I shift mid-leap, snow leopard form exploding into being, wings spreading for speed and power. I hit the first Broken before it can react, claws tearing through its shoulder, spinning to use its body as a shield against the others.
Lyra moves simultaneously, her light targeting the Broken’s nervous systems. They crumple, not dead but incapacitated, removing Crane’s hostage leverage.
But Crane himself is faster than he should be, stronger than his degraded form seems to allow. He’s used something—some remaining dose of his toxins, some final modification—to push his chimera abilities past safety limits.
He comes at me with raptor talons extended, bear strength behind the blow, and even in leopard form I barely dodge. His claws rake across my flank, and I feel toxin flood my system immediately. Not the same formulation as before—this is concentrated, designed to overwhelm even someone with built-up resistance.
The fight becomes desperate. I’m trying to protect Lyra, protect the prisoners, and protect myself from toxin that’srapidly spreading through my bloodstream. Crane fights with the fury of someone who has nothing left to lose, throwing himself at us with reckless abandon.
“The Mountain Cat berserker technique!” Keira’s voice cuts through the chaos. She’s arrived with reinforcements, warriors flooding the healing dens. “Ironwood, use it now!”
The berserker technique—a last-resort method that burns through a Mountain Cat’s reserves in exchange for temporary massive power increase. Dangerous, potentially fatal, but it’s the only way to match Crane’s suicidal enhancement.
I reach for it, letting ice magic flood my system beyond safe limits. My body temperature drops catastrophically, frost forming on my fur, my eyes glowing with pure cold light. The toxin in my blood freezes, slowing its spread but not stopping it.
Power surges through me, and I move faster than thought, hitting Crane with everything I have. We crash through equipment, through walls, our fight spilling into the corridor beyond. Other warriors try to help, but we’re moving too fast, hitting too hard, locked in a battle that only one of us will walk away from.
I’m winning. The berserker technique gives me the edge I need, and Crane’s forced enhancement is degrading rapidly. But the cost is catastrophic—I can feel my body beginning to fail, the berserker state consuming me from within while the toxin works to corrupt what’s left.
With a final surge of strength, I pin Crane to the ground, my jaws at his throat. He laughs—broken, bitter, mad to the end.
“You’re dying,” he whispers. “Even if you kill me, you’re dying. The toxin and the berserker state together—no one survives that combination. You’ve traded your life for mine.”
He’s right. I can feel it—my heart struggling, my shifting pathways jamming, my magic fracturing. This is the momentLyra saw in her visions. The moment where I take mortal wounds protecting her and everyone else.
“Worth it,” I manage, and I mean it. If my death buys safety for Lyra, for the prisoners, for the future we’ve been building—that’s a trade I’ll make every time.
Keira appears, taking custody of Crane. “Medical team! Ironwood is critical!”
I shift back to human form, and that’s when the real pain hits. Everything hurts—every cell, every nerve, every pathway. The toxin is spreading faster now that I’m not in berserker state, and my body is shutting down from the combined assault.
Lyra is there immediately, her hands glowing with desperate healing light. “No. No, Magnus, you don’t get to die. Not after everything. Not now.”
“The toxin,” I gasp. “Combined with berserker... too much damage...”
“I don’t care.” Her voice breaks with determination and terror. “You’re mine. I’m not letting you go.”
Through the bond, I feel her assessing me, understanding the extent of the damage. And I feel the moment she makes her decision—the same one she made in her visions, the path that leads to transformation rather than death.
“The life-bond,” she says. “We’re doing it now. Here. The formal ritual, complete and permanent.”
“Lyra, you don’t have to?—”
“Yes, I do.” She’s already giving orders to the surrounding warriors. “Clear this space. I need privacy, sacred materials, and someone to witness who understands Mountain Cat bonding ceremonies.”
Keira steps forward. “I’ll witness. Elder Frost, prepare the ritual components.”
“This is insane,” I manage, even as they’re moving me to a cleared space, arranging furs, lighting ceremonial candles made of ice. “The life-bond requires both parties at full strength?—”
“It requires both parties willing to give everything,” Lyra corrects, and through our bond I feel her absolute certainty. “And I’m willing. Are you?”
I look at her—this woman who’s saved me repeatedly, who sees my death coming and refuses to accept it, who’s about to attempt a ritual that could kill us both in a desperate bid to save my life.
“Always,” I whisper. “I’m always willing. For you.”
“Then trust me one more time.” She strips off her shirt, helping me out of mine, preparing us for the ritual that will merge us completely or destroy us both trying.
I agree, even as my vision starts to gray at the edges.
