Chapter 1
ONE
LINDSAY
I’m not the same girl who went into the Veil.
That girl was clueless, naive, innocent even.
Now, I have all the knowledge they tried to keep from me.
And I will use every bit of it to take Auron and his father down, dismantle the Council piece by piece, and rebuild it into something that doesn't devour its own.
Gasps fill the courtyard the second I step out of the Veil, the magic swirling around my feet and rustling my clothing like possessive fingers that aren't ready to let go.
It’s different from the first time I stepped through these gates with no knowledge of who or what I am.
Because I know now. I have more power than I’m sure Blackthorn Academy has ever seen.
They may have locked away the monsters they created with their careless actions, pretending they can erase them if they can’t see them. But I’m an exception to that.
Part human, part monster—if that’s what they want to call me. It doesn’t matter. I know their secrets now.
I lift my chin and take another step forward.
The Veil doesn’t release me all at once.
It clings—threads of shadow brushing my ankles, curling around my calves as though it’s reluctant to surrender what it claimed.
Power hums under my skin, not wild or chaotic like before.
Controlled. Patient. Like it’s learned my pulse and decided to keep time with it.
A dark symphony waiting for its crescendo.
Whispers ripple through the courtyard. I don’t need to hear the words to know them.
What is she?
She shouldn’t look like that.
Is that… Veil magic?
Perfect.
Let them be afraid. Let them sense the storm brewing beneath my surface, the one that could unravel their precious wards with a thought.
The wards flare as I cross the threshold, reacting to me the way a body fights a foreign invader—violent, panicked, trying to decide whether to reject me or absorb me. The stones beneath my boots crack, just slightly. A warning. Or a promise.
I smile anyway.
Someone says my name. Soft and uncertain.
“Lindsay.”
I don’t turn immediately. Because I already know who it is.
I feel Nolan before I see him—the familiar tug of warmth and worry, his magic reaching for mine instinctively, the way it always does when our bond pulls tight.
It skims the surface and recoils, startled, like he’s touched something unfamiliar and razor-sharp.
Something that could cut if he isn't careful.
That hurts. But I understand. Bonds like ours—forged in fire and secrets—don't break easily, but they can scar.
I turn slowly toward him and attempt to smile how I used to, soft and reassuring, the way that always made his eyes light up. He flinches, just a fraction, but enough to twist the knife. I missed the mark.
“Nolan,” I breathe. I’m back because of my bond to him and the others. That tether was the only light in the Veil's endless dark, pulling me through the void. It was the only way back.
“Are… where… I don’t understand…” he rambles, starting and not finishing two different questions, his nerdy brain spinning too fast to keep up.
But I pick them up easily. Are you okay? Where have you been? I don’t understand what happened to you. I can also read how unsettled he is by me. Not enough to step back or retreat physically, but enough to put up that silent protection spell between us, a shimmering barrier of intent.
That hurts, too. But Nolan's always been the smart one, the supportive one who plans ten steps ahead. If he's wary, it's because he cares.
Before Nolan can find the rest of his words, the air splits with motion.
“LINDSAY—”
Tamsin barrels into me at full speed.
She hits me hard enough that, a week ago, it would’ve knocked the breath clean out of my lungs and sent us both sprawling across the courtyard stones. Instead, my feet slide back half an inch. That’s it.
Instinct takes over.
I catch her.
One hand snaps out, fingers closing around her wrist. The other presses flat between her shoulder blades, steady and sure, anchoring us both. The Veil hums in approval, shadows tightening briefly around my ankles like they’re bracing, too.
Tamsin freezes.
Her eyes go wide—not with fear, not even shock, really, but something closer to awe. She looks down at where I’m holding her like she’s only just realized gravity failed to do its job.
“…oh,” she says faintly. “That’s new.”
A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. It’s rusty, unused—but real. “You always tackle first and ask questions later.”
She squints at me, hands still fisted in my clothes. “Correction. I hug aggressively.”
Then she looks up.
Really looks.
