Behind them came two more figures, regal despite their bedraggled appearance. A man and woman wearing simple crowns. The king and queen of the Enchanted Realm. My beasts’ parents.
Joy bubbled up inside me, so intense it hurt. They were free. We had won. Against a god, against an ancient curse, against all odds.
I rose to my feet, my wounds momentarily forgotten in the surge of elation. My beasts had seen me now, were already moving in my direction, their powerful bodies eating up the distance between us.
sixty-five
Bastien
Freedom tasted like ash and honey on my tongue as I burst through the portal, my massive paws hitting solid earth for the first time in what felt like centuries. The real world—not that hellscape of endless climbing and surviving—assaulted my senses with colors too vivid, scents too complex, sounds too pure. But all I could focus on was her.
Isabeau. My mate. Our mate. Standing across the battlefield with tears streaming down her face, her amber eyes locked on mine like I was her salvation when she had been ours.
Behind me, the portal pulsed and spat out more of our people. Marcel was directing the flow with that natural authority he’d never lost despite our bestial forms, his honey-colored fur catching sunlight that I’d forgotten could be so goddamn bright. Laurent moved with precise efficiency beside him, herding our confused subjects away from the closing rift between worlds. Our parents stumbled through, disoriented but regal even in their ragged state.
I didn’t give a fuck about any of it.
My attention belonged solely to Isabeau, who had started running toward us, her auburn hair streaming behind her like a battle flag. Her dress was torn, blood staining the fabric at her back.Who the fuck had hurt her? They'd be dead soon enough.She moved like nothing could stop her. Like nothing mattered except reaching us.
“Marcel! Laurent! Bastien!” Her voice calling my name sent a shock through my system more powerful than any magic. I’d heard her in the dreamscape, felt her through our bond, but this was different. Real. Tangible.
I charged toward her without hesitation, my brothers falling in beside me. We moved as one, as we always had, even in our monstrous forms. The ground trembled beneath our combined weight, but I barely noticed. The distance between us was too great, the seconds too many. I wanted her in my arms, under my body, marked and claimed and safe.
Then I saw him.
The prince.
Alain.
He stood to the side of the battlefield, golden light still emanating from him like he was some kind of fucking sun god.Our connection through Isabeau allowed me to recognize him instantly. The man she’d taken as her fourth. The man whose essence now flowed through our bond, whose claiming mark matched our own.
I wanted to hate him. Part of me still did.
But I’d felt him through Isabeau. Felt his honor, his sacrifice, his willingness to give her up for her happiness. Felt his blade strike down that piece of shit Gaspard who’d dared touch what was ours. The claiming bond didn’t allow for lies or deception between us, and what I sensed from him wasn’t the arrogance I’d expected from royalty. It was the same fierce protectiveness that drove my brothers and me.
Didn’t mean I had to like sharing.
We were almost to Isabeau when it happened. A warmth started at the claiming mark on my shoulder, spreading outward in golden waves that matched the light surrounding Alain. I faltered mid-stride, confused by the sensation that wasn’t pain but something more profound. More transformative.
“Bastien!” Isabeau cried out, still running toward us despite the strange light now engulfing all three of us.
I tried to respond, but my vocal cords seized. The warmth intensified, burning through my veins like liquid sunlight. My bones shifted beneath my skin, an agonizing pleasure that forced a sound from my throat that was neither human nor beast. I was vaguely aware of my brothers experiencing the same phenomenon, their massive bodies contorting beside mine.
Then we were lifted.
Fucking lifted into the air by tendrils of golden light, suspended above the battlefield as the magic worked its will upon us. I fought against it instinctively, thrashing and snarling. I was tired of forces beyond my control dictating my fate. Tired of magic rewriting my existence. I wanted my paws on the ground and Isabeau in my arms, not this suspendedtransformation that put me on display like some cheap carnival attraction.
Don’t fight it,Marcel’s voice was still bestial but somehow clearer, reaching me through our bond.The curse is breaking.
Breaking.
After all these years of darkness and protecting the forest. After the endless climb, the constant rage, the isolation from everything that made life worth living. After watching our kingdom fall to darkness from behind that shimmering barrier. After believing we might never escape.
The curse was finally breaking.
I stopped fighting.
The golden light seemed to respond to my surrender, intensifying until it penetrated every cell of my body. I felt my fur retreating, melting into skin that hadn’t seen sunlight in decades. My paws elongated, fingers and thumbs emerging where only claws had been. My face—the muzzle that had snarled and roared and frightened everyone except Isabeau—collapsed inward, reforming into human features I barely remembered.
