The Nocturne Quarter of Paris pulsed with a decadent, dangerous energy—the kind that thrummed beneath cobblestones and curled through alleyways like smoke. Neon signs flickered in blood-red and obsidian black, advertising forbidden pleasures: blood bars where humans sold their veins for coin, glamor dens where fae illusions turned dreams into addiction, and moonlit courtyards where witches whispered curses into wine. The air smelled of wet stone, iron, and something darker—old magic, old sins, secrets buried deep.
We moved through it like shadows—Kael in the lead, his coat pulled tight against the drizzle, his gold eyes scanning every doorway, every face. Silas followed behind, silent, watchful, the Blood Pact key burning in his coat pocket like a brand. And I walked between them, my pulse steady, my hands clenched at my sides, the bond humming beneath my skin like a live wire.
Lyra had fled here. I could feel it—the pull of her presence, faint but unmistakable, like a splinter in my magic. She wasn’t just running. She was *hiding*. And if she had the Codex, if she had the key, then she was close to the one place where Vexis could rewrite the truth.
The Archives of Nocturne.
A black spire rising from the heart of the Quarter, its windows shuttered, its doors sealed with silver sigils. It was a vampire stronghold, a vault of forbidden knowledge, a place where oaths were bought, sold, and broken. And now, it was her sanctuary.
“She’ll have guards,” Kael said, his voice low. “Fledglings loyal to House Nocturne. Maybe even a few of Vexis’s spies.”
“Then we go in quiet,” I said. “No bloodshed unless necessary.”
He turned to me, his eyes sharp. “You don’t want to kill her?”
“I want the truth,” I said. “And I want the Codex. If she dies before we get it, we lose everything.”
He didn’t answer. Just nodded, his jaw tight. Since the cave, since the scrying, something had shifted between us. The hatred was still there—sharp, bitter—but beneath it, something else pulsed. A current. A connection. A truth I couldn’t ignore.
He’d known my mother was alive.
He’d known Maeve had betrayed me.
And he’d kept it from me—to protect me.
I didn’t know if I could forgive him.
But I knew I couldn’t kill him.
Not yet.
We reached the spire as the rain turned to mist, the streets emptying, the city holding its breath. The entrance was a pair of iron doors, etched with the sigil of House Nocturne—a serpent coiled around a moon. Silas stepped forward, the key in his hand.
“This will open it,” he said. “But only once. And it’ll trigger an alarm if we’re not fast.”
“Then we’ll be fast,” I said.
Kael placed a hand on my shoulder—just for a second—warm, heavy, grounding. “Stay behind me. No heroics.”
“I’m not your soldier,” I said, but there was no bite in it.
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re my equal. My match. And if you die, I break.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
Before I could respond, Silas turned the key.
The doors groaned open, revealing a long, narrow corridor lined with torches that flared to life as we stepped inside. The air was cold, thick with the scent of dust and dried blood. The walls were lined with shelves—endless rows of scrolls, tomes, vials of preserved magic. This wasn’t just a library. It was a tomb of secrets.
We moved fast, boots silent on the stone. No voices. No hesitation. Just the quiet rhythm of breath, the hum of the bond, the pulse of magic beneath my skin. I could feel Lyra—closer now. Upstairs. In the restricted wing.
“She’s above us,” I whispered. “Third floor. The east chamber.”
Kael nodded. “Silas, take the west. Cut off her escape. I’ll go in front. Opal—stay close.”
I didn’t argue.
Just followed as he led us up the spiral staircase, the stone slick beneath our boots. The air grew colder, heavier, the magic pressing down like a weight. And then—
A voice.
“I knew you’d come.”
Lyra stood in the doorway of the east chamber, her raven-black hair cascading over one shoulder, her crimson dress hugging every curve. She held the Blood Moon Codex in one hand, the original ritual scroll in the other. Her eyes were sharp, calculating, but beneath them—fear.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, stepping forward. “We know about Vexis. We know about Maeve. We know you’re not acting on your own.”
“And what if I am?” she asked, her voice smooth. “What if I’m doing this to protect the truce? To stop a power that could burn us all?”
“You’re not protecting anyone,” Kael said, stepping in front of me. “You’re delivering Opal to Vexis. You know what he’ll do to her.”