Her gaze sweeps my face, my eyes, the shadows still clinging like inked veins just beneath my skin. She doesn’t step back. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t put up a spell.
She just exhales.
“Wow,” she says, reverent and impressed in equal measure. “You went on a murder vacation and came back hot.”
Nolan chokes. Somewhere behind him, someone else gasps.
I snort despite myself. “Hi, Tams.”
Her mouth wobbles. Just for a second. Then she’s crushing me into another hug, arms tight, magic warm and familiar and hers.
“You scared the absolute hell out of us,” she mutters into my shoulder. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep Nolan from spiraling? He stress-cleans, Lindsay. He reorganized the potion vault. Alphabetically.”
“That is a spiral,” I murmur, tightening my grip just a little. Tamsin's always been my rock, the half-blood friend who gets it without needing explanations.
She pulls back enough to look at me again, hands still planted on my arms as though she’s making sure I’m solid. Real. Here.
“You’ve been gone so long! You feel… different,” she says slowly. Not accusing. Just observant. “But you’re still you.”
Something in my chest loosens at that.
“I am,” I say quietly. “Just…more.”
Tamsin grins, sharp and unapologetic. “Good. Because if you’d come back evil, I was fully prepared to stage an intervention.”
She finally lets go, turning to face the rest of the courtyard, planting herself half a step in front of me without even thinking about it. Protective. Defiant. Completely on brand.
“Okay,” she announces, hands on her hips. “Everyone relax. Yes, she looks terrifying. No, she’s not going to eat you. Probably.”
I lean closer to her ear. “I might eat a Council member.”
She beams. “See? Growth.”
Nolan clears his throat from behind us, and I can feel as he lowers his spell, just a fraction. A scratching of his magic against my overly sensitive power, testing the waters.
“You don’t have to apologize, Nolan.” I turn back to him, taking in his boy-next-door looks.
He still looks soft and sweet. Completely unchanged.
Which is…good, it’s what I wanted to find.
Sure, he looks a little tired, maybe he’s not sleeping well, but he’s still Nolan—the one who’s always been there, bonded to me in ways that go beyond magic.
Nolan swallows hard, his hands flexing at his sides as though he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“I wasn’t—” he cuts himself off, then exhales slowly, grounding the way he always does when his emotions threaten to outrun his logic. “I wasn’t going to apologize. I just…didn’t want to hurt you.”
My chest tightens. He was going to apologize, but I let the little lie slip by.
“You didn’t,” I say gently. “You felt something was different, and you protected yourself. That’s allowed.”
His brows knit together. “It didn’t feel like you,” he admits, voice quiet but steady. Honest. “And then it did. Both at once. Like…like trying to recognize a constellation after someone’s added new stars.”
That’s the most Nolan way he could’ve said it.
A sad smile tugs at my mouth. “I’m still the same pattern. I just burn brighter now.”
He lets out a breath that sounds like relief.
A release of air that he’s been holding for days.
Weeks. “I tried to find a way to pull you back after the Veil took you,” he says.
“Every theory, every restriction, every rule the Council ever put in place—I thought if I understood it well enough, I could find you.”
“Thank you for trying to bring me home.”
That finally does it.
His eyes shine, and he nods once. “Always.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest at that. I’m about to say more when a prickle crawls up my spine.
Awareness.
I glance up.
And there he is.
Auron stands at the far edge of the courtyard, tall and immaculately composed in dark robes that whisper of power and legacy.
His platinum blond hair catches the midday light like spun silver, almost blinding against the muted stone around him.
His face is pale, as if he’s just seen a ghost. Or like someone who has just seen something crawl out of a nightmare they thought they buried.
Our eyes lock.
For a heartbeat, the world narrows to the space between us. The Veil stirs, pleased and hungry, curling tighter around my senses as if nudging me forward.
He knows.
Slowly—deliberately—I let my lips curve. Not the soft smile I gave Nolan. Not the fond one Tamsin earned.
This one is cold. Predatory. Downright evil.
Recognition flashes across