The dreams began the night after Torin knelt.
Not nightmares. Not visions. Not the fevered hallucinations of bond denial or moonfire surges. These were… clear. So vivid, so real, that when I woke, my fingers still trembled from the echo of his touch, my lips still burned from the ghost of his kiss. The bond had always pulsed beneath my skin, a live wire of magic and need, but this—this was something deeper. Something *shared*.
I would fall asleep in Kael’s arms, my head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, the warmth of his body a shield against the cold of the Citadel. And then—
I’d be somewhere else.
Not the Obsidian Chamber. Not the scrying pool. Not the blood-stained altar of the Blood Moon Ritual.
A forest.
Deep. Ancient. Drenched in silver moonlight that filtered through the canopy like liquid starlight. The air was thick with the scent of crushed pine and damp earth, the silence broken only by the distant hoot of an owl and the rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth. And there—
Kael.
Not as I knew him. Not in his coat of blackened wool, his golden eyes burning with the weight of command. He was bare-chested, his skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat, his muscles coiled like a predator at rest. His hair was longer, wilder, falling over his shoulders in dark waves. He stood at the edge of a clearing, his back to me, his head tilted as if listening to something only he could hear.
And then—
He turned.
His eyes found mine. Not with suspicion. Not with the old hatred that had once flared between us like wildfire. With recognition.
“You’re here,” he said, his voice rough, echoing through the trees.
“I didn’t mean to be,” I whispered, stepping forward. My bare feet sank into the moss, cool and soft beneath my soles. I wore a simple linen dress, the kind my mother used to wear when she taught me the old words. It fluttered around my legs as I moved, the hem brushing the forest floor.
“But you are,” he said, stepping toward me. “And you’ve always been.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just talking about the dream.
He was talking about *us*.
He reached for me, his hand warm, calloused, grounding. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in fire, not in light, but in harmony. And then—
We kissed.
Not in desperation. Not in magic. Not in the heat of battle or the aftermath of war.
But in truth.
Slow. Deep. Real. His lips moved against mine, not with possession, not with dominance, but with something I couldn’t name—longing, maybe. Or love. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. The forest faded. The moonlight dimmed. There was only him. Only us. Only the quiet hum of the bond, deeper now, richer, like a river fed by a thousand streams.
And then—
I woke.
Gasping. Shaking. My hand pressed to my stomach, where the child’s warmth pulsed in time with my heartbeat. Kael was still beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his breath steady against my neck. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t stirred. But I knew—
He’d been there too.
The next night, it happened again.
Another forest. Another clearing. Another kiss.
But this time, we spoke.
“Do you remember the first time you saw me?” I asked, my fingers tracing the scar on his collarbone—the one from the Iron Fangs’ ambush. “In the Obsidian Chamber. When the ritual began.”
He didn’t flinch. Just met my gaze, his golden eyes burning. “I remember thinking you were the most dangerous thing I’d ever seen.”
“And now?” I whispered.
“Now,” he said, stepping into me, “I think you’re the only thing that’s ever been real.”
And then—
The kiss.
Deeper this time. Slower. Like we had all the time in the world.
And I believed him.
Because in that moment, in that dream, I did.
By the third night, I stopped fighting it.
I stopped asking if it was real. If it was magic. If it was the bond twisting our minds, our memories, our desires. I just… let go. I let myself fall into the dream, into the forest, into his arms. I let myself believe that this—this quiet, this peace, this love—was possible.
And then, on the fourth night, it changed.
The forest was still there. The silver moonlight. The scent of pine. But something was different. The air was heavier. The silence sharper. And Kael—
He wasn’t waiting for me.
He was running.
I saw him through the trees—barefoot, his coat torn, his golden eyes wide with something I’d never seen before.
Fear.
“Kael!” I shouted, sprinting after him. My feet slipped on the moss, my breath came in ragged gasps. The bond flared—a deep, insistent pulse—but it wasn’t pulling me to him.
It was pulling me *away*.
“Opal!” he called, turning. “Run! Don’t come closer!”
But I didn’t stop.
Just kept running, my heart pounding, my magic rising like a tide. And then—
I saw it.
Behind him.
Not a wolf. Not a wraith. Not even Lyra, twisted by Vexis’s magic.
A child.
Small. Naked. Floating in the air, their limbs suspended like a puppet on invisible strings. Their skin was pale, almost translucent, their veins threaded with silver—like moonfire, but darker. Colder. Their eyes—two pits of void, just like Lyra’s—locked onto me.
And then—
They smiled.
Not with malice.
Not with cruelty.
With recognition.
“Mother,” they whispered, their voice a chorus of echoes.
My breath stilled.
“No,” I said, stepping back. “No, that’s not—”
“It’s *you*,” Kael said, his voice breaking. “It’s *our* child. But it’s not right. It’s not safe. It’s—”
“Ours,” the child said, their voice rising. “And we are coming.”
And then—
The forest burned.
Not with fire. Not with heat.
With *light*.
Silver flame erupted from the child’s hands, not burning the trees, not scorching the earth—but unraveling them. The moss turned to ash. The trees dissolved into mist. The moonlight shattered like glass. And then—
I woke.
Screaming.
Kael was already sitting up, his body a wall between me and the darkness. His claws were out, his golden eyes scanning the room, his breath coming in low growls. “What is it?” he demanded, his voice rough. “What did you see?”
I couldn’t speak. Just pressed my hand to my stomach, where the child’s warmth pulsed—stronger now, faster, almost frantic. My breath came in shallow gasps. My heart pounded. My magic surged, not in defense, not in anger, but in panic.
