The original Blood Moon Ritual scroll burned in my hands—not with fire, but with truth.
It wasn’t the parchment that glowed, but the ink. The words. The magic woven into every stroke, every sigil, every drop of blood that had sealed it thirteen years ago. This was no forgery. No lie. This was the *real* contract—the one that had bound species, stabilized packs, and, unknowingly, sparked the bond between Kael and me. And now, it pulsed against my skin like a second heartbeat, its rhythm syncing with the bond, with my moonfire, with the quiet hum of the void still clinging to my bones.
We stood in the scrying chamber of Veilhaven, the moonstone dim, the candles burned to stubs. The air was thick with the scent of old magic and damp stone, the silence heavier than any battle cry. Maeve knelt in the corner, her face pale, her hands trembling. She hadn’t spoken since I’d stepped out of the void. Hadn’t looked at the scroll. Hadn’t looked at me.
She was afraid.
Not of the void.
Not of Vexis.
Of *me*.
Kael’s arms were still locked around me, his body a furnace against my back, his breath warm on my neck. He hadn’t let go. Not since I’d returned. Not even when the scroll flared, not when the bond surged, not when the walls trembled with the aftershock of Vexis’s banishment. He held me like I was something fragile. Something *his*.
And I didn’t fight it.
Because for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I had to.
“It’s real,” I said, my voice low. I turned the scroll in my hands, the light from its surface casting long shadows on the walls. “The ritual wasn’t a lie. My mother didn’t sacrifice herself for nothing. And Kael—”
I looked at him.
He didn’t flinch. Just met my gaze, his golden eyes burning with something raw. Something I couldn’t name.
“You didn’t order her death,” I said. “You *protected* her. You covered it up to keep the truce. To protect *me*.”
His breath caught.
He didn’t speak. Just pulled me closer, his arms tightening, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in anger, not in defense, but in *recognition*. As if my power knew what my mind refused to admit.
That I wasn’t just fighting for my mother.
I was fighting for *us*.
And that thought—
That thought was more dangerous than any blade.
Maeve stirred, her voice barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t have gone into the void.”
“I had to,” I said, turning to her. “You knew the truth. You knew the scroll was gone. You knew Vexis had taken her. And you said *nothing*.”
She flinched. “I was trying to protect you.”
“By lying?” I demanded, stepping toward her. “By letting me believe Kael was the monster? By letting me spend thirteen years hating the man who was *trying to save me*?”
“I was *afraid*,” she said, her voice breaking. “Afraid of what you’d do. Afraid of what you’d become. You’re not just a witch, Opal. You’re not just a fae. You’re *both*. And that makes you a target. A threat. And Vexis—he would have killed you the moment you stepped into the void. I couldn’t lose you too.”
My breath stilled.
She wasn’t lying.
She *believed* it.
And that—
That was worse.
“Then you should’ve trusted me,” I said, my voice low. “You should’ve told me the truth. Not hidden it. Not buried it. Not *betrayed* me.”
She didn’t answer. Just lowered her head, her shoulders trembling.
And I knew—
She wasn’t just afraid for me.
She was afraid *of* me.
Because I wasn’t the girl she’d raised.
I was something else.
Something stronger.
Something that could burn the world to get what I wanted.
Kael stepped beside me, his presence a wall. “We don’t have time for this,” he said, his voice rough. “The Blood Moon rises in three days. Vexis is gone, but the void is still open. If we don’t act now, he’ll find another way in. Another way to break the bond.”
“Then we close it,” I said, turning to the scrying pool. “We go back. We bring her back.”
“You can’t,” Maeve said, standing. “The Fae High Court demanded a memory. A piece of your soul. You’ve already paid the price. You can’t enter the void again.”
“Then I’ll pay another,” I said, stepping toward the pool. “Whatever it takes.”
“No,” Kael said, grabbing my wrist. His grip was tight, desperate. “You’ve already given enough. Let me go.”
“You can’t,” I said, pulling free. “The ritual demands a blood relative. A daughter. A mother. A bond of blood and magic. You can’t take my place, Kael. Not even with the Blood Moon Bond.”
He didn’t flinch. Just kept his eyes on me. “Then I’ll go with you. Into the void. I’ll fight for her. I’ll bring her back.”
“And if you die?” I asked, my voice breaking. “If the void consumes you? What then?”
“Then I die knowing I tried,” he said, stepping closer. “Knowing I fought for you. For the truth.”
My breath hitched.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
Maeve stepped forward, her hands trembling. “There’s another way,” she said. “A ritual. An exchange. Not a memory. Not a soul. But *power*. If you channel your moonfire through the bond, through the scroll, you can open a bridge. A tether. And if she’s strong enough—”
“She is,” I said. “She’s *alive*. I’ve heard her. I’ve *felt* her.”
“Then we do it,” Kael said. “Now.”
Maeve nodded, her hands moving fast as she relit the candles around the pool. The flames burned white, casting no shadows. She placed the original scroll at the edge of the basin, its surface pulsing with stolen magic. Then she stepped back, her voice chanting in a language older than blood.
