Light.
Warm. Golden. Endless.
I opened my eyes with a gasp, half expecting it to be a dream. But she was there. Lying beside me, her hair a tangle of burnished flame, her skin still glowing faintly with magic that wasn’t entirely her own anymore.
Cleo.
She stirred, a soft sound in the back of her throat. Her eyes fluttered open—and for a moment, I saw the Rift reflected in them. Depthless. Wild. Sacred.
She turned to me, and her voice was a whisper. “I can hear them.”
I reached for her hand. “Who?”
“The shadows.” Her fingers curled into mine. “They’re quiet. But they’re still there. Like they’re… watching.”
I should’ve panicked.
I didn’t.
Because I could feel it too.
Not the way she did—no whispers in the dark—but apresence. A tether. Our bond had snapped into place with a finality that went deeper than blood or vow.
We weren’t just connected.
We werefused.
Two souls no longer separate.
“I see light,” I said softly. “When I blink. When I breathe. Like your fire got stuck under my skin.”
She gave a small smile. “You’re welcome.”
A laugh escaped me, breathless and raw.
Footsteps echoed through the chamber.
Kassio emerged from the shadows at the edge of the hall, cloak torn, one arm bleeding, but upright. He looked at the Rift—silent, sealed—and then at us. His expression was unreadable.
“You two,” he said, his voice flat, “are either insane… or gods.”
“We’ve been called worse,” I muttered.
He knelt beside us and dropped a satchel between us. “Water. Salve. Runes to monitor your pulse.”
Cleo tilted her head. “No cupcakes?”
Kassio arched a brow. “You just fused your souls in front of a sleeping apocalypse and closed a gate no one’s touched since the Sundering. I think I get to skip the baked goods.”
Cleo grinned.
Kassio’s expression softened, just a touch. “The Tower is reeling. The Circle is fractured. But they saw it. What you did.”
He looked at the gate. Then at us.
“I declare you,” he said, standing tall, “the Watchers of the Rift.”
The words settled like truth in the air.
