ROXY
Consciousness returns in fragments.
First, the familiar stone beneath me, rough and worn but unmistakably home. Then the voices, low and layered with weight I don’t yet understand. My body aches in ways that suggest I pushed too far, burned too bright, demanded magic I barely know how to control, and somehow survived the experience anyway.
I force my eyes open despite exhaustion clawing at the edges of awareness, trying to drag me back under into darkness that promises rest I can’t afford yet.
The clubhouse materializes around me in familiar shapes and shadows. The sofa beneath me somehow survived the battle, though the cushions are bloodstained and torn in places. My brothers are scattered across the space, in various states of collapse and recovery, Ash moving between them with quiet efficiency, checking wounds, while Luna appears from somewhere with water and bandages.
And standing in the center of the room, exactly where the fractured crystal dome used to contain Raze’s dying flame, is my mother.
The witch.
Ancient power wrapped in human skin, features I recognize in the mirror every morning, but aged by millennia of existence beyond mortal comprehension. She’s exactly as I remember her, slim frame draped in fabric that shifts colors with each breath, violet bleeding into obsidian bleeding into golds as if reality can’t quite decide what she should be wearing.
She’s talking to Raze. No, not just talking… assessing. Measuring him against some invisible standard only she can perceive, ancient eyes cataloging every shift in his expression, every micro-movement that speaks to the balance he’s finally achieved. Fire and ice spiral beneath his skin in visible patterns, no longer fighting for dominance but working together in ways that should be impossible but somehow aren’t.
“You’ve found it,” she says quietly, her voice carrying that ageless quality that makes simple words feel like prophecy. “True contentment. The balance I’ve been waiting for you to discover.” Her gaze shifts, lands on me, and something in her expression transforms. “And my daughter helped you get there, just as you helped her discover what she’s capable of becoming.”
“She’smine,” Raze’s voice cuts through the haze, rough with something fierce and unyielding. Even half asleep, I feel the weight of it, the claim wrapped around the words like armor. My chest tightens, heat blooming low and steady as he continues, every syllable carrying both promise and defiance. “We’re each other’s destiny, no matter what your curse intended.”
Silence stretches, thick enough to press against my skin. Then my mother’s voice answers, calm and certain, threaded with that ancient patience that always makes the room feel smaller. “Yes,” she says simply. “You are.”
I push myself upright despite my body’s protests, exhaustion, and depleted magic making the movement harder than it should be.
Raze turns immediately, crossing the distance between us in four long strides to crouch beside the couch, one hand coming up to cup my face with careful intensity. “You’re awake.” Relief floods his voice, fire and frost bleeding into the words in equal measure. “How are you—”
“I’m fine,” I interrupt, though ‘fine’ is probably generous considering I can barely keep my eyes open. My attention shiftspast him to my mother, standing there like she’s always been there, like she didn’t just witness us return from an impossible realm covered in blood and victory. “What’s happening?”
My mother takes a step closer, and now I can see it clearly, written in the subtle curve of her lips and the satisfaction gleaming in those pale green eyes shot through with gold.
Pride.
Not the warm, maternal kind that normal mothers feel. This is something colder, more calculated, the approval of someone who set pieces in motion centuries ago and watched them fall into place exactly as predicted.
The words hang in the charged air between us, and I feel something cold settle beneath my ribs, sharper than anger, heavier than betrayal.
“So, I was a messenger,” I say quietly. “A walking progress report.”
My mother tilts her head, considering me with that infuriating calm that has never once wavered, even when the room smells like blood and dragonfire.
“No,” she corrects gently. “You were a safeguard.”
Raze goes still beside me. “A safeguard?” he repeats, voice rough.
Her gaze shifts to him, ancient eyes softening just enough to suggest regret she’ll never fully admit. “Your fire did not respond well to power equal to its own. Witches, fae, even ancient vampires… all of them would have pushed you toward escalation. Toward war.” She gestures toward me. “Roxy’s magic is… incomplete. She does not inflame what she touches. She steadies it.”
Realization creeps up my spine like frost. “You sent me because I was safe,” I whisper.
“I sent you because you were the only variable in this lifetime to work,” she replies. “You werenevermeant to be the cure tohis heart. Only the measure to draw out his voidfire. I foresaw this. The fight with the Seelie Prince escalating. The only way to stop him was fear. The only thing he is fearful of is extinction. The only thing that could wipe out the Seelie Realm… is voidfire. I had no other option.”
Scar lets out a low whistle. “Damn, witch. That’s cold even for you.”
“You foresaw me getting my voidfire, you foresaw the fight between the Kings and the Seelie Court,” Raze says, fire threading through the words. “But you didn’t see your daughter and me falling in love?”
My mother’s gaze sharpens, lingering on the faint distortion still bending the air around his wings. For the first time since she arrived, something like uncertainty flickers across her face. “I did not,” she says slowly. “There is a reason they say love is blind… that is where my design ended. I did not plan for this outcome. I thought that with you keeping Roxy captive, she would despise you. I was counting on hate… not love.”
The room stills.
