"I promise," I whisper.
Jade wraps around all three of us who are leaving, demon tail possessive. Skye just holds my hand, his power flowing through the contact like a lifeline.
"Two days," he reminds me. "And you check in constantly. I love you, Rumi."
"I love you too. All of you." I look at each of my mates who are staying behind, memorizing their faces. "Keep each other safe. Keep the sanctuary safe. And I'll be back before you know it."
Then we're walking away, Harlow on one side and Ambrose on the other, heading toward the gates and the mountain path beyond. With each step, the distance stretches between me and the mates I'm leaving behind. It hurts like physical pain.
But I keep walking anyway.
Because some things are worth the discomfort. Some answers are worth any price.
Finding my father is one of them.
26
HARLOW
Thejourneynorthmovesfaster than I expected, thanks to Ambrose's travel contracts. What should take days compresses into hours, the landscape blurring past as his magic bends distance in our favor.
We left Phoenix Sanctuary at dawn. By midday, we're deep in the mountain territories, farther than most Magila travel in a week.
The land between organized communities is dangerous. Not from essence users, but from the lack of them. Wild magic pools in areas no one has claimed, essence manifestations forming without conscious direction, creating hazards that even my death-sight has trouble predicting. The earth itself feels hungry, reaching for any power it can absorb.
"How much farther?" Rumi asks, his balance disrupted since we left Phoenix Sanctuary. His balance nature is unhappy about being separated from half his mates. The black threads in his golden aura are more visible out here, away from the stabilizing presence of our other three.
"We should reach the mountain sanctuary by nightfall," Ambrose answers without looking up from the map covered in his contract markings. The new lines on his face seem deeper in the harsh daylight, and his hands tremble slightly when he's tired. "Assuming we don't run into trouble."
"Define trouble," I say, keeping my voice neutral despite my concern. An hour ago, we skirted around a wild essence manifestation that looked like a storm made of crystallized air. It nearly detected us before Rumi's divine balance soothed it into stillness.
The territories between sanctuaries aren't empty. They're full of essence that has nowhere to go, no consciousness directing it, building until it becomes dangerous.
"How did people live like this before the Council organized everything?" Rumi wonders aloud, his golden wings tucked close against the cold mountain air.
"They didn't," Ambrose says. "Before the Council, before Dmitri's system, essence users formed communities specifically to manage wild essence. The sanctuaries we're visiting are remnants of that old system. Places that never integrated into Dmitri's new order."
My death-sight tracks the essence patterns shifting around us. We're safe for now, protected by Ambrose's contracts and Rumi's divine presence. But that could change at any moment. I stay half-phased into death realm, maintaining watch, my awareness split between the living world and the spaces between.
"You don't sleep anymore," Rumi observes, his golden eyes tracking my translucent form. Those dark threads pulse as he studies me. "Is that a death champion thing?"
"Sort of." I solidify enough to be more visible. "Sleep is for the living. I'm between. I don't need rest the way you do, not since I fully accepted what I am."
"That sounds lonely," Rumi says quietly.
Rumi's not wrong. Being Death's Champion means existing in spaces between life and death, never fully belonging to either. Even with my mates, even with the connections linking us across any distance, part of me is always pulled toward the death realm. Always aware of the souls moving through the void, the futures branching and collapsing, the inevitable end that awaits everyone I love.
It's isolating in ways I don't know how to explain.
"It is sometimes," I admit. "But having you helps. Having all of you. You remind me why I chose life, why I keep choosing it every day."
Rumi shifts closer, his wing brushing against my shoulder. Even in my semi-corporeal state, I can feel his warmth, the balance that exists at his core despite the dark threads trying to disrupt it. "We're glad you chose us."
Distantly, I sense echoes from our three mates back at Phoenix Sanctuary. Stellan's fire, burning steady. Jade's hunger, reaching for us possessively even across the miles. Skye's power, a constant hum of love and worry.
They checked in this morning through Ambrose's communication contracts. The sanctuary is safe. The Council observers haven't arrived yet. Liz is behaving herself, though Jade mentioned he's still watching her closely.
Everything is fine. For now.