“And what will *you* do?” she shot back. “Keep her bound to you? Let the bond consume her? Watch her die slowly, screaming for release?”
My breath caught.
Because she wasn’t lying.
The scrying had confirmed it—the bond was tied to the moonfire. If it was severed too soon, the power would destroy me. But if I kept it—
“Then we’ll break it together,” I said, stepping around Kael. “On *our* terms. Not yours. Not Vexis’s. Mine.”
She laughed—soft, cruel. “You think you have a choice? You think you’re in control? The bond doesn’t care about your pride, witch. It cares about survival. And right now, it’s killing you.”
“Then I’ll burn with it,” I said, my voice steady. “But I won’t let you use me. I won’t let you turn my pain into his power.”
She didn’t move. Just stared at me, her eyes searching. And then—
She stepped back.
Into the chamber.
“Then come and take it,” she said, holding up the scroll. “If you’re strong enough.”
Kael didn’t hesitate.
He charged.
But so did she.
Her hand shot out, fangs bared, aiming for his throat—but I moved first.
Not with magic.
Not with fire.
With my body.
I stepped into the chamber, my arms spreading, shielding Kael. Her hand slammed into my chest, knocking me back, but I didn’t fall. I *burned*.
Moonfire erupted from my skin—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
It didn’t hurt her. Didn’t burn.
It *revealed*.
For a single, blinding second, the entire chamber was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Lyra’s aura—normally a deep crimson—was laced with something darker. A thread of shadow, twisting through her magic like poison. And beneath it, a sigil. Faint. Hidden. But *there*.
A mark of the Unseelie Court.
She wasn’t just a vampire.
She was a *spy*.
And she wasn’t working for the Council.
She was working for *him*.
Lord Vexis.
The realization hit like a blade.
She’d been sent to destabilize the truce. To turn Kael against me. To make the Council doubt the bond. And now, with my power awakened, she’d tried to provoke me—
And failed.
The light faded. Lyra stumbled back, her eyes wide, her face pale. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t look at Kael.
She looked at the scroll.
And then—
She threw it.
Not at me.
Not at Kael.
At the far wall—where a hidden panel flickered open, revealing a narrow chute that led down into darkness.
“No!” I shouted, lunging.
But I was too late.
The scroll vanished into the chute, the panel slamming shut behind it.
Lyra laughed—soft, broken. “You’ll never find it. And when the Blood Moon rises, she’ll die screaming. And you’ll be the one who let it happen.”
Kael moved like death.
One second, he was beside me.
The next, he had her by the throat, slamming her against the wall, his claws at her neck. “Where is it?” he growled. “Where did it go?”
She didn’t answer. Just smiled, blood trickling from her lip. “You’ll never stop him. He’s already won.”
“Tell me,” he snarled, pressing harder. “Or I’ll rip your heart out.”
“Do it,” she whispered. “But it won’t change anything. The truth is already gone. And so is she.”
I stepped forward, my hand on his arm. “Kael. Stop.”
He didn’t move. Just kept his eyes on her, his chest heaving.
“She’s not worth it,” I said. “The scroll is what matters. And if she knows where it went, we need her alive.”
He hesitated.
Then, slowly, he let her go.
She slid down the wall, gasping, her hand at her throat. “You’re too soft,” she spat. “That’s why you’ll lose.”
“And you’re too broken,” I said, stepping closer. “That’s why you’ve already lost.”
She didn’t answer.
Just looked at me, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t name.
Pity?
Regret?
Or just the hollow stare of a woman who’d sold her soul and realized too late it wasn’t worth the price?
“The chute,” I said, turning to Silas. “Where does it lead?”
He stepped forward, running his fingers along the wall. “There’s a network beneath the Quarter. Old tunnels. Forgotten passages. If the scroll was sent down, it’s headed for the deepest vault—the one that connects to the Blood Pact Archives in the Citadel.”
My breath caught.
“Vexis,” Kael said, his voice low. “He’s trying to rewrite the truce.”
“Then we stop him,” I said. “Before he changes the record. Before he erases the truth.”
“It’s a trap,” Silas said. “He wants you to follow. He wants you to break the bond.”
