The question hangs between us, unanswered and perhaps unanswerable.
“Whatever you’re afraid of,” Elena continues, “you’re stronger than you think. And you won’t be facing it alone. Magnus Ironwood might surprise you. Sometimes the people who seem most rigid are the ones capable of the greatest evolution.”
I want to tell her that I’m not afraid for him, not for myself. But the words stick in my throat like ice.
“Get some rest,” Elena says, squeezing my shoulder gently. “Dawn will come whether you’re ready or not. Better to meet it with clear eyes and steady hands.”
I nod, standing to leave. At the door, I turn back. “Elena? Thank you. For everything.”
“Always,” she says, already returning to her research. “That’s what pack is for—even the extended, integrated version we’re building.”
The corridor feels colder after the warmth of her lab. I’m so lost in thought that I nearly collide with someone coming around the corner. Wings flare for balance—bronze-gold feathers catching the moonlight through the windows.
“Zara,” I say, stepping back quickly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching?—”
“No harm done.” Kael’s sister steadies herself with characteristic grace. She’s carrying an armful of reports, probably heading to the archive room for late-night filing. But her gaze sharpens as she takes in my expression. “You look troubled.”
“It’s nothing. Just pre-mission nerves.”
Zara tilts her head, bronze-gold hair shifting like liquid metal. She has her brother’s penetrating gaze, the kind that sees beneath surfaces to the truth below. “Nerves. Is that what we’re calling it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She steps closer, voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “I mean that some of us see more than others. Some of us carry burdens that feel too heavy to share. And some of us forget that protection doesn’t always mean distance.”
My heart stutters. “Zara?—”
“I’m not asking questions,” she says quickly. “I’m not demanding truths you’re not ready to give. I’m just saying that sometimes the thing we think will destroy us is actually whatsaves us. Sometimes standing close enough to shield each other is better than standing apart and facing the storm alone.”
She shifts her reports to one arm, reaching out to touch my hand briefly. The contact is warm, grounding. “Trust that you’re exactly where you need to be, Lyra. Even if you can’t see why yet.”
Before I can respond, she’s moving past me down the corridor, leaving me with words that echo too closely to what I fear most. Protection through proximity. But I’ve seen what proximity to me costs, my mind vividly replaying Magnus’s silver eyes dulling as his heart stops, my desperate attempts to heal him failing.
I return to my quarters, mind churning. The small space feels simultaneously too confined and too empty. My medical supplies are already packed, laid out with obsessive precision. Field kit, emergency treatments, supplies for everything from broken bones to toxic exposure. I check them again, then again, as if perfect preparation might somehow change what’s coming.
The carved ice crystal still sits on my desk, catching moonlight. I pick it up, letting its familiar weight center me. This has been my ritual since childhood, using meditation focus to ground myself after visions. But tonight, even this brings no peace.
I think of way Magnus’s magic rose to meet mine without conscious control, ice and storm creating something beautiful and terrible between us. He felt it too. I saw the recognition in his expression, quickly suppressed but undeniable.
Mountain Cats mate for life. Elena mentioned that during her briefing, part of the cultural overview she insisted all integration workers understand. They choose once, permanently, with absolute certainty required from both parties. No casual relationships, no testing compatibility. For them, either you’re mates or you’re nothing.
The thought should be reassuring. Magnus won’t pursue anything without that certainty, and I’m showing none of the signs of mate recognition. He’ll keep his distance, maintain professional boundaries. We’ll complete the mission and part ways, and maybe I can keep him alive by staying far enough away that fate can’t use me as the catalyst for his death.
But my traitorous mind keeps circling back to how his magic felt against mine. Like coming home. Like recognition. Like everything I’ve been running from my entire life.
I set down the ice crystal and move to my bed, though sleep feels impossible. Tomorrow at dawn, I leave with Magnus Ironwood to track missing traders and uncover what’s hunting them in the frozen north. Tomorrow, I start walking the path my vision showed me, toward blood on snow and silver eyes growing dark.
But maybe Elena is right. Maybe the things we fear most are what set us free. Maybe knowledge of the future isn’t a curse but a tool, if I’m brave enough to use it.
I close my eyes, trying to find some semblance of rest. In a few hours, Magnus will be waiting at the departure platform, all contained power and suspicious assessment. He’ll expect a soft civilized healer who’ll slow him down. Instead, he’ll get someone who’s seen his death and will do anything to prevent it, even if it means discovering that the protection I’ve built around my heart through distance and denial isn’t protection at all, but just another kind of cage.
Dawn can’t come fast enough, and yet I wish it would never come at all.
4
MAGNUS
Two days into our journey, and the woman is still matching my pace.