“It was the dream,” I said, my voice breaking. “But it wasn’t just a dream. It was… a warning.”
He didn’t flinch. Just pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low. “Tell me everything.”
I did.
About the forest. About the child. About the silver flame that didn’t burn but unraveled. About the voice that called me *mother*. About the way the bond had twisted, pulling me away instead of toward him.
When I finished, he didn’t speak. Just held me, his breath warm against my neck, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. And then—
“It’s not a warning,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s a memory.”
I lifted my head. “What?”
“Not of the future,” he said, his golden eyes burning into mine. “Of the past. Of what the bond was meant to be. What it *could* be. What our child *is*.”
“You think it’s real?” I whispered.
“I know it is,” he said, brushing his thumb along the bond mark on my neck. “The bond isn’t just tying us together, Opal. It’s awakening something. In you. In me. In the child. And if Vexis senses it—”
“He’ll come for it,” I said, my voice breaking. “For the magic. For the bond. For *us*.”
He didn’t flinch. Just pulled me closer, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something sacred. Something ours. “Then we’ll be ready,” he said. “We’ll protect it. We’ll protect *you*.”
“And if we can’t?” I asked, my voice trembling. “If the child’s magic is too strong? If it consumes me? If the bond—”
“Then I’ll break it,” he said, not hesitating. “Before I let you die.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He meant it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
Because I wasn’t just fighting for my mother anymore.
I wasn’t just fighting for the truth.
I was fighting for a life.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
We didn’t sleep that night.
Just sat on the edge of the bed, my hand pressed to my stomach, his arm around my waist, the bond humming between us like a live wire. The child’s warmth pulsed steadily, no longer frantic, no longer afraid. Just… there. A quiet hum, a steady glow, like a candle lit in a dark room.
“Do you think it heard us?” I asked, my voice low.
“I think it *felt* us,” he said, his hand splayed over mine. “And it knew. It knew we’d protect it. That we’d fight for it. That we’d burn the world to keep it safe.”
Tears burned in my eyes.
He wasn’t just saying it to comfort me.
He meant it.
And that—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
Because I wasn’t just fighting for revenge anymore.
I wasn’t just fighting for the bond.
I was fighting for a future.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
At dawn, we went to the scrying chamber.
Maeve was already there, her silver hair pulled back, her eyes sharp with fear. She wore a long, flowing robe of deep blue, the color of twilight, the sigil of the Seelie Court embroidered over her heart. But beneath it—faint, hidden, but there—I could see the mark. The sigil of the Unseelie. A leash. A curse. A chain.
Or it had been.
Now, her skin was clean. The mark was gone. Broken. Severed by the Fae High Court. And yet—
She still looked afraid.
“You felt it too,” she said, her voice trembling.
“The dream?” I asked, stepping forward. “The child?”
She nodded. “It’s not just a vision. It’s a memory. A glimpse of what the bond was meant to create. A child of moonfire and wolf, of witch and fae, of truth and fire. But it’s not born yet. It’s… waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” Kael asked, his voice low.
“For the Blood Moon,” she said. “For the alignment. For the moment when the veil between worlds is thinnest. That’s when it will fully awaken. That’s when the bond will be complete.”
“And if Vexis is still out there?” I asked, my voice breaking. “If he senses it? If he—”
“Then he’ll come,” she said, stepping forward. “And he’ll try to take it. To twist it. To use it.”
“Then we’ll be ready,” Kael said, stepping into me. “We’ll protect it. We’ll protect her.”
Maeve turned to him. “And if the child’s magic is too strong? If it consumes her? If the bond—”
“Then I’ll break it,” he said, not hesitating. “Before I let her die.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He meant it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
Because I wasn’t just fighting for my mother anymore.
I wasn’t just fighting for the truth.
I was fighting for a life.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
We returned to the Citadel as the first light of dawn broke over the mountains, painting the stone spires in blood. The torches flared to life as we approached, their flames turning silver for a single, blinding second—moonfire, responding to the bond, to the truth, to us. The Northern Packs stood in formation, their presence a wall of loyalty. The vampires watched from the upper balconies, their faces impassive. The Fae lingered in the shadows, their glamours shifting like smoke.
And then—
They saw us.
The crowd stilled. The whispers died. Every eye turned to my hand, still pressed to my stomach. To Kael, his arm around my waist, his presence a wall. To the way he stood beside me, not in front, not behind, but equal.
“She’s with child,” a Northern Pack envoy murmured as we passed. His eyes flickered to my belly, to the faint glow beneath my robe. “The bond is evolving.”
“Let them talk,” I said, lifting my chin. “I don’t care what they believe.”
“You should,” Kael said, his voice low. “Rumors have power. Especially when they’re laced with truth.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
The truth was the most dangerous weapon of all.
We reached our chambers as the sun rose over the Citadel, its light warm on my skin. The fire roared to life as we crossed the threshold, the flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls. Kael closed the door behind us, the lock clicking into place. The bond hummed between us, not as a curse.
But as a promise.
He didn’t speak. Just turned and pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. My breath trembled. My heart broke. My fingers found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something sacred. Something ours.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want us.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want everything.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me slow, deep, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in pulse. Silver energy curled from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire room was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The room stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Then let it burn,” he whispered. “Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in need.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just need.
And as the fire burned low, its flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls, 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 it.
But as I lay beside Kael, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine—
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.