Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
KAEL
I feel it before it happens.
The pull hits like a blade to the chest—sharp, ancient, and absolute.
Magic tears through the threads between realms, screaming through the mark that binds her to me.
One second, I’m in the lower tower, arguing with a second-rate spell-wright over the containment circles, and the next, I’m on my knees, gasping like I’ve taken a dagger to the ribs.
She’s in pain.
No—not just pain. She's unraveling.
And with her, so is the Veil.
I teleport without thinking. A single step through the in-between, ripping open a pocket of shadow with my claws and stepping into the council chamber. I land hard, boots crunching over shattered runes and ancient stone.
The room is in chaos.
The wall is split wide, a bleeding crack in reality where creatures that haven’t been seen in centuries crawl free—mouths open too wide, limbs bending wrong, eyes glittering like obsidian stars. Councilors have already fled, robes abandoned in their rush to escape what they’ve caused.
And at the center of it all—her.
Lindsay stands like a flame refusing to be snuffed, magic pouring from her body like wildfire, runes spinning around her in an impossible language even I can’t fully translate. Her skin glows, her eyes too bright, too far gone. She’s burning from the inside out. Too much power. Too much pain.
She’s going to break.
I move.
In a blink, I’m in front of her, slamming a ward into place with both hands, casting a containment circle made of old magic—Veil magic. Mine. It snaps into place just as her knees buckle. I catch her before she hits the ground, her body limp and hot with residual magic.
“Lindsay,” I murmur, brushing hair from her face, my voice low and raw. “I’m sorry you had to do this alone.”
She doesn't respond. Her lashes flutter, and her magic still flares wildly under her skin.
The chamber door slams open behind me.
“Lindsay!” Raiden’s voice.
Nolan skids in beside him, both of them freezing at the sight.
Raiden shifts into his animal form halfway, claws glinting in the low light, chest heaving like he was running through fire to get here.
“She’s safe,” I say without looking up. “But barely.”
They step closer, careful of the magic still cracking in the air around us.
Nolan's voice is a whisper. “Is she—”
“She’s alive.” I wrap my arms around her, grounding her with my body, my magic, my will, anything to keep her in one piece.
I should have been with her, I should have ignored the ramblings of my old teacher.
Regret is a bitter pill to swallow as my gaze goes up to the crack in reality. “But the Veil is damaged.”
We all look at the crack in the wall—creatures still crawling through, shadows stretching toward us. And for the first time ever, I feel fear settle in my bones.
The Veil is broken.
And Lindsay is the one who shattered it. There is no going back now.
She trembles in my arms. Her magic pulses once, twice—then begins to dim like a dying star. Still there. Still powerful. But spent.
She’s unconscious, her body pressed against my chest, her pulse fluttering too fast and shallow.
“She needs to be moved,” Nolan says quietly behind me. “We can’t let her stay here.”
“No,” I say, standing slowly, cradling her close, unable to release her. “The moment I lower the barrier, they’ll come straight for her.”
Because they can feel her now.
Every creature that slipped through that crack—they know who woke them.
And they’re hungry.
A shriek splits the chamber, too many teeth flashing in the dark as the first of them lunges forward, skittering sideways like it’s not bound by the same rules of physics. Claws scrape the stone.
Raiden steps in front of me without hesitation.
He’s in half-shift, his body stretching, growing, that long tail lashing behind him. He roars—loud enough to shake the floor—and slams the first creature into the wall.
Another comes, and Nolan—gods help him—plants his feet and throws a glowing glyph straight into its face. It erupts in sparks, sending the thing skittering back with a howl.
A dozen more pour through the crack, and I send my shadows after them.
I’m pretty sure we’re losing this battle.
More of them keep coming—clawing their way through the crack in the Veil like a dam has burst, spilling nightmares onto sacred ground. There’s nothing stopping them. Not when the one person who might’ve had a shot at sealing the breach is unconscious in my arms.
Then Auron appears.
His magic rips through the room like fire raging through a gasoline-soaked house, lashing back at the creatures with unrelenting force. Spellcraft coils from his fingertips in violent arcs, sigils burning midair before slamming into the nearest veilspawn.
He’s vicious in a way the other two aren’t. There’s a darkness in him, one that reminds me of my own shadows—only his doesn’t whisper, they scream. And the grin on his face says he’s enjoying this.
But I don’t care.
Not when he’s helping us protect her.
“You’ll be okay,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead even as my eyes track another creature lunging from the rift. She whimpers faintly, like she can hear me, but her body remains limp. I tighten my grip on her and shove down the panic threatening to claw up my throat.
Beside me, Raiden growls—a sound more beast than man—as he tears into one of the creatures trying to circle us. Nolan’s magic pulses bright and golden, a flash of pure will as he shields our flank.
And Auron—
Auron is a vortex of rage and—joy.
He sends a line of bloodborn runes across the floor, each one erupting into flame when touched. The last of the veilspawn screeches and convulses, shattering into dust under the weight of it.
