Inside, the script is unmistakably my father’s—bold slashes of ink that never leave room for hesitation or questions:
She is not of the line. Her presence threatens the balance. Remember your oath. If the Veil frays, we all fall.
I stare at the words longer than I should, heart pounding hard against ribs that were trained to never bend.
Loyalty isn’t a choice. It’s bred into me. Beaten into me. Loyalty to the Kitsune line. To the shifter clans that protect the Veil with fang and flame. To the old codes.
But Lindsay…she isn’t what they think. Hell, she's not what I thought she was at first either.
She isn’t completely reckless. She’s trying. And the magic inside her—it isn’t dark. It’s just untrained. Wild. Raw. I can helpher with that. Ihaveto help her. That’s why the tether chose me. I know it. Ifeelit.
I saw it before I even reached the classroom.
One second, I was heading back from the training wing, and the next, I wasinthe room. My vision blurred, hijacked by a pulse of magic that slammed into my chest like lightning. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. I was trapped in her body, seeing what she saw—the rupture in the Veil bleeding into the world. The mark on her skin blazing like a sun. Her hand lifting on instinct. Her fear. Her focus. Herpower.
It poured out of her, fierce and uncontrolled—but not chaotic. It was like the magic recognized her, bent around her without shattering her. The way she moved… like she belonged to that kind of magic. Or worse—like it belonged toher.
And through it all, I felt it. The pull of the tether, threading us tighter. She didn’t even know I was there, but I did.
I saw everything.Felteverything.
And I knew—I wasn’t just bonded to someone dangerous.
I was bonded to something ancient.
I couldn't reach her in time. But next time, I'll be there.
A snap of branches pulls me back. I tuck the message into the inner lining of my jacket just as footsteps approach.
Kael steps into view, his expression unreadable, wings tucked back. For once, he doesn’t snarl.
“You got one too,” he says, nodding at my message.
It’s not a question.
I nod. “They want me to keep my distance and report anything dangerous.”
“They don’t care about danger,” he mutters. “They care about control.”
We stand in silence for a long moment. Not enemies, but not allies either. Not yet. The air between us feels taut, stretched thin by everything that’s been said, and everything that hasn’t.
“She’s not what they say,” I finally say quietly. “They’re wrong about her.”
Kael’s eyes flick to mine, pale and unreadable. His jaw tightens, muscles ticking like he’s holding back words.
“No,” he says after a beat. “She’s worse.”
He turns like he’s finished, like that’s all he came to say, but he doesn’t walk away.
Not yet.
His gaze lifts toward the sky, where Veil clouds still shimmer faintly blue from the breach that sealed hours ago. “She doesn’t know what’s inside her,” he murmurs. “But it’s waking up. And if it ever fully does…” he trails off, like the end of that sentence is too big to name.
I swallow hard. “You sound afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of her,” he says. “I’m afraid of what will happen because of her. I'm afraid of the people that want to use her. But no, I'm not afraid of her.”
There’s no malice in his words. No hatred. Only something bare and undeniable.
