The air in the northern valley tasted of iron and old magic—sharp, metallic, like blood on the wind. We moved through the mist at dawn, the Free Pack silent behind me, their breaths shallow, their weapons drawn. The ruins of the Fae Court of Thorns rose ahead, a jagged crown of black stone piercing the sky, its towers broken, its arches collapsed. Vines as thick as serpents coiled around the pillars, their thorns glistening with dew. The scent of decay clung to the air—rotten blossoms, cursed earth, something darker. Something alive.
I didn’t flinch.
Didn’t slow.
Just walked, barefoot, my storm-gray eyes burning, my mark pulsing—silver thorns intertwined with crimson vines, now wrapping around my collarbone, the vines curling toward my heart. The ritual in Veridia had changed me. Strengthened me. And now—
Now I could feel it.
The power.
The truth.
The storm.
And it was mine.
Kael walked beside me, shirtless, scars on display, his golden eyes scanning the shadows. He didn’t speak. Just kept his hand in mine, the bond pulsing—hot, electric, alive. I could feel it—the tension, the way his wolf prowled just beneath the surface, the way his magic flared every time we stepped closer to the ruins. This was his mother’s prison. His nightmare. The place where they’d carved into him, told him he was nothing, that love was weakness, that he’d never be free.
And now—
We were here to burn it down.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice low, rough. “We can take her from the keep. From the Citadel. From anywhere but—”
“No,” I said, stepping forward, my storm-gray eyes locking onto his. “This ends here. In the place where she broke you. Where she killed your mother. Where she tried to erase us both. And if we don’t face her here—” my voice rose, “—then we’ll never be free.”
He didn’t answer.
Just squeezed my hand, his claws pressing into my skin, not to hurt, but to hold. And then—
We moved.
***
The gates of the Fae Court were gone—shattered, twisted, half-buried in thorned brambles. We stepped through the wreckage, our boots silent on the stone, our presence a solid wall against the silence. The Free Pack fanned out—Lyra to my left, her silver blade at her hip, her dark braid coiled like a serpent. Torin to my right, his coat gone, his fangs bared, his scars glowing faintly with residual magic. Behind us—wolves with fire in their eyes, witches with spells at their fingertips, vampires with fangs bared, fae with thorned wings.
And then—
We felt it.
Not the bond.
Not the magic.
Her.
***
Elira stood in the center of the ruins, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her gown white as snow, her hands stained with blood. She didn’t look at us. Just stood there, her back to the broken throne, her presence a solid wall against the silence. The air thickened, the scent of decay deepening, the vines curling tighter around the pillars, their thorns glistening with something darker than dew.
“You’re early,” she purred, turning her head, her silver eyes locking onto mine. “I was just preparing the pyre.”
I didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, my storm-gray eyes burning. “You don’t get to decide how this ends.”
She laughed—low, cruel. “And you do? A hybrid. A witch. A woman who came to destroy Kael Blackthorn and stayed to save him. And now—” her gaze flicked to him, “—you stand before me, not as an envoy, but as a criminal. Charged with conspiracy, treason, and the unlawful manipulation of the Shadow Fate.”
“And you’re charged with murder,” I said, stepping closer. “With framing an innocent man. With ordering the assassination of my sister. With using lies to tear apart the very thing you claim to protect.”
“Lies?” she asked, stepping forward, her voice rising. “I speak the truth. The bond between you and Kael was corrupted. You used blood magic to manipulate him. To control him. To turn him against his own kind. And if you doubt me—” she raised her hand, “—then let the evidence speak.”
A mirror formed in the air—cracked, ancient, its surface swirling with smoke. And then—
Images.
Kael, in his study, signing the ledger. Me, whispering in the shadows, my hands glowing with crimson magic. Silas, handing over the blood-red dossier. The Free Pack, burning the Eastern Pack’s territory. And then—
My sister.
Her spine snapped. Her eyes wide. Her blood pooling on the stone.
My breath caught.
“You forged this,” I said, my voice breaking.
“No,” she said, her smile widening. “I simply revealed the truth. And now—” she stepped closer, “—you have a choice. Confess. Submit. And you’ll be spared. Or deny it—” her voice dropped, “—and we’ll burn you alive.”
The Free Pack erupted.
Wolves growling. Witches raising their hands. Vampires baring their fangs. Fae spreading their wings.
And then—
I stepped forward.
Not toward Elira.
Not toward the mirror.
Toward the truth.
My hand rose, fingers spreading, magic flaring—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined. The glass cracked. The images flickered. And then—
Truth.
Not the forged ledger. Not the manipulated bond. Not the false confession.
The truth.
Elira, standing over my sister, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her hands stained with blood. Elira, whispering to Council envoys in the shadows. Elira, using a blood-quill to mimic Kael’s signature. Elira, laughing as she ordered the hit—“Hybrids are abominations. They must be erased.”
The Free Pack fell silent.
Not from fear.
From shock.
And then—
Elira moved.
Fast.
Desperate.
One moment she was at the head of the ruins.
The next—
She was in my face, her voice low, dangerous. “You think this changes anything? You think the Council will believe a hybrid over a fae duchess? You think they’ll let you walk away?”
