The ritual didn’t end with silence.
It ended with a scream.
Not mine.
Not Cassian’s.
Not even Dain’s, though his hands trembled as he poured the stolen witch blood over our palms, though his voice cracked as he chanted the old words—the ones only bloodmages knew, the ones that burned through lies like acid through silk.
No.
The scream came from Mira.
It tore from her throat like a blade ripping through flesh, raw and guttural, so full of pain it didn’t even sound human. Her body arched off the stone slab, her back bowing until I thought her spine would snap, her fingers clawing at the air as if she could tear the magic from her own veins.
“She’s fighting it,” Cassian growled, pressing his palm harder against her back. “The blood is rejecting the corruption.”
“Then we push harder,” I said, my voice steady, even as my own pulse roared in my ears. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just pressed my hand flat against her chest, where the sigil had once burned black beneath her skin, where now only a faint, sickly glow pulsed—like a dying ember.
Dain’s voice rose, sharp and commanding, weaving through the chamber in a language older than the Fae, older than the thorns. Words that tasted of iron and moonlight. Words that hurt. The witch blood on our hands sizzled, turning from liquid to smoke, curling around our wrists like serpents. The bond between Cassian and me flared—not with desire, not with need, but with power. A deep, molten current, feeding the ritual, feeding the truth.
And then—
Mira spoke.
Not in her voice.
Not in Veylan’s.
But in a third—one I’d never heard before, yet knew instantly.
“You were never supposed to survive,” the voice hissed, dripping with venom. “You were meant to die in the fire. Like your mother.”
My breath punched out of me.
“Keep going,” Cassian said, his voice low, urgent. “It’s the last of the corruption. It’s clinging. Dying.”
I didn’t answer. Just channeled everything—my rage, my grief, my need—into the magic. The sigil beneath my palm flared brighter, then darker, then—
Cracked.
Like glass.
Like a curse finally broken.
Mira screamed again—this time in relief—and collapsed back onto the slab, her body limp, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The dark glow beneath her skin faded. The veins stopped pulsing. The collar around her neck—now nothing but shattered thorn—crumbled to ash.
She was free.
And alive.
“You did it,” Dain whispered, his voice rough with exhaustion. He dropped to his knees beside her, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Mira… you’re back.”
She didn’t open her eyes. Just turned her face toward his touch, her lips parting in a faint, trembling smile. “Dain…”
My chest tightened.
Not from the bond.
Not from magic.
From guilt.
I’d spent years believing I was alone. That no one had loved me. That no one had fought for me. But Mira had. She’d hidden me. Taught me. Protected me. And I’d taken it all for granted—until now, when I saw the way Dain looked at her, the way his hands shook as he brushed the hair from her face, the way his voice cracked when he said her name.
She wasn’t just my mentor.
She was someone’s love.
And I’d almost lost her.
“We need to get her somewhere safe,” I said, stepping back. “Somewhere Veylan can’t reach.”
“There is no such place,” Cassian said, his gold eyes scanning the shadows. “Not anymore. He knows we’re coming. He knows the bond is stable. He’ll strike before the full moon.”
“Then we strike first.”
He looked at me. “And if he kills her in the process?”
“Then we burn him to ash and dance on his grave.”
He didn’t smile. Just nodded. “Then we move. Now.”
—
We didn’t carry her.
Didn’t risk the open tunnels or the guarded streets.
Instead, Cassian summoned the thorns.
Not to bind.
Not to kill.
To carry.
Black vines, thick as arms, coiled from the stone floor, lifting Mira gently, cradling her like a child. Dain walked beside her, his hand never leaving hers. Kaelen took point, his wolf-mark glowing faintly, his golden eyes scanning the darkness ahead. Cassian and I brought up the rear, the bond humming between us, a live wire, feeding on proximity, on breath, on the way our bodies knew each other.
We moved fast.
Through forgotten passages. Beneath collapsed archways. Past cages where half-bloods whimpered in the dark. The air grew colder the deeper we went, the scent of rot and iron thick in my throat. But I didn’t slow. Didn’t hesitate.
Not until we reached the chamber.
Not the Thorn Chamber.
Not the Blood Market.
But a place older than both.
A forgotten sanctuary, sealed with blood and thorn, its entrance hidden beneath a mosaic of shattered stars. Cassian pressed his palm to the stone, letting his blood drip onto the ancient runes. They flared—black, then crimson—before the wall groaned open.
Inside, the air was still. Cold. The scent of old magic clung to the walls, mixed with the faint, sweet tang of dried moonflowers. The chamber was small, circular, its ceiling domed with glowing sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. At its center stood a stone dais, carved with the symbols of the old covens—witches who had ruled before the Fae, before the lies, before the bloodlines were purged.
“This place,” I whispered, stepping inside. “It’s… sacred.”
“It was,” Cassian said, his voice low. “Before they burned it.”
He didn’t say who “they” were.
We both knew.
The Fae. The purists. The ones who feared what they couldn’t control.
They’d slaughtered the witches. Destroyed their temples. Erased their history.
But not all of it.
Some had survived.
Some had hidden.
And some—like Mira—had waited.
We laid her on the dais, the thorns retracting as gently as they’d lifted her. Dain knelt beside her, pressing a vial of dark liquid to her lips. She drank weakly, her fingers trembling as they curled around his wrist.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered. “You’re home.”
She smiled—faint, fragile—and closed her eyes.
And for the first time since we’d pulled her from the spire, I let myself believe we might actually win.
Then she coughed.
Not a dry hack.
Not a sign of weakness.
But a deep, wet, rattling sound—like blood bubbling in her lungs.
My breath stopped.
Dain’s head snapped up, his onyx eyes wide with terror. “No… no, not now…”
“What’s happening?” I demanded, dropping to my knees beside her.
“The corruption,” Cassian said, his voice tight. “It wasn’t just in her blood. It was in her magic. In her soul. We broke the collar, but the damage… it’s too deep.”
“Then fix it!” I snapped, my voice breaking. “You’re the king. You have power. Do something.”
“I can’t,” he said, his gold eyes blazing with something deeper than rage. “Not without killing her.”
I turned back to Mira.
Her face was pale. Her lips tinged with blue. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. But when she opened her eyes, they were clear. Sharp. alive.
“Seraphina,” she whispered, reaching for my hand.
I took it. Squeezed it. “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
“You have to,” she said. “You have to finish this. For me. For your mother. For all of us.”
“No,” I said, tears burning in my storm-gray eyes. “Not without you.”
She smiled. Weak. Tender. “You’ve never needed me, child. You’ve always been stronger than you knew.”
“I need you now.”
“Then listen,” she said, her voice growing fainter. “The truth… it’s not just about Cassian. Not just about the throne. It’s about you.”
My breath hitched.
“Veylan isn’t just a purist,” she said. “He’s not just a tyrant. He’s… yours.”
“What?”
“He’s your father,” she whispered. “The one who ordered your mother’s execution. The one who let you burn. The one who’s been hunting you ever since.”
The world tilted.
My stomach dropped.
I couldn’t breathe.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not— that’s impossible.”
“It’s true,” Mira said, her fingers tightening around mine. “He loved her. But he feared what she’d created. Feared what you were. So he destroyed her. And tried to destroy you.”
I looked at Cassian.
His face was stone. But his eyes—gold, blazing, knowing—held mine.
He’d known.
And he hadn’t told me.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because you would have gone after him,” he said. “And he would have killed you.”
“And now?”
“Now,” he said, stepping closer, “you’re not just avenging your mother. You’re facing your father. And you’re not the child he left to burn.”
“I’m not afraid,” I said, my voice low, steady.
“I know,” he said. “I’ve never seen you more ready.”
Mira coughed again—worse this time. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
“Seraphina,” she whispered. “Promise me… you’ll burn it all down.”
“I promise,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “I swear it.”
She smiled.
And then—
Her hand went slack.
Her eyes closed.
Her breath… stopped.
“No,” Dain whispered, pressing his hands to her chest. “No, no, no—”
But it was too late.
She was gone.
I didn’t scream.
Didn’t collapse.
Just knelt there, her hand in mine, the bond humming beneath my skin, the truth burning in my chest.
My mother.
My mentor.
My father.
All of it—
One lie.
One life.
One war.
And I was the only one left to finish it.
“She loved you,” Dain said, his voice breaking. “To the end. She loved you.”
I didn’t answer.
Just pressed her hand to my forehead, then laid it gently on her chest. My knife was still in my corset. The poison, sewn into the hem. The scrap of ledger with her name tucked into a hidden pocket over my heart.
I wasn’t here to be broken.
I was here to break him.
And the throne.
And the lies.
And now—
I had nothing left to lose.
—
We didn’t bury her.
Didn’t risk the surface, the watchers, the spies.
Instead, we burned her.
Right there, on the dais, beneath the glowing sigils of the old covens. Dain lit the pyre with a whisper, the flames rising in a spiral of blue and silver, the scent of moonflowers and iron filling the air. Her body turned to ash in moments, carried away on the wind that stirred through the chamber like a sigh.
And when it was over, Dain fell to his knees, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Kaelen placed a hand on his shoulder, but didn’t speak.
Neither did Cassian.
Just stood beside me, his presence a wall of heat and power, his gold eyes scanning the shadows.
“He’ll come for us now,” he said. “He knows we know the truth.”
“Let him,” I said, my voice low, cold. “I’m not running anymore.”
He turned to me, his gaze sharp. “You’re not afraid.”
“I’m not stupid,” I said. “I know what’s coming.”
“And you’re still willing?”
“I’m not willing,” I said. “I’m ready.”
He didn’t smile.
Just reached for my hand.
And the bond—
It didn’t flare.
It roared.
—
We left the sanctuary in silence.
Not because there was nothing to say.
But because everything had been said.
The lies were burned.
The masks were gone.
And the truth—
It was alive.
We moved through the tunnels, side by side, the bond thrumming with something deeper than magic. Blood. Truth. History. And beneath it—hunger. Not for food. Not for sleep. But for him. For the heat of his skin, the taste of his breath, the way his body moved like liquid under his clothes.
When we reached the surface, the moon was high, its silver light spilling over the thorned rooftops of the palace. The wind stirred the vines. Somewhere, deep in the heart of the city, a wolf howled.
And I knew—
The full moon was coming.
And we would face it—
Together.
—
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Cassian said, as we stood at the edge of the palace gardens, the city glittering below.
“I’m not alone,” I said, turning to him. “I have you. I have Kaelen. I have Dain. I have the truth.”
He stepped closer, his hand brushing my cheek. A whisper of touch. Fire raced across my skin.
“And if it costs you everything?”
“Then it costs him everything too,” I said. “And I’ll make sure he burns first.”
He didn’t argue.
Just pressed his forehead to mine, his breath tangled with mine.
“You’re not afraid,” he said.
“I’m not stupid,” I said. “I know what’s coming.”
“And you’re still willing?”
“I’m not willing,” I said. “I’m ready.”
And then—
I reached for the hem of my gown.
And pulled it over my head.
Not for him.
Not for the bond.
But for me.
For the girl who had watched her mother burn.
For the woman who had survived.
For the queen who would rise.
And for the father who would fall.