like it had its own will.
“Don’t,” she whispered, but it wasn’t a refusal. It was a plea.
“Then tell me to stop,” I said, my voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want *me*.”
She opened her mouth.
But no words came.
Because she couldn’t say it.
Because she didn’t know if it was true.
And in that moment—
The wind screamed.
The torches flickered.
And the storm collapsed the entrance.
Snow and rock tumbled inward, sealing the cave in an instant, plunging us into near-darkness. Only the fire remained, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air grew colder. Thicker. Trapped.
“Kael—” she started.
“Stay close,” I said, pulling her toward the fire. “The bond keeps us warm. But not like this.”
She didn’t argue. Just stepped into me, her body pressing against mine, her breath warm against my neck. The bond flared, a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My arms wrapped around her, not to control. Not to possess.
But to *protect*.
“You’re shaking,” I said, my voice low.
“I’m not afraid,” she said, but her voice wavered. “I just… I’ve never been trapped like this.”
“Neither have I,” I admitted. “But we’re not trapped. We’re *together*.”
She didn’t answer. Just leaned into me, her head resting against my chest. Her heartbeat synced with mine. Her breath mingled with mine. The bond hummed between us, not as a curse.
But as a *promise*.
“If we die,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “I still hate you.”
“Then we won’t die,” I said, pulling her closer. “Because I’m not letting you go.”
She didn’t pull away.
Just stayed there, pressed against me, her warmth seeping into my skin, her magic curling around mine like a living thing.
And for the first time, I let myself believe it.
That we weren’t just enemies.
That we weren’t just bound by magic.
That we were something *more*.
And that—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
The fire crackled. The storm raged. The world outside was frozen.
But inside?
Inside, we were burning.
And I didn’t know if we’d survive it.
Or if I even wanted to.