I stared at Bryce’s face, waiting for a wince or a groan. Instead, his features smoothed out, the pain lines gone. His mouth relaxed into its soft, sleep-heavy shape, and he exhaled, a long, relieved sigh.
Aurelia exhaled, too. "That’s enough. Don’t want to completely empty his reserves."
Eleanor eased her grip and let the energy threads dissipate. The glow faded from the bowl, and the only light left was the evening sun leaking orange through the blinds.
Bryce slept, peaceful for the first time in days.
Aurelia stood, stretching her shoulders. She jerked her chin toward the kitchen. "Let’s go."
Zaden met us by the fridge, arms folded, jaw flexing. He didn’t say anything, but every muscle was tight as a rope.
Aurelia got to the point. "He’s stable for tonight. The headaches should be gone by morning, but we’ll want to repeat the siphoning every day for at least a week."
I nodded, but the fear didn’t leave.
Aurelia’s gaze flicked from me to Zaden, then back. "And as for Vivienne, don’t worry. She’s not a threat. She wouldn’t hurt a child, ever. She’s just fascinated. Wants to document, understand. That’s her curse and her gift. I mean, I get it. I'm curious, too, and honestly can't wait to see what that kiddo can do."
Zaden grunted, unconvinced. His jaw worked, but he didn’t argue.
Eleanor sipped a glass of water and said nothing.
I stared at the kitchen table. "You think this is just magical overload?" I asked. "Or is it something worse?"
Aurelia didn’t hesitate. "It’s just power surging into a vessel that isn’t ready. Time and patience will fix it. You’re not alone, Krystal."
That should have helped.
Instead, I kept seeing Bryce in the nurse’s chair, hands locked over his skull, already learning what it meant to be the kid who didn’t fit.
Aurelia packed up the crystals and promised to check in tomorrow.
Eleanor squeezed my arm on the way out. "I'm so sorry," she said, then slipped out the door with a tired smile.
When the house finally fell quiet, I stood in the hallway, watching the slant of light through Bryce’s open door.
He slept, easy as breathing, the sheets tangled around him and his wolf plush clutched to his chest.
I didn’t move. Not for a long time.
Chapter 25
Zaden
The sixth timethrough the 2am block, I caught the flicker again.
It was more a smudge than a shape, a blue-white pulse that bled across the lower left quadrant of the feed and then vanished, leaving the rest of the frame shaking. I froze the tape, nudged the jog wheel a quarter-second forward, and zoomed in. Nothing. Then, a pixel-wide line of light shimmered in and out at the edge of Bryce’s window.
I swore, low and sharp, and reached for the legal pad beside the keyboard. I rolled back the clip and counted out the seconds again. The anomaly never lasted more than a blip, 1.3 seconds, at best, and the next frame always looked normal, except for the way the curtains rippled, like something had passed through the room and pulled the air with it.
The rest of the property was quiet. Foxes, the occasional raccoon, but nothing two-legged. No lights from passing cars, no shadows that didn’t belong. I watched it on repeat, fingers tapping the desk, trying to decide if this was a ghost in the machine or something more sinister.
A notification pinged. I checked the health dashboard for the system. Three of the six cameras on the south end were showing offline. At least two had gone dark overnight, judging by the way the logs stacked up with no signal flags. I ground my teeth and wrote a new column. "REPLACE/REPAIR, south perimeter." The mate bond pulsed hot in my veins.
I made a list of every piece of gear I’d need. 4K outdoor cams, IR floodlights, a battery backup system, motion detectors for the upstairs windows.
The room was lit only by the monitors. The blue cast made the skin on my hands look bruised. I glanced at the clock, 11:48 AM. I’d burned through breakfast and almost the entire morning on this, my world narrowing to the two inches of screen where that goddamned flicker kept showing up.
I forced myself away from the desk. The dragon in me didn’t care about evidence, or probability, or the odds of a witch trying to break into my house. It wanted claws and fire and an explanation, right now.
