The ruins of the Fae Court of Thorns stood in silence—too silent. The wind had died. The heather no longer burned. Even the sun had vanished behind a veil of ashen clouds, casting the jagged crown of black stone in shadow. The air still hummed with residual magic—crimson and gold, witch and wolf entwined—but it was fading, unraveling like a spell at dawn. Around me, the Free Pack stood like statues, their breaths shallow, their weapons still drawn, their eyes scanning the shadows for the next strike. Lyra’s silver blade dripped with cursed blood. Torin’s fangs were bared, his scars glowing faintly. Behind them—wolves with fire in their eyes, witches with spells at their fingertips, vampires with fangs bared, fae with thorned wings.
But the enemy was gone.
Or so we thought.
I could feel it in the bond—Kael’s presence, solid and warm beside me, his golden eyes scanning the darkness. He hadn’t spoken since the last clash, hadn’t let go of my hand. His grip was tight, almost painful, as if he feared I’d vanish if he loosened it. And maybe I would. The power that had surged through me—the storm, the truth, the raw, unfiltered magic of the ritual—was receding, leaving behind a hollow ache, a whisper of exhaustion.
But not weakness.
Never that.
“We should move,” I said, my voice low, rough. “They’ll regroup. They’ll come back with more.”
Kael didn’t answer. Just turned his head, his gaze locking onto mine. His thumb brushed the back of my hand, a silent question. Are you ready?
I nodded. “I’m not running. But I’m not stupid. We need to regroup. Reclaim the keep. Fortify Veridia. And if they want a war—” I stepped forward, my storm-gray eyes scanning the ruins, “—then let it be on our terms.”
He exhaled, slow, deliberate. Then he squeezed my hand. “Then we move. Now.”
And we did.
Not in silence.
Not in shadow.
>In the open.The Free Pack moved like a living storm—wolves howling, witches casting, vampires running ahead to scout, fae spreading their wings to watch the skies. We didn’t look back. Didn’t mourn. Just walked, our boots silent on the stone, our presence a solid wall against the silence. The bond pulsed between us—hot, electric, alive—feeding on the adrenaline, the victory, the raw, unspoken truth that we had survived. Again.
And then—
We felt it.
Not the bond.
Not the magic.
Her.
***
The air shifted before we saw her.
Not with a scream. Not with a spell.
With a whisper.
A breath of wind that didn’t belong. A scent—silver and decay, old magic and older hate. And then—
She stepped from the shadows.
Elira.
Not broken. Not chained. Not defeated.
Whole.
Unharmed.
Smiling.
She stood at the edge of the ruins, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her gown white as snow, her hands stained with blood. But it wasn’t her presence that froze me.
It was the dagger in her hand.
Not moonsteel. Not cursed iron.
Shadowglass.
A shard of the original Fae Mirror—the one that had birthed the Shadow Fate prophecy. A weapon forged from betrayal, designed to sever bonds, to kill not just the body, but the soul. And it was aimed—
At Kael.
“You think chaining me changes anything?” she purred, her voice slicing through the wind. “You think exposing my lies makes you strong? You’re a hybrid. A contradiction. A mistake. And if you think love makes you powerful—” her voice dropped, “—then you don’t know what *real* power is.”
Kael didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, his body a wall between me and her, his golden eyes burning. “You don’t get to decide what I am,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. “Not after what you did to my mother. Not after what you did to Jade. Not after what you’ve done to every hybrid who’s ever been called a monster.”
“And what are you?” she asked, stepping closer, her silver eyes locking onto his. “A wolf? A fae? A man who came to destroy a hybrid and stayed to save her? You’re a contradiction. A mistake. And if you think love makes you strong—”
“I know what power really is,” I said, stepping forward, my storm-gray eyes burning. “It’s not fear. It’s not lies. It’s not chaining people to their pasts and calling it tradition. It’s standing when everyone tells you to kneel. It’s fighting when everyone tells you to run. It’s loving when everyone tells you to hate.”
She didn’t answer.
Just smiled—slow, devastating.
And then—
She moved.
Fast.
Desperate.
One moment she was at the edge of the ruins.
The next—
She was in Kael’s face, the Shadowglass dagger flashing toward his heart.
And I didn’t think.
I just acted.
***
My body moved before my mind could catch up.
One second I was behind Kael.
The next—
I was in front of him.
My arms spread. My magic flaring—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined. I didn’t cast a spell. Didn’t summon fire or wind or blood.
I just stepped.
The dagger struck.
Not his heart.
Mine.
The impact was silent. No scream. No explosion. Just a cold, sharp pressure in my chest, like ice cracking through bone. I gasped—more from shock than pain—and stumbled back, my boots crunching over stone. The world tilted. The sky blurred. The bond—our bond—screamed.
And then—
Kael was there.
Not beside me.
Under me.
He caught me as I fell, his arms wrapping around me, his body a wall of heat and muscle. His golden eyes burned into mine, wide, wild, terrified. “Jade,” he said, his voice breaking. “No. No, no, no—”
I tried to speak. Tried to tell him I was fine. That it didn’t hurt. That I’d do it again. But my breath came in shallow gasps, and the words wouldn’t form. Blood—dark, too dark—seeped through my tunic, spreading like ink across the fabric.
“You don’t get to die,” he snarled, his voice low, dangerous. “Not before I decide what to do with you.”
I managed a weak smile. “You said that… before.”
“And I meant it,” he growled, pressing his palm to the wound. His magic flared—golden and feral, wolf and storm—but it didn’t heal. Couldn’t. The Shadowglass was designed to resist magic. To sever bonds. To kill slowly. Painfully.
And it was working.
***
Elira didn’t laugh. Didn’t gloat.