“And if we don’t?” I demanded. “If we let him win? If we let him bury the truth?”
No one answered.
Because they knew.
If we didn’t go, my mother would remain trapped.
The bond would remain a lie.
And Vexis would rule.
“Then we go,” I said, stepping toward the panel. “Now.”
Kael didn’t stop me.
Just followed.
And as we moved through the hidden tunnels, the bond humming between us, I knew one thing.
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about *truth*.
And I would burn the world to get it.
We reached the vault as the Blood Moon began to wane, its crimson glow fading to a dull silver in the sky. The air was thick with magic, the scent of old parchment and dried blood rising from the stone. And there, in the center of the chamber—
The scroll.
Resting on a pedestal of black stone, its edges singed, its ink smudged but still readable.
And standing over it—
Vexis.
He turned slowly, his ageless face pale, his eyes like shards of ice. He wore a long, flowing robe of deepest black, the sigil of the Unseelie Court embroidered over his heart. His presence filled the room, cold, suffocating, like the air before a storm breaks.
“You’re too late,” he said, his voice like cracked stone. “The truth is already rewritten. The bond is already broken.”
“Then prove it,” I said, stepping forward. “Let me see the scroll.”
He smiled—slow, knowing, venomous. “Come and take it, little witch. If you dare.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I walked forward, my boots silent on the stone, my magic rising like a tide. The bond flared, a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath my feet. Kael followed, his presence a wall at my back. Silas stayed near the entrance, watching, waiting.
I reached the pedestal.
And I looked.
The scroll was real.
The ink was fresh.
And the words—
“The Blood Moon Bond was forged under false pretenses. The union is null. The claim is void. The witch Opal is free.”
My breath caught.
It was a lie.
But it was written in blood.
And blood oaths could not be broken.
“You see?” Vexis said, stepping closer. “It’s over. The bond is broken. You’re free.”
But I wasn’t.
Because the bond still hummed beneath my skin.
Still pulsed in my veins.
Still tied me to Kael.
And then—
I laughed.
Soft. Cold. Dangerous.
“You think this breaks it?” I asked, stepping back. “You think a forged scroll, written in stolen blood, can sever what magic forged?”
His smile faltered.
“The bond is not in ink,” I said, my voice rising. “It’s in *blood*. In *magic*. In *truth*. And you can’t rewrite the truth, Vexis. Not with lies. Not with fear. Not with *this*.”
I raised my hand.
And I burned it.
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips, not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
The scroll ignited, the flames silver and wild, consuming the lie, reducing it to ash. The pedestal cracked. The walls trembled. The air screamed.
And Vexis—
He didn’t move.
Just smiled.
“You think you’ve won?” he said. “You think this changes anything? The bond is still a curse. And you—”
He stepped closer.
“—are still mine.”
I didn’t flinch.
Just stepped forward, my magic rising, my power burning.
“No,” I said. “I belong to no one. Not you. Not Kael. Not even the bond.”
“Then why do you still stand beside him?” he asked, his voice low. “Why does your magic rise when he touches you? Why do you fight for him?”
“Because I *choose* to,” I said. “And that’s something you’ll never understand.”
He didn’t answer.
Just turned—and vanished into the shadows.
Like smoke.
Like a lie.
And then—
The chamber was silent.
The scroll was ash.
The truth was still ours.
Kael stepped forward, his hand finding mine, not in possession, not in control, but in *solidarity*. His gold eyes burned into mine, not with suspicion, but with something raw. Something I couldn’t name.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “You could’ve let it stand. You could’ve been free.”
“And what kind of freedom is built on lies?” I asked, my voice low. “I didn’t come here to be free. I came here to be *true*.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something *his*.
I didn’t fight.
Just buried my face in his coat, my breath trembling, my heart breaking.
Because I’d just done the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do.
I’d chosen him.
Over revenge.
Over hate.
Over everything.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
The bond hummed between us, warm, alive, *real*.
And for the first time, I wondered—
Was I fighting to break it?
Or was I fighting to keep it?
I didn’t know.
But I knew one thing.
The game had changed.
And I was no longer sure who was winning.
Or if I even wanted to.