The sundress I chose was practical for Destima’s heat—flowy fabric in soft cream that draped elegantly over the soft swell of my belly, light enough to breathe in but substantial enough to feel put-together. Zirene had always liked me in flowing things. Said I looked like starlight caught in silk.
I smoothed the fabric over my stomach, feeling the faint flutter of movement beneath.Soon,I thought.Soon you’ll be here, and I’ll have even more reason to be strong.
The morning air carried the scent of blooming vines and distant salt from the sea beyond our grounds. Xylo fell into step beside me as we crossed the villa, his presence steady and grounding. The cubs were still asleep—a rare mercy—and the household staff moved in quiet efficiency, preparing for another day of barely-controlled chaos.
Ryzen waited in the meditation garden in my backyard.
He stood motionless beneath the pergola, his eight spirit daggers hanging perfectly still around him—not orbiting, not drifting, justsuspended.A sign of absolute focus. The emerald glow from his runes cast faint patterns across the stone beneath his feet, and his eyes were closed, face turned toward the rising sun.
Those eyes opened when I approached.
The way he looked at me stopped my breath.
It wasn’t the cold assessment I’d grown accustomed to from him, nor the careful distance he’d maintained since the bond formed between us. This was something rawer. Hungrier. As if I’d walked into the garden glowing—as if I was light itself, and he’d been standing in darkness for far too long.
His daggers shivered back into motion, a slow orbit that betrayed his disrupted concentration.
“You came.” His voice was rough, as if the words had scraped past something sharp on the way out.
“I said I would.”
Through our thin connection, I felt something shift in him. Relief, maybe. Or hope. It was hard to read Ryzen at the best of times, but this morning his walls seemed thinner—worn down by grief, by distance, by the aching void where his brother should have been.
Xenak. The name sat between us unspoken. Captured by the Verya. Unreachable except through mental connection that grew weaker by the day.
Xylo stepped forward. “The sun will be brutal by midmorning. Perhaps we should move to the gazebo? The shade is better underneath there.” He gestured toward the structure at the garden’s edge, where climbing vines created a cool canopy. My villa’s private pool sat on the other side. “Less chance of overheating during intense mental work.”
Ryzen’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He didn’t like being directed—didn’t like anyone suggesting he hadn’t already considered every variable. But he nodded once, and his daggers fell into formation around him as he moved.
Xylo led the way, and I followed, hyper-aware of Ryzen’s presence at my back. Through our bond, I caught fragments of his thoughts—not words, but impressions. The way the sunlight caught my dress. The curve of my belly beneath the fabric. The determination in my stride despite everything weighing on my shoulders.
He saw me as a lifeline. The realization hit with startling clarity.
Not just someone to train. Not just his brother’s best hope of rescue.A lifeline.Something to hold onto when everything else was drowning.
Xylo was right. The gazebo offered blessed shade. Xylo settled onto one of the cushioned couches at the periphery, giving us space while remaining close enough to intervene if needed. His medical kit sat open beside him, ready.
Ryzen gestured to the cushioned seat at the center. “Sit. This will require focus, and I’d rather you not fall when you inevitably push too hard.”
“Your faith in me is inspiring.”
His mouth twitched—almost a smile. “My faith in your stubbornness is boundless. Your common sense, less so.”
I sat, the cushions soft beneath me, and Ryzen lowered himself onto the chair across from me. His daggers settled into a loose orbit, their emerald glow dimming to something more ambient. Less weapon, more meditation aid.
“Mental range,” he began, his voice falling into the measured cadence of instruction, “is like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it becomes. But like any muscle, pushing past your limits too fast will cause damage.”
“I remember. From the Harvest Festival.” When he’d helped me reach my Primaries across an impossible distance. When our minds had touched for the first time and neither of us had been prepared for the intimacy of it.
“This will be different.” His gaze held mine, steady and unblinking. “What I taught you then was emergency triage—a quick boost to reach those already connected to you. What we’re doing now is building foundation. Strengthening your base range so you can maintain connections across any distance, alone without any help.”
“Show me.”
He held out his hand, palm up. “First exercise: reach for me. Deliberately. Not through the bond we already share—through active mental projection. I want to feel you coming before you arrive.”
I closed my eyes and extended my awareness.
My mental web unfurled—the constellation of bonds that defined my existence now. Kaede, a cold fierce pulse somewhere in the mountain base, sharp and vigilant. V’dim and Z’fir, in the war room, probably speaking with Zirene and the rest of the commanders. Xylo nearby, teal and steady. Odelm’s gentle jade presence. The faint crimson thread of Zyxel, still new enough to make my heart ache.