Just stepped back, her silver eyes burning. “You see?” she said, her voice cold. “Love is weakness. It blinds. It breaks. And now—” she raised the dagger, its edge still glistening with my blood, “—you’ll watch her die.”
Kael didn’t look at her.
Didn’t move.
Just held me, his arms tight, his breath hot against my neck. I could feel the bond—our bond—pulsing, flaring, screaming as it began to fray. The silver thorns intertwined with crimson vines on my shoulder flickered, dimming like a dying flame. The magic that had surged through me—the storm, the truth—was fading.
And so was I.
“You don’t get to take her,” Kael said, his voice low, dangerous. “Not her. Not ever.”
“And what will you do?” Elira asked, stepping closer. “Kill me? You can’t. The Council will call it murder. They’ll strip your title. They’ll—”
“Then let them,” he said, standing, still cradling me in his arms. “Let them try. Let them come. Let them bleed. Because I’m not stepping down. Not for them. Not for the old order. I’m staying. And if you think I’ll let you use lies to tear us apart—” his voice dropped, “—then you’ll learn what the storm really is.”
She didn’t flinch. Just smiled—slow, devastating. “Then watch her die.”
And then—
She lunged.
Not at me.
At Kael.
One moment she was across the field.
The next—
She was in his face, the Shadowglass dagger flashing toward his throat.
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t dodge.
Just held me tighter, his body a shield.
And then—
The Free Pack moved.
Not in silence.
Not in shadow.
>In the open.Lyra was the first—her silver blade flashing, slashing across Elira’s arm, sending the dagger clattering to the stone. Torin was next—his fangs bared, his claws ripping through her gown, drawing blood. Witches sent bolts of fire into the air. Vampires descended like ghosts. Fae spread their wings, thorns glinting.
And then—
Elira vanished.
Not in smoke.
Not in shadow.
In a burst of cursed light.
And she was gone.
***
The ruins were silent.
Not from fear.
From dread.
Kael didn’t let go of me. Just knelt there, his arms wrapped around me, his face buried in my neck. I could feel his breath—hot, ragged—against my skin. Could feel the bond—our bond—flickering, like a flame about to go out.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Not now. Not after everything. Not after—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, my voice weak. “You’re stuck with me, remember?”
He didn’t laugh. Just pressed his forehead to mine, his golden eyes burning. “You’re not what I expected,” he said, his voice rough.
“Neither are you,” I whispered, lifting a trembling hand to his cheek. “But you’re mine. And I’m yours. And if that means healing together—” my voice rose, “—then I’ll burn the world down to make it happen.”
The bond flared—hot, electric, alive. The sigils on the ruins glowed faintly, ancient power stirring, responding to the truth we’d finally spoken.
And then—
I coughed.
Dark blood spilled from my lips.
My vision blurred.
The world tilted.
And then—
Darkness.
***
I didn’t dream of fire.
Not the kind that burns.
Not the kind that cleanses.
I dreamed of silence.
Of emptiness.
Of a bond severed, a heart stilled, a storm extinguished.
And in the center of it—
Kael.
Standing alone, his golden eyes burning, his body a wall of muscle and fury. But his hands were empty. His chest was bare. The mark on his shoulder—our mark—was gone. And he was screaming.
Not in rage.
In grief.
And then—
I woke.
***
I was in the war room.
Not in the ruins.
Not on the battlefield.
In Blackthorn Keep.
The obsidian table was cracked. The mirror was shattered. The sigils on the walls flickered weakly, their crimson glow dimming. And in the center of it all—Kael.
He sat beside me, his body a wall of muscle and fury, his golden eyes burning. His hand was in mine, the bond pulsing—hot, electric, alive. But his face—
Broken.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough.
“Did I miss anything?” I asked, my voice weak.
He didn’t smile. Just pressed a kiss to my forehead, his breath hot against my skin. “You’ve been out for hours. The wound—” he hesitated, “—it’s not healing. The Shadowglass is resisting magic. We’ve tried everything.”
“Then try something else,” I said, squeezing his hand. “You’re not what I expected. And neither am I. And if that means we break every rule to stay together—” my voice rose, “—then we’ll burn the world down.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me against him, his arms wrapping around me, his body a wall of heat and muscle. The bond flared—hot, electric, alive. My breath caught. My magic flared. The sigils on the walls glowed faintly, ancient power stirring, responding to the truth we’d finally spoken.
And then—
I smiled.
“Worth it,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just held me tighter, his face buried in my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
And then—
The door opened.
Torin stood in the doorway, his coat gone, his scars on display, his fangs still bared. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice low. “The eastern cell. No magic. No visitors. No lies.”
Kael didn’t flinch. Just nodded. “Good.”
And then—
The bond flared—hot, electric, unbearable.
Not from proximity.
Not from magic.
From truth.
“She’s not done,” I said, stepping back, my storm-gray eyes burning. “She’ll try again. She’ll lie. She’ll manipulate. And if we’re not ready—”
“Then we’ll be ready,” Kael said, stepping forward, his golden eyes burning. “Because we’re not what we were. We’re not what they expected. We’re the storm. And if she thinks she can stand in our way—” his voice dropped, “—then she doesn’t know what we are.”
And then—
We turned.
Not away from the war room.
Not toward the door.
Toward the future.
***
That night, I dreamed of fire.
Not the kind that burns.
The kind that cleanses.
And in the center of it—
Us.
Standing in the flames, our scars glowing, our fangs bared, our presence a solid wall against the silence.
And when I woke—
Kael was there.
His hand in mine.
The bond pulsing—hot, electric, alive.
And I knew.
This wasn’t over.
But we would be ready.
Because we were not what we were.
We were not what they expected.
We were the storm.
And we would burn the world down.