“Exactly unlike Crane’s work.” Elena’s expression hardens. “He’s secure now, properly contained, and will face justice for his crimes. But more importantly, every prisoner he created has been fully restored to their original forms thanks to your work with the Matrix. That’s twenty-seven lives saved, Lyra. Twenty-seven families made whole again.”
The weight of that accomplishment settles over me—heavier than I expected but satisfying. We didn’t just survive. We won. Saved people. Made a real difference.
“There’s more,” Keira adds. “While you were in the ritual, we received word from other territories. Three more of Crane’s black sites have been located using information from the interrogations. Joint teams are mobilizing to raid them simultaneously, free any prisoners, and shut down the operations permanently.”
“Following your example,” Elena says. “Your success here—both the tactical assault and the healing reversals—has given the integration council a template for dealing with these facilities. You’ve quite literally written the playbook that will save countless lives.”
Magnus’s arm tightens around me. “But we’re not required to participate in those raids.”
“No,” Keira confirms. “You’ve both more than fulfilled your duties. If you choose to rest, to establish your life together, no one will question it.” She pauses. “However, if you’re willing to advise, to consult on strategy and healing protocols, your expertise would be invaluable.”
I look at Magnus, and through our new permanent bond, we share the decision without words. We’re tired of fighting, ready for peace. But we also understand that the skills we’ve developed, the knowledge we’ve gained, could save lives if shared properly.
“Consultation,” Magnus says. “Advice and training for others. But we’re not going on raids ourselves. Not for a while at least. We’ve earned some time to rest.”
“More than earned it,” Elena agrees warmly. “Take all the time you need. The integration will be here when you’re ready to contribute again.”
The witnesses disperse, leaving Magnus and me alone in the ceremonial space. The ice candles have melted, the sacred furs are still glowing faintly with residual power, and the air itself feels charged with the magic we released.
“So,” Magnus says softly. “What do we do now?”
I consider the question. We’ve completed the life-bond, survived impossible odds, freed prisoners, defeated the villain, and changed the future itself through our choices. We’re heroes, symbols, representatives of successful integration.
But right now, I don’t want to be any of those things.
“Now?” I curl into him, letting our bond hum contentedly between us. “Now we sleep. And tomorrow we start figuring out what our actual life looks like when we’re not constantly fighting for survival.”
“Just life,” Magnus muses. “No missions, no dangers, no mad scientists. Just us, building something normal.”
“Well, as normal as life gets for a bonded pair of unprecedented evolutionary significance,” I amend with a smile.
He laughs—rich and genuine and full of the joy of being alive when he shouldn’t be. “I love you, Lyra Starling. My mate. My partner. My life.”
“I love you too, Magnus Ironwood. My mate. My heart. My home.”
We stay in the ceremonial space for a while longer, neither willing to move just yet. Through the bond, I feel his contentment matching mine, his wonder at what we’ve become, his absolute certainty that this—us, together, permanently—is exactly where we’re meant to be.
20
MAGNUS
Iwake to the sensation of being fundamentally changed.
The life-bond ritual is complete, the ceremonial space quiet now except for Lyra’s breathing beside me. Through our new permanent connection, I feel her consciousness—not just her emotions but her thoughts, her awareness, her very essence intertwined with mine.
We’re one being in two bodies, exactly as the ritual promised.
I sit up carefully, testing my body. The toxin is gone completely—not just neutralized but purged at the cellular level. The berserker damage that should have killed me has been reversed, my pathways restored and actually strengthened. I feel better than I did before the fight, before the injury, possibly better than I’ve ever felt.
But it’s the other changes that make me pause.
My ice magic feels different now—still fundamentally mine, still cold and crystalline, but carrying electrical properties it never had before. When I summon frost to my hand, tiny lightning traces through it, storm and ice merged into something unprecedented.
And beneath my conscious awareness, I feel something new: precognitive flashes, brief glimpses of immediate futures branching from each decision. Not as strong as Lyra’s gift, but present. Real. Her storm-touched heritage flowing through me just as my ice magic now flows through her.
“You feel it too,” Lyra says softly, sitting up beside me. Her hands glow with healing light, but the silver-blue is shot through with crystalline patterns now—frost and lightning working together. “It’s more than a bond. We merged. Became something new.”
“Something stronger,” I agree, pulling her close. Through the bond, I feel her wonder matching mine, her joy that we survived, her absolute certainty that this—us, permanently connected—is exactly right.
