“Whoever you are,” I call without turning around, “I need a few more minutes.”
The footsteps don’t retreat. Don’t pause. They continue with deliberate, measured precision until they stop at the water’s edge.
I turn, expecting to see Torric’s concerned scowl or Finn’s worried grin.
Instead, I find Callum standing at the shoreline, his silver eyes taking in my exposed shoulders, the way the water clings to my skin, with an assessment that makes my stomach clench.
“You need to leave,” I say, my voice sharper than intended. “Now.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away. Just studies me with the same calculating attention he’s been giving everything else for the past four days.
“You thought hiding in water would protect you?” His voice carries an odd note of amusement, like I’ve done something predictably foolish.
“I’m not hiding.” But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. “I came here to be alone.”
“Did you?” He steps closer to the water’s edge, close enough that I can’t rise without putting myself within his reach. “Or did you come here because the bonds are starting to hurt?”
The question hits like ice water, stealing my breath. How could he possibly know about the ache that’s been building in my chest? The way the connections feel strained, wrong, like they’re pulling in directions that don’t make sense?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do.” His smile is gentle, almost kind. It makes my skin crawl. “You feel it every time you look at them. The certainty that something’s missing. That someone’s missing.”
My heart starts to race, water suddenly feeling too cold against my skin. “Get out of here, Callum.”
“You think it’s all about love,” he continues, ignoring my demand. “That they chose you. That you chose them.” He pauses, letting the words settle. “But your final bond? That was chosen long before you were born.”
The world tilts, reality sliding sideways like I’m looking at it through broken glass. “What?”
“It’s Darian.”
The name hits like a physical blow, sending shockwaves through the bonds in my chest. The connection I’ve been trying to ignore, trying to bury beneath the others, flares to life with painful intensity.
“That’s not possible,” I whisper, but my body betrays me. The bond pulses, recognizing truth in his words even as my mind rejects it.
“He was made for it. Just like you.” Callum’s voice is matter-of-fact, clinical. “Light and shadow. Control and chaos. Did you really think your connection to him was an accident? A leftover from academy drama?”
I’m shaking now, water around me starting to respond to my agitation with small, dark ripples.
“He’s not a scar, Kaia. He’s the key.”
“The key to what?” The question tears from my throat like a scream.
His smile widens, and for the first time since I’ve known him, it reaches his eyes. “You’re the one who opens the gate. And he’s the one who makes sure you do.”
The words feel like prophecy, like riddles wrapped in certainty I don’t understand. But the bond—god, the bond—it recognizes something in what he’s saying. It pulls, sharp and insistent, toward something I can’t see but feel in my bones.
“Alekir bound you before either of you could walk,” Callum continues, his voice soft with mock sympathy. “You were never supposed to choose him. You were supposed to need him.”
The revelation shatters something inside me. Not my heart—something deeper. The foundation I’ve been building my choices on, the belief that what I feel, what we all feel, is real and chosen andours.
“No.” The word comes out broken. “No, that’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” He tilts his head, studying my reaction. “Every choice you’ve made, every bond you’ve formed—did you really choose them? Or did they choose you because they had to? Because something in them recognized what you are?”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think past the horrible logic of his words, the way they fit too neatly with fears I’ve been carrying since the bonds first formed.
“You’re lying.”
