On the fourth night, sleep claimed Roan in fits and starts—brief, restless dozes interrupted by Maddie’s soft breathing and the low, ever-present hum of the web’s magic. At some point, he found himself dreaming, though it felt more like falling, plunging into a darkness that had nothing to do with spiders or silk.
He stood in a field of stars, the ground beneath his feet shifting and insubstantial, like mist. The air was sweet, heavy with the scent of rain and wildflowers. And in the center of it all, a figure waited, tall, robed in white, eyes like silver coins.
Visata.
Roan dropped to one knee, instinct older than memory. “Creator.”
Visata’s voice was the sound of wind through leaves, soft but unyielding. “Roan, faithful warrior with the heart of a servant.”
Roan’s head bowed lower, heart pounding. “Why have you come?”
Roan saw the light around him brighten. “Because you are lost, you are afraid, and you have been given a gift, and you do not know how to accept it.”
Roan’s throat tightened. He knew immediately the “gift” his Creator spoke of. “Maddie—she’s . . . she can’t be. She’s human.”
“Is she?” Visata countered, tilting his head. “Or is she something new? Something the world has never seen before?”
Roan shook his head, frustration burning in his chest. “She can’t be my mate. There hasn’t been a shaman mate since before we left our realm. And for good reason. They are a distraction. The kingdoms have to be tended to like a dumb flock of sheep.” His words were harsh, but he was frustrated. Shamans had come to the human realm because humans had been destroying their own world and each other, and here the humans were again in a mess because of Azure’s greed, not to mention anyone else in league with him.
Roan continued to speak, as if he knew better than Visata what was needed, or what was to be or not to be. “The bond—it’s not supposed to work this way. She deserves someone who can give her all of his attention.” Just saying the words, throwing the idea out there that Maddie should belong to another, was rage inducing. But the presence of his Creator calmed him.
Visata’s voice, though still deep like rolling thunder, softened. “The rules were made for a different time, Roan. The world is changing. The magic is changing. Maddie is the bridge—a path between what was and what will be. She is yours because you need her, because she needs you, because together, you will be a catalyst for change. Just as the Sazzie are now Erosazzie, so shall the Nushawani be called. Together, you are stronger. Her weaknesses will have your strengths, and your weaknesses shall have hers. This union I am making between you shall not be separated by any being, not until death, when you come home to me.”
Roan swallowed, the weight of it settling over him. He dared to hope even as the words poured from his mouth, “I don’t know if I can do this. I’ve been a man with a singular purpose for so long. How do I change who and what I am?”
“You don’t change who you are,” Visata said. “You grow, you improve, you cut away what needs to be cut away, and you graft each other into your lives, becoming one. You protect her. You care for her. You see her—not as a responsibility, but as a partner. That is what it means to be mated. Not to possess, but to belong. Not to rule, but to share.”
Roan closed his eyes, emotion burning raw in his chest. “What if I fail her?”
Visata’s hand landed on Roan’s shoulder, warm and solid. “Then you rise, and you try again. Love is not about never making mistakes. It is about never giving up.”
The dream faded, the stars dissolving into darkness. Roan woke with a start, Maddie still pressed against him, her breath warm on his skin. He let himself draw one long, slow breath, letting the words settle inside him like a promise.
He might fail her; in fact, he knew he would, because he was only flesh and blood. But he would never give up on her—on them. He pressed his lips to her head, something he’d dared todo one other time, and made a quiet vow, “I promise to be yours and only yours. I will live for you, die for you, fight for you, fightwithyou, by your side, at your back and in front of you as your protector. You will want for nothing. I will love you, not just as a feeling but as a choice. Day after day, I will choose you.” He pressed another kiss to her head and then whispered. “I hope you will choose me.”
And for the first time since the spiders had trapped them, Roan believed they might just make it out of this after all. He had a future according to Visata. That meant this wasn’t to be their end.
Chapter Eight
“There is no shortage of evil in the world. It’s around every corner waiting for the unsuspecting, or for those willing to invite it with open arms. Many times, that evil is closer to you than you realize.” ~ Lyric
Lyric stood alone in the antechamber just outside the throne room, her hands clasped behind her back, fingers twisting in the folds of her silk robe. Four days. Four days since Roan’s text. Four days since he and the human—Maddie—had vanished somewhere between where they’d left from and the Kingdom of Silk.
She’d spoken to Taras, Prime of Claws, and told him the truth—or at least a version of it. She hadn’t seen Roan. She hadn’t seen Maddie. What she hadn’t said was that Roan had sent her a message, and what she didn’t dare admit—at least not yet—was that she was starting to think something dark had taken root in the heart of her own kingdom.
Lyric had learned long ago that to survive in Silk was to move with patience. Though Aurelius and Athena were good rulers,they were old and had lived through the wars in Damaria. They were protective of their kingdom, of their members. It was a tight rope that she walked on when having to address issues in the Kingdom of Silk. She’d learned to untangle a web–you started at the edge, not the center. She’d spent days weaving quiet questions through her most trusted contacts. No one knew anything, or if they did, they were too afraid to say. She’d paced the corridors of the estate, watched the servants, and listened to the subtle shift in the hush of the halls—waiting for something to feel right, or at least familiar.
Nothing did.
Now, standing before the heavy doors that separated her from the king and queen, Lyric drew a steadying breath. If there was magic hiding Roan and Maddie, only Athena could see through it. Lyric needed the Queen’s help. She braced herself for the storm she was about to walk into.
The doors swung open with a whoosh, and Lyric stepped inside.
The throne room was all cool shadows and filtered sunlight, gleaming, black marble floors, and a ceiling webbed with actual silver spun silk that she knew was strong enough to hold even a large male. King Aurelius sat straight-backed on his carved throne, a vision of cold elegance and old power. Beside him, Queen Athena was the epitome of regal poise, her dark hair braided with strands of silver, eyes sharp as the edge of a blade.
Lyric bowed, every inch the respectful shaman, a diplomat and representative of Visata. She was powerful, like all shamans, and her job ultimately was to make sure the Kingdom of Silk was operating within the boundaries their Creator had laid out. Regardless of those truths, her stomach twisted. She had to play the game, moving the chess pieces carefully. “Your Majesties. Thank you for seeing me.”
Athena inclined her head, her smile thin as a thread. “You said it was urgent, Shaman Lyric.”
