Chapter 20 Lindsay
TWENTY
LINDSAY
I don’t know where I’m going.
Not really.
My feet are moving, but my brain’s still stuck in the moment the Veil split open… the moment I almost—I don’t finish the thought.
Kael walks beside me, close but silent. Every few seconds, a flicker of magic arcs from my skin—snapping like lightning, wild and raw. One sparks off my shoulder and grazes his arm. He doesn’t flinch, but I see it hit him. I feel it through the bond.
He’s hurting.
“Kael,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “You don’t have to—”
“I do.” His voice is quiet but firm. “Don’t ask me to leave you.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“I know.”
Another crackle snaps across the space between us, brushing his chest. He winces this time. My hands shake. I curl them into fists and stop walking.
“I can’t shut it off,” I admit. “I don’t know how to control this. It’s stronger than it was.”
Kael looks at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever cared about. And it makes my heart stutter in my chest. He steps closer, letting another jolt snap against his wrist. “Then you don’t shut it off. You let me carry some of it until you can.”
His words shouldn’t make my throat tighten like this. But they do.
Behind us, the crowd of students still hasn’t fully dispersed. I can hear murmurs—questions. Hope. Fear. Nolan and Raiden stayed behind to speak to them, to try to explain what the hell just happened without causing a riot. I’m not sure it’s possible.
But I’m grateful they’re trying. Because I can’t. Not right now.
Kael brushes a hand against my lower back. “Come with me.”
I nod, too wrung out to argue.
We take a quieter hall to his quarters. They aren’t far.
I step inside, and the hum of restrained magic wraps around me like a second skin.
Not a single thing is out of place. Dark stone walls.
Shelves lined with scrolls, books, glass vials, and metal tools I still can’t name.
A narrow table beneath them holds rune stones and silver wire, every item arranged with surgical precision.
No dust. No warmth. Just order and control. Kael.
It’s exactly like it was the last time I was here.
The chair tucked in beside the table hasn’t moved since the last time I was here. Neither has the simple bed in the corner, blanket pulled tight with sharp corners. It’s not impersonal exactly—it’s just… contained. Every part of this space feels like him.
The moment his door closes behind us, my magic settles slightly.
Just slightly.
It still sparks. Still pulses. But it doesn’t lash out here.
Kael’s presence grounds me. His magic brushes mine and doesn’t recoil—it welcomes the burn.
“You’re bleeding,” I say, noticing a line of red tracing his jaw.
He wipes at it with his sleeve and shrugs. “Barely.”
“I didn’t know that was possible.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “That I can bleed?”
I nod. It’s silly saying it out loud, but he’s always felt indestructible. But maybe that’s because he comes to my rescue all the time.
“I’m sorry—”
“Little Fire.” His voice is soft now, rough with something deeper. “You just fought off an ancient magic council, cracked a hole in the Veil, and sealed it back shut with nothing but instinct and raw power. You think I’m worried about a few bruises?”
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in my ribs for hours. I like when he calls me little fire. Not that I’m going to tell him that, he might stop using the nickname.
“I don’t know what happens now,” I admit. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be here anymore.”
“You’re supposed to be exactly where you are.”
I blink. “Here… in your quarters?”
His lips twitch into something that could almost be a smile. “I didn’t say you had to be here. But I’m not complaining.”
There’s a beat of silence between us. Full of everything we’re not saying. Of everything we’ve seen in the last few days.
Kael’s eyes skim over me, his head tilting slightly. “You should lie down. Your magic’s still burning off you in waves.”
I glance toward the bed, then back at him, hesitation coiled tight in my chest. “I’m not sure I can sleep. And I’m wearing dirty clothes.”
He moves quickly and pulls out one of his shirts that looks like it would hang to my knees. “Put this on to sleep.” He hands it to me and turns away.
I lick my lips, my fingers gripping the soft fabric as I decide. I do feel tired. And I know he will protect me, so I quickly shed the dress, letting it slide to the floor at my feet, and pull on the shirt. It settles over me, all the way to my knees, and it smells like him.
I clear my throat awkwardly. “I’m changed.”
He turns back around and takes me in. My cheeks heat with a sort of embarrassment. It feels intimate, being in his space, and wearing his clothing. His gaze softens, his voice dipping low. “Would it help if I held you?”
The question lands softly. There’s no pressure or expectation behind it. Just Kael, offering to be my anchor.
I nod. Barely. But it’s enough.
He moves first, shedding his outer jacket and stepping around me to pull the blanket back. I climb onto the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the tight corners, but the mattress still dips beneath me.
Kael joins me, slow and deliberate, his movements smooth like shadow. And then his arms come around me, careful and firm all at once, pulling me into the solid heat of his chest.
The world still hums with aftershocks—magic and memory and things I haven’t even begun to process—but his heartbeat is steady. His breathing slow.
A moment later, his wings unfold and wrap around us, forming a cocoon of obsidian warmth. I press my face into his shoulder, breathing him in. He smells like cold magic and wind, like shadows laced with something sharp and clean. And I finally feel…safe.
I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. I don’t know what the Council will decide. But right now, in this moment, wrapped in Kael’s arms and his wings, I don’t have to know.
I just have to breathe.
And rest.
His warmth bleeds into me. My fingers curl slightly into his shirt. His wing shifts, tightening around me. My eyes flutter closed.
And sleep pulls me under.
But it doesn’t feel like sleep.
Not exactly.
It feels like I’m floating.
Like slipping between worlds.
The air tastes like magic—cool and electric, familiar in a way that makes my chest ache. I’m standing in a place that looks like the Veil but isn’t. No shadows clawing at the edges. No monsters. Just a stretch of black sky lit with faint silver threads and drifting runes that pulse like fireflies.
I take a step forward—and Kael’s there. But not dressed in black or wrapped in armor.
He’s barefoot. His shirt loose at the collar. His wings folded behind him, glowing faintly with some kind of quiet power. His eyes find me as though he’s been waiting, like he always knows where I am.
“You’re dreaming,” he says, but his voice is softer here. Almost reverent.
“So are you,” I murmur.
He moves closer. I don’t step back.
The space between us hums, charged like lightning just before the strike. I think I should say something—should ask why we’re here, why this doesn’t feel like a normal dream—but I can’t find the words.
Because he lifts his hand. Brushes a strand of hair from my face. And I swear, I feel it. Not like a dream. Like a memory.
Real. Raw. Tangled in something ancient and unspoken.
“I thought I could stay away,” he whispers. “But I can’t. I don’t want to.”
My heart stumbles.
He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away. I don’t. His lips brush mine—soft at first, a question, almost seeking permission.
And then he deepens it.
The kiss blooms through me, warm and aching, the same as fire licking through every inch of my soul. My fingers find his shirt again, holding on as his wings arc around me once more, shielding us from everything else.
Here, in this space that belongs to neither world, we’re just two people.
No prophecies. No Veil. No impossible fate.
Just Kael. Just me. And I never want to wake up. So I kiss him back and lean into his touch.
When I finally blink awake, my breath catches. Because I’m still curled against him, our legs tangled beneath the blanket, his arm wrapped securely around me even in sleep and my lips tingling from a kiss I’m not quite sure was real.
And his brow is furrowed like he’s dreaming something intense. Something familiar. My fingers brush his chest then lightly over his jawline.
And I wonder—was it just me? Or did he feel it too?