Mykaevûnsprings free, thick and aching, kaersin leaking everywhere.
I line myself up at her entrance.
Three thousand years of waiting. And she’s here.
Beneath me.
Ready.
Mine.
I start to push inside?—
THWIP.
A sharp hiss of air hits my face. She winces. My head snaps up, and I see a little purple dart sticking from her thigh.
The familiar chemical scent hits me immediately. It’s the same thrahking sedative as before. She blinks slowly, and her body slackens beneath me.
“No,” I snarl, lifting her into my arms.
Not again.
Not a-thrahking-gain.
23
PLEASE DON’T LEAVE
Andrik-
She doesn’t wake. Not as the minutes bleed into hours. Not as the storm rages outside, and night folds over the forest like a shroud.
I sit beside her with my claws sheathed and my breath shallow, listening to the soft catch of hers. Each inhale is a blade, each exhale a reprieve.
Her skin is too pale.
I press my palm flat to her chest just to feel the rise and fall. I can feel the bond trying to knit, threads catching on each pulse... but never tying off.
“Forgive me,” I whisper, “This never should’ve happened. I should have waited. I knew better. I should’ve known he’d try to take you from me again.”
I can’t take my eyes off the soft curve of her lips—the faint freckle on her cheek.
Mine.Still mine.
I don’t want to move from her side, but I can’t sit still. I move through the room in silence, gathering what I need: a bowl, matches, and the snowdrop she picked from the clearing. I slicea thin line across my palm with one claw and let it drip into the bowl, mixing it with a handful of snow and some of the petals. The paste thickens too fast—coagulating like the forest already knows what I’m about to ask for.
I fall to my knees beside her body, “This is the oldest rite I know,” I murmur, voice rough from the tears I’m holding back. “One soul calls the other back. One stays awake through the dark.”
I dip my fingers in the paste. It’s thick. Cold. Clinging to my skin like grief.
“Don’t leave me, Lumi,” I whisper. “Saelûn...please?—”
I press trembling fingers to her sternum and begin to draw. A spiral ring of thorns and snowdrops circles across her chest. At the center, I drag a jagged infinity loop—my side broken, hers smooth. A bond interrupted. Finally, I shape theveyrûnflame, a six-pointed snowflake, its tips trailing into fire. It rests directly above her heart, and I exhale frost across it to seal it in place.
The sigil hisses, crystallizes, then glows faintly blue. It sparks beneath my fingers, sharp and punishing. The light flares—then lashes outward like lightning. My hand jerks back, but not fast enough. The spiral ring sears itself into my palm like molten frost, carving its twin into my skin.
I grit my teeth as pain races up my arm. It’s not blood that drips this time—it’s light. Pale blue and smoking. The forest knows the rite wasn’t meant to be invoked before the bond was fully sealed. It demands a price. I clench my fist and hold it against my chest.“Veyr’thalin etra’saev,’ I whisper through clenched teeth.Sacred blood remembers, and mine would burn for her—until every last drop sizzled from my body.
