We emerge into cool shaft where magma pulse dims to orange whispers. Beyond archway lies a cavern balcony opening to Feramundi’s night sky—a swirl of amethyst clouds glowing from within, cracks of silver lightning weaving silent embroidery. I draw breath free of sulfur; starlight floods senses. Crystal at throat sings, harmonizing with horizon.
Kylan follows gaze. “Never thought I’d call that view peaceful.”
“Balance looks strange the first time,” I answer, voice steadier. He chuckles, brushes nose against my temple. We step onto balcony stone. Wind flutters cloak edges, scattering lingering ash into the void, tiny meteors trailing spark tails as they fall toward far valley.
“Listen,” he murmurs.
I close eyes. Over wind, over distant magma pops, I hear it: multiple heartbeats woven into one slow drum. Pack in tunnel, fae in Twilight Forest clearing fissures, Remi and Zale standing on scorched shore, Everest and Isabelle beneath glass dunes. Even spectral wolves whine softly. Harmonies ride realm currents back to us. My chest fills until cracks threaten.
“I thought love would bind,” I confess. “Instead it widened everything.”
He turns me to face him fully. Lantern light halos his silhouette; molten sky frames broad shoulders. “A bond worth keeping makes room, not walls.” He prises my fingers from the collar, guiding them to rest over his heart, still thundering from exertion. “You found space for a feral alpha. I found gratitude in sorrow’s wake. That circle feeds itself.”
Moisture blurs view again; heat of ritual evaporates tears before they travel far. I trace lines on his sternum—sigil echoes burned there by earlier rune light. “I accept,” I whisper.
Kylan tilts my chin, lips hovering. “Accept what?”
“That love is circle,” I state, crystal vibrating with each consonant. “I feared it was chain. It is mirror—reflects what you pour, then returns it stronger.” Voice hitches, but words land whole.
His kiss seals statement. It is gentle, tasting of ash and relief. A howl rises from wolves below; they add harmony rather than rowdy celebration—this night still sacred. Kylan lifts head, answers with low wolf call vibrating through chest; I feel echo in the crystal, each note carving memory.
We return inside when wind grows sharp, rejoining team near supply cache. Rowan hands mugs of spiced root tea. Kylan grumbles about scent but downs half. I cradle mine, savoring heat against gemstone collar.
Holt unfurls a charmap, rune needles now glowing alignment green instead of blood red. “Convergence windows closing evenly. Projection shows stability for next millennia segment.” His grin splits weathered face. “I’ll take that.”
I nod and add, “Keep perimeter watchers. Shade remnants may test boundaries.” My voice rasped but audible; wolves exchange glances of relief.
Kylan announces, “At first light we send runners to Council with confirmation. Then we rest.” Murmurs of agreement.
As pack disperses to roll bedrolls along cooler ledges, Kylan draws me aside to small alcove. He spreads his cloak on flat rock, coaxes me down. My muscles quake from ordeal, yet I sit easily. He positions himself behind, spine to wall, pulls me between knees so my back rests against his chest.
Silence lingers while we sip last of tea. Crystal taking throat pulses with slower glow now, like banked coals. I study it—beauty within curse. “I don’t know how long the pause will last,” I murmur.
He slips arms around waist, thumbs stroking ribcage. “However long, we live it fully.” He presses a kiss just above collar formation, lips warm on cool facets. The crystal brightens a fraction as though responding to affection, not conquest.
Somewhere deep in cave, magma pops again. The sound carries memory of Narkarath’s roars, now muted. For the first time in centuries I am not only witness to fate; I am co-author. That knowledge burns brighter than any star.
Sleep tries to nudge eyelids closed but I resist a moment longer. I reach into inner pocket, withdraw sliver of star-glassfrom center rune earlier. I prise open Kylan’s palm and place it there. “Token,” I say. “Reminder circle remains.”
He folds fingers around shard. “And if fear returns?” he asks.
“Then we listen to heartbeat mantra.” I lay head back against shoulder, feeling pulse under jaw where bite marks rest. “It lives in both bodies now.”
He hums. I drift, listening to humming—pack lullaby, realm hum, conduit of love not chain. As consciousness slides toward dream realm, last thought forms: prophecy cannot outpace choice where hearts refuse to surrender. The shattered future I always foresaw will never wear same shape again.
Crystal sparks once, soft as northern aurora, then settles. I breathe easy, anchored by alpha arms and infinite circle drawn tonight.
Beyond balcony, Convergence star begins slow slide from perfect alignment, balance settling into fresh groove. The world keeps turning. We turn with it—together.
28
KYLAN
Sleep refuses to hold me. Instead, somewhere between the slow breathing of my wolves and the faint drip of a cooling stalactite, a tug lifts me straight out of my body and into brightness.
One instant I sit against the wall of the cavern, Carmilla dozing in the circle of my arms, and the next I rise—no, unfold—into a place without stone or heat or proper distance. Tri-vector ley-space, the sages call it: the astral overlay where every boundary ever carved by gods or mortals hovers like paint suspended in water. I have walked dream paths before, yet nothing like this—three directions for every step, every color glimpsed from every possible angle at once.
I breathe, and that single act ripples silver threads through infinity.