Then silence.
No more pour through the rift.
The breach still pulses—an angry, festering wound in the wall—but nothing stirs behind it. Nothing comes.
Just the sound of our breathing.
Ragged. Uneven. Alive.
I don’t know how long we stand there. Seconds. Maybe hours. Magic still crackles in the air, clinging to our skin like smoke.
Then Raiden shifts back and straightens slowly, eyes locked on the bloodborn standing at the heart of the carnage.
Auron lowers his hands, his magic retreating like a leash being drawn tight. That same amused smile curves his mouth, cruel and unreadable.
None of us speak. We just stare. Because he’s not bound to Lindsay.
He doesn’t act out of love. Or duty. Or anything we can name. He helped us because it served some purpose. And none of us know what it is.
Auron stands at the edge of the ruin we’ve carved together, magic still clinging to him, as if it refuses to let go of its master. His chest rises and falls like he just went for a walk instead of flaying nightmares open with nothing but his will.
He tilts his head, gaze raking over the three of us—me crouched with Lindsay in my arms, Raiden bleeding, naked, and panting, Nolan still half-shielded in gold light—and something flickers across his face.
Not triumph or concern, but calculation.
He offers no parting words. Just turns and walks back through the scorched door he came in, disappearing like the whole thing never happened.
Good.
Because I don’t trust him not to gut us the second Lindsay isn’t between us.
She stirs in my arms.
Barely.
Her fingers twitch. Her head rolls weakly against my shoulder. Then—magic lashes out.
A burst of raw, crackling power flares from her skin, snapping like lightning and catching across my forearm. I grit my teeth as it stings deep, sizzling along old scars. She’s not conscious enough to control it. It’s wild and panicked and alive.
I don’t let go.
Another arc of power lashes across my ribs, pushing me back from her a fraction—but I hold her tighter.
“It’s me,” I whisper, voice low and useless, because I know she can’t hear it. “It’s me, Sunshine. You’re safe.”
The next wave of magic hits Nolan square in the shoulder. He stumbles back, wincing.
Raiden braces a hand on the cracked floor, growling low under his breath—but he doesn’t move toward her. Neither of them do. They don’t dare.
Because they see what I do.
She’s glowing like magic made flesh.
Hair tangled and matted with sweat, cheeks streaked with ash and tears that fell before she was unconscious, veins lit from within. She’s a sun forced into human skin, unraveling at the seams, possibly going super nova.
Another pulse.
This one doesn’t lash out—it trembles, then collapses inward like a breath held too long. Her brow furrows, body twitching like she’s caught in a dream. Another soft whimper that makes the three of us tense.
And then she blinks. Slow and unfocused. Her eyes find mine.
I don’t breathe.
Not until she opens her mouth like she’s trying to say my name—and the spark in her fades to something softer. Something her.
The magic settles like dust. And I let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in my chest for a lifetime.
She’s here.
She’s her.
I curl my body around her just a little tighter. And whisper, “I’ve got you.”
Because I do. And I won’t let her go again—even if she doesn’t realize that yet.
Her lashes flutter, barely open, and her voice is a ghost of itself. “I didn’t let them bind me,” she breathes. “Like you said.”
The ache in my chest cracks open, something sharp and almost unbearable. I blink fast, swallowing the knot rising in my throat, and let out a short, shaky breath that might be a laugh.
“You didn’t,” I murmur, brushing her damp hair back from her temple. “You made one hell of a mess.”
A whisper of a smile curves her mouth, then fades. Her eyes are still fogged, still heavy, but they flicker—searching, trying to make sense of the wreckage around her.
“Kael…” she whispers again. It’s not a question. Just a confirmation that I’m real. That I’m here. That I came.
“Right here, Sunshine.”
But then she shifts in my arms—only slightly, just enough for her gaze to drift past my shoulder.
Her breath catches.
“Raiden?”
He’s still crouched near the shattered edge of the altar, arms braced against his knees, chest heaving. Blood streaks down one side of his neck where a claw grazed him earlier, but his eyes are locked on her.
He nods once, jaw clenched, like seeing her awake is the only thing keeping him upright.
She turns more, weakly, and her gaze lands on Nolan next.
“Nolan…” She seems to soften in my arms, as though seeing him is a comfort for her. A slight jealousy for him tries to bloom inside my chest, but I snuff it out.
He’s pressed against the scorched remains of a pillar, his golden shield spell still flickering faintly across his shoulder. His glasses are cracked, one arm is cradling the other, and his clothes are smeared with soot—but he gives her a small, aching smile.
“You scared the hell out of us,” he says, voice hoarse. “Again.”
Her lips part, emotion crowding behind her eyes. She doesn’t speak—just stares at the three of us, the silence between us full of everything she can’t say yet.
Her gaze returns to mine. And even with the magic still shimmering faintly under her skin, even with the bond burning between us like an open wound—I know.
She’s still Lindsay.
Still ours.