“So did she.” Finn steps forward, chaos magic sparking. “So did all of us. Before you forced bonds that weren’t ready to form.” He laughs without humor. “You trapped us all—not just her. Made decisions for people who should have had a choice. And now you’re angry because we kept one truth from you? That’s rich.”
Kieran’s hands flex. “I was protecting—”
“Yourself,” I interrupt quietly. “You were protecting yourself from knowing something that would force you to question whether you made the right call.”
His eyes snap to mine. For a moment, I think he might unleash the full weight of his power. Instead, he just looks tired.
“You should have told me,” he says again, softer.
“And you should have asked,” Torric shoots back. “Asked if we wanted these bonds. Asked if she was ready. Asked literally anything before you trapped us all in connections we can’t undo.”
Carl tumbles out of a nearby tree with a scroll clutched in his shadowy grip, landing in an undignified heap. He scrambles up, salutes Bob with obvious pride, and presents his “intel” with earnest determination. Bob takes one look at the blank parchment and his form visibly deflates with disappointment.
The absurdity of it cuts through some of the tension.
Kaia steps forward. Her shadows move with her—Bob at her right, Mouse at her left, Patricia hovering near her shoulder. The newer recruits form a protective semicircle behind her, their movements slightly off-sync but earnest.
“This isn’t about you, Kieran.” She looks around at all of us. “Or any of you. This is about him.” She gestures toward Darian without looking at him. “And what happens next is my decision. Not yours. Not theirs. Mine.”
“Kaia—”
“I’m not asking permission.” Her violet eyes blaze. “I’m telling you how this is going to work. He’s my bond. My problem. My choice.”
Kieran studies her for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression—resignation, maybe. Or respect.
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
The finality in her voice ends the discussion.
Kieran nods once. Sharp. Then turns and walks away, ancient power trailing him like a cloak.
His absence leaves the air thin, like the world is waiting to exhale.
“Well,” Finn says into the silence. “That went great.”
I turn my attention to Darian. He’s been silent through the entire exchange, watching with carefully neutral expression except for the faint tremor in his bound hands.
“He followed the bond,” I say. “Straight to us.”
Kaia goes still.
“We can use that,” I add.
Cold spreads across the ground.
She meets my gaze. Understanding passes between us—gratitude, maybe. Or just acknowledgment that sometimes mercy needs an excuse.
“Fine,” Torric says finally. “But I’m burning him if he so much as looks at her wrong.”
“Get in line,” Finn adds.
Malrik’s shadows still. Then, quietly: “We’ll hold him.”
We fall in behind her. Nothing else matters.
Linda appears beside Bob, placing what looks like a shadowy hand on his shoulder—reminding him to stand down now that the crisis has passed. Several of the newer shadows mirror the gesture with each other, as if they’re learning from her example. Walter drifts upside down for a moment, inspecting Darian like a puzzle before bobbing away to investigate a nearby rock.
