"I am my father's son after all," I say, mounting my shadow steed. "And it is time the Light Court remembered exactly what that means."
As we ride away from the devastated clearing, I do not look back. I cannot bear to witness the destruction where I lost everything for the second time.
This time, there will be no recovery. No slow healing. No redemption.
Only darkness remains. Only vengeance.
And for the Shadow Lord of the Twilight Mountains, vengeance will be absolute.
The forest collapses behind us, centuries of growth reduced to rubble in moments. Like my heart. Like my future. Like the last fragment of humanity I had dared to nurture.
All gone now.
All that remains is the darkness—and the promise of blood to come.
CHAPTER 35
ASHES OF THE BOND
Seraphina
A few hours earlier
THE BOUNDARY FOREST looms before me, a tangled mass of ancient trees marking the edge of Malakai's domain.
I enter on foot, pushing through dense undergrowth until exhaustion forces me to rest. A small glade opens before me, moss-covered stones arranged in a natural circle. Dawn breaks in pale fingers through the canopy as I collapse against one of the ancient stones, my legs giving out beneath me.
Hours pass. I drift in and out of consciousness, the emotional and physical toll of the journey catching up at last. My Omega instincts whimper constantly—wrong wrong wrong, go back, find Alpha, go back—but I force them down, needing time to think clearly without his emotions flooding through the bond.
When I fully wake, the sun has climbed higher, dappling the glade with golden light. I reach into my pocket, fingers closing around the crystal vial Ivy gave me. The Blood Severance Elixir. The escape route I thought I needed.
The iridescent purple contents swirl like a miniature storm when I hold it up to the light. So small a thing to hold such devastating power.
I stare at it for a long moment, turning it over in my hands.
Then I cork it firmly and tuck it back into my pocket.
No.
The certainty settles over me like a weight lifting rather than descending. This isn't the answer. Running isn't the answer. Severing our bond and losing myself in the process—that's not protecting our child. That's just... running away from the problem instead of facing it.
I think of Julia's final words: Forgive me, beloved. She thought her death would save him. Thought her sacrifice would break the curse. But it didn't work. The curse remained, and Malakai spent centuries alone, broken, believing he'd killed her.
I won't make her mistake.
I love him. The realization crashes through me with startling clarity. Despite everything—despite the fear, despite the danger, despite the unstable shadows—I love him. I love the way he created shadow butterflies for orphaned children. I love how he holds me in the darkness like I'm something precious. I love his vulnerability when he thinks I'm sleeping, the way he whispers my name like a prayer.
And I'm carrying his child. Our child. A piece of both of us.
We need to face this together. The curse, the instability, whatever darkness his father planted in him—we fight it together, or we don't fight it at all.
I need to go back. I need to tell him about the baby. I need to tell him I'm not running, that I'm not afraid of him, that we'll find a way through this.
I push myself to my feet, wincing at the stiffness in my legs. My throat is parched—I haven't had water since the inn. I need to find a stream, clean myself up, then head back to the palace.
Back to Malakai.
Back home.
