No pressure.
The thought is bitter as I follow Oracle and Hades down the corridor toward the training room, each step echoing a little too loud, a little too final.
Just before we part ways, something steady presses into me, quiet, unmistakable, impossible to ignore. Not words spoken aloud, but a truth laid bare all the same.
‘Whatever happens tomorrow… you were worth it.’
I smile, hearing his words in my mind. The meaning unfolds all at once. Every risk he took, every law he broke, every line he crossed without hesitation, he would choose me again. He would choose me every time.
The realization settles deep in my chest, warm and immovable, locking into place like armor.
Unbreakable.
And as I begin the final hours of training before the battle that will define us all, I make a silent vow.
I won’t just survive dawn.
I’ll burn so bright the Coven of Crows will have no choice but to acknowledge I’m not an abomination.
I amnotwhat I was.
The power coiled inside me doesn’t hunger for ruin. It steadies, aligns, and bends toward something deliberate. Toward him, toward the choice I keep making, again and again, even when destruction would be easier. I let that truth settle, let it shape me, let it harden into resolve until it runs through my veins as surely as blood.
Together.
The answer is already there, waiting for me in my mind, unwavering and absolute.
Always.
The space between us hums, alive with shared certainty, stronger than any chain the Coven could forge. And wrapped in that quiet, unbreakable understanding, I draw a steady breath and turn toward the coming dawn, ready to meet whatever it may bring.
Chapter Nineteen
SLOANE
Approaching Dawn
The clubhouse hums with barely contained chaos. Not the violent kind, but the anticipatory tremor that runs through a warzone moments before the first shot shatters the silence. Every supernatural being here feels it, the weight of an approaching dawn.
I stand at the main room window, watching darkness bleed toward the horizon. Two hours, maybe one and a half, that’s all we have before Viktor’s army crashes against these walls and the Coven of Crows decides whether or not I am worth keeping alive.
Crave’s exhaustion settles into me, heavy and familiar, like it’s my own. The Binding carved away his Original power, leaving him vulnerable in ways he hasn’t experienced since before he was turned. He’s trying to hide it, walking through the clubhouse with that same predatory grace, issuing orders with presidential authority, but I feel the strain—the way each movement costs him more than it should. The hunger gnawing at him, sharper now without his full strength to temper it.
He gave up everything for me.
The thought settles in my chest like molten lead, heavy and burning.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
I turn to see Oracle standing behind me, his ancient eyes reflecting firelight that doesn’t exist in this room. He’s holding two steaming mugs, and the scent that rises from them isn’t coffee or tea. It’sunnatural, smoky, sweet, and somehow alive, carrying memories that don’t belong to me.
“Whatisthat?” I ask.
“Phoenix Dust tea.” He offers one mug, his scarred hands steady despite the tremor I see in his aura through Crimson Sight. Even Oracle, who’s died and been reborn more times than I can count, is afraid. “Drink. You’ll need to remember who you are when the fire wants to forget.”
I take the mug from him. The ceramic is hot enough that it should blister my skin, but the heat barely registers. Another quiet reminder that my body doesn’t answer to human limits anymore. Another piece of myself left behind.
“Will it help?” The question slips out smaller than I intend, stripped of bravado.