The air thickened.
The magic built.
The scrying pool rippled—not from the wind, not from my breath—but from *within*.
“The ritual begins at moonrise,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You must stand together. The bond must be open. The scroll must be whole. And the power—”
“Will be mine,” I said, stepping beside Kael. “And I’ll give it everything.”
He didn’t answer. Just reached for my hand—just for a second—his fingers brushing mine, warm, grounding. The bond flared, a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in anger, not in defense, but in *recognition*. As if my power knew what my mind refused to admit.
That I wasn’t just fighting for my mother.
I was fighting for *us*.
And that thought—
That thought was more dangerous than any blade.
The moon rose.
Silver light poured through the windows, flooding the room, illuminating the scrying pool. The moonstone flared, its light pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Maeve stepped back, her hands trembling. “It’s time,” she said. “Speak her name. Call her back.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Mother,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m coming for you.”
The pool erupted.
Not with water.
Not with light.
But with *sound*.
A whisper. Soft. Familiar. Laced with sorrow.
“Opal.”
My breath caught.
“I’m here,” I said, stepping closer. “I’ve found the truth. I’ve broken the lie. And I’m bringing you home.”
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. The void is not kind to the living.”
“Then I’ll make it kind,” I said, my voice rising. “I’ll burn it from the inside out if I have to. But I’m not leaving without you.”
And then—
I raised the scroll.
And I burned.
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
It didn’t hurt anyone. Didn’t burn.
It *revealed*.
The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. Kael’s golden light surged with mine, not in conflict, not in denial—but in *sync*. Our hearts beat as one. Our breath mingled. Our souls—
They *fused*.
And the scroll—
It *opened*.
The magic surged—a bridge of silver and gold, stretching into the void, into the silence, into the wound in reality. And then—
I saw her.
Trapped in a cage of light, her silver-blue eyes filled with sorrow. “Opal,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“I had to,” I said, reaching for her. “I’m getting you out.”
“The void will consume you,” she said. “It’s not meant for the living.”
“Then I’ll die knowing I tried,” I said, my voice breaking. “Knowing I fought for you. For the truth.”
She didn’t cry.
Just smiled.
And in that smile—
I saw the truth.
That I had not lost her.
Because love was not in memory.
It was in the bond.
And the bond was still mine.
“Then let’s go home,” I said, reaching through the cage.
And as our fingers touched—
The void screamed.
The light shattered.
And we were falling again.
Back to the world.
Back to the fight.
Back to the truth.
I woke in Kael’s arms, my breath coming in shallow gasps, my body trembling. The scrying pool was still. The moonstone dimmed. Maeve stood over us, her face pale, her hands trembling.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You brought her back.”
But I didn’t answer.
Just buried my face in Kael’s coat, my breath trembling, my heart breaking.
Because I’d just done the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do.
I’d given up the last proof that my mother had loved me.
And yet—
As I lay there, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine—
I didn’t feel empty.
I felt *free*.
And then—
She was there.
Not a ghost. Not a memory. Not a dream.
Real.
Alive.
My mother.
She stood in the doorway, her silver-blue eyes filled with tears, her hands trembling. She wore a long, flowing robe of moonlight and shadow, her hair cascading over one shoulder, her presence humming with the pulse of the Fae and the fire of the witch.
“Opal,” she whispered.
And I was on my feet.
Not thinking. Not breathing. Just *moving*.
I crossed the room in three strides, my boots silent on the stone, and I *crashed* into her. My arms locked around her, my face buried in her hair, my breath coming in ragged gasps. She was real. Warm. Alive. And she smelled like home—like crushed moonwort and old parchment and the scent of her magic, wild and untamed.
“Mother,” I sobbed. “You’re alive. You’re *alive*.”
“I never left,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ve been with you. Always.”
And then—
She pulled back, her hands cupping my face, her silver-blue eyes searching mine. “You’ve become more than I dreamed,” she said, her voice soft. “Stronger. Braver. More *true*.”
My breath caught.
She wasn’t just saying it to comfort me.
She *meant* it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
Kael stepped forward, his presence a shadow at my back. “She saved you,” he said, his voice low. “She broke the lie. She banished Vexis. And she brought you back.”
My mother turned to him, her gaze sharp. “And you,” she said. “You protected her. Even when it cost you everything.”
He didn’t flinch. Just nodded. “I would do it again.”
She studied him for a long moment, then stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest. “The bond is not a curse,” she said. “It’s a covenant. A union of will, not force. And if you love her—”
“I do,” he said, not hesitating. “With every breath in my body.”
She didn’t smile. Just nodded. “Then protect her. Not as her Alpha. Not as her consort. As her *equal*.”
He didn’t answer. Just reached for my hand—just for a second—his fingers brushing mine, warm, grounding. The bond flared, a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet.
And in that moment—
I knew.
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 her back.
But as I stood beside Kael, his hand brushing mine, his presence a shadow at my back—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.