“They will,” I said, stepping back, my storm-gray eyes burning. “Because I’m not just a hybrid. I’m not just a witch. I’m not just Kael’s mate. I’m the storm. And if you think you can stand in my way—” my voice rose, “—then you don’t know what I am.”
She didn’t flinch. Just smiled—slow, devastating. “And if I kill you?”
“Then I die,” I said, stepping closer. “But not alone.”
And then—
Kael was there.
Not beside me.
Behind her.
One hand gripped her arm, the other pressing to her throat, his golden eyes burning. “You don’t get to touch her,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. “Not again. Not ever.”
Elira didn’t struggle. Just laughed—low, cruel. “You think you can stop me? You’re half-fae. Half-wolf. A killer. A rebel. And I—” her voice dropped, “—am your grandmother.”
My breath caught.
“You’re lying,” Kael said, his voice breaking.
“Am I?” she asked, turning her head, her silver eyes locking onto his. “You think your mother was just a prisoner? No. She was my daughter. My blood. And when she fell in love with a wolf, when she bore you, I had no choice. I had to erase her. To erase you. To protect the purity of our kind.”
Kael’s hand trembled.
Not from weakness.
From rage.
“You killed her,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “You held her prisoner. You used me as a weapon. You made me believe love was weakness. And now—” his grip tightened, “—you’ll pay.”
“And if the Council stops you?” she asked, her voice cold. “If they call it murder? If they strip your title? If they—” her voice broke, “—kill you?”
“Then I die fighting,” he said, stepping closer. “But not before I make you suffer.”
The Free Pack erupted.
Wolves howling. Witches sending bolts of fire into the air. Vampires descending like ghosts. Fae spreading their wings, thorns glinting in the light.
And then—
I stepped forward.
Not toward Elira.
Not toward Kael.
Toward the ruins.
My voice cut through the chaos, loud, clear, unbroken. “You want truth? You want justice? Then look at the evidence. Look at the ledger. Look at the blood. Look at the lies. And if you still believe her—” my hand rose, pressing to the mark on my shoulder, “—then you’re no better than she is.”
The Free Pack didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just stood in silence, their weapons drawn, their presence a solid wall against the silence.
And then—
One of them stepped forward.
A witch, her gown black as midnight, her eyes silver. She didn’t look at Elira. Just stepped forward, unrolling a scroll sealed with wax the color of dried blood.
“By order of the Free Pack,” she intoned, her voice cold, “Lady Elira Nox, Duchess of the Fae Court of Thorns, you are hereby charged with treason, murder, and the unlawful manipulation of interspecies law. You are to surrender your title, your weapons, and your seat, and submit to immediate imprisonment pending trial.”
Elira didn’t flinch. Just smiled—slow, devastating. “And if I refuse?”
“Then you will be taken by force,” she said, not looking up. “And your bloodline will be erased.”
She didn’t answer.
Just turned to me, her silver eyes burning. “This isn’t over. The war has just begun.”
“And I’ll be ready,” I said, stepping closer, my storm-gray eyes locking onto hers. “Because I’m not what I expected. And neither are you.”
And then—
Kael let her go.
Not gently.
Not slowly.
With *force*.
One hand shoved her back, sending her crashing into the dais. She didn’t fight. Just stood there, her gown torn, her hair matted, her presence a solid wall against the silence.
And then—
The guards took her.
Not with kindness.
Not with mercy.
With chains.
Moonsteel. Forged in blood. Sealed with magic.
And as they dragged her away—
She laughed.
Low.
Cruel.
Like a promise.
***
The ruins were silent.
Not from fear.
From awe.
The Free Pack stood in formation—wolves with fire in their eyes, witches with spells at their fingertips, vampires with fangs bared, fae with thorned wings. Elira was gone. The remnants of her army retreated into the shadows, their presence fading like smoke.
And then—
Kael stepped forward.
Not toward the enemy.
Not toward the Council.
Toward me.
His hand rose, pressing to the mark on my shoulder—silver thorns intertwined with crimson vines, now wrapping around my collarbone, the vines curling toward my heart. “You’re not what I expected,” he said, his voice rough.
“Neither are you,” I said, stepping closer, my storm-gray eyes burning.
And then—
He kissed me.
Not slow. Not soft.
Hard.
Deep.
Claiming.
His mouth crashed into mine, hungry, furious, a war cry. I groaned, arching into him, my hands flying to his waist, pulling him against me. He didn’t let me take control. Didn’t let me dominate. Just kissed me—deep, aching, fierce—his tongue sweeping into my mouth, his fingers tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine.
The bond exploded—light, sound, magic—crimson and gold flaring between us like a living flame. The sigils on the ruins glowed brighter. The heather burned. The moonlight poured down, silver and cold, casting long, clawed shadows.
And then—
He broke the kiss.
“You’re not what I expected,” he whispered, his voice rough.
“Neither are you,” I said, pressing my forehead to his.
And then—
We turned.
Not away from the ruins.
Not toward the keep.
Toward the Free Pack.
Lyra. Torin. The hybrids.
My storm.
My truth.
And they weren’t here to negotiate.
They were here to burn.
***
Outside, the valley was silent.
But inside—
There was only us.
And the fire that would burn the world down.