Dane moves beside me, positioning himself between us.
Faelan eyes him with mild curiosity. “Still here, Guardian? Your blood must be screaming to leave.”
He reaches toward the suspended wolf again, fingers lightly brushing the boy’s cheek. The circuit flares in response, each filament brightening. The wolf twitches, face contorting in silent pain.
Dane steps forward, blocking Faelan’s reach.
Faelan doesn’t fight the interruption. Instead, he smiles—a small, knowing expression—and turns his attention back to me.
“Watch,” he says softly.
He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t move closer. But I feel something pull inside—a thread I didn’t know existed, connected to the silver scar. My body recognizes the tug. Responds. My hand lifts without my permission, palm turning upward, fingers spreading.
The circuit pulses brighter. The suspended bodies shudder in unison.
The scar splits open—not physically, but energetically. Something flows both ways through the connection.
I close my fist, fighting the pull. But the tether doesn’t break.
It was never broken.
Chapter 39
Dane
Nova’s palm turns upward without her control. The circuit brightens. Her scar pulses with silver light. Not just responding to the energy but synchronizing with it.
I step closer, keeping my movements steady.
“Nova.” My voice is low. Steady. “Look at me.”
Her eyes flicker toward me, then back to Faelan. The mark throbs visibly now, a silver heartbeat pulsing up her arm.
“My father,” she says, her voice strained but controlled. “You said you placed him. What does that mean?”
Faelan’s smile is serene, patient. “A vessel. A delivery mechanism. He served his purpose before you were even born.” He tilts his head. “Did you think he loved your mother? He was following instructions he didn’t know he had.”
Nova’s face goes pale, but her voice stays steady. “And my mother?”
“Tried to hide you. Buried your light under human skin.” His eyes gleam. “But blood always finds its purpose, Nyvariel. Always.”
Nova’s fingers twitch. The circuit surrounding us pulses faster. The suspended bodies shudder in unison: the hikers, the wolves, all of them caught in the pattern Faelan built.
Something shifts in the air behind us. A pressure drop. A distortion.
I feel it before I hear it. The breach widening.
The tear splits open, and Rafe steps through first. No sound, no hesitation. He slides into the Fade like he was born in it, movements precise and contained. His eyes scan the tableau, taking in the suspended bodies, the circuit, and Faelan’s position in three quick glances.
Kari comes through next—and the Fade breaks her.
She staggers, blood already streaming from her nose, spattering the front of her torn jacket. A gash across her cheekbone weeps red, evidence of the fight to reach the breach. Her knife stays raised through sheer will, but her arm trembles. She doubles over, retching, then forces herself upright. Her eyes find the circuit, not Faelan. Even half-destroyed, she reads the threat differently than the rest of us.
Callum and Lyanna emerge together. The Fade recoils from Callum the same way it fights Dane—his angel blood creating ripples of distortion in the air around him. Lyanna moves easier, her fae heritage giving her footing here, but her face is tight with pain. This place is twisted, corrupted. Even for her kind, it’s wrong.
Callum drops to one knee, a sound tearing from his throat that’s more animal than human. Blood pours from his nose, hisears. His hands claw at the ground as reality tries to unmake him. But his eyes—his eyes find Lyanna first. Always her first.
Lyanna stumbles but doesn’t fall. She catches herself on Callum’s shoulder, her own blood dripping down her chin, her other hand pressed to a wound at her ribs that’s soaked through her shirt. They fought to get here. Fought hard.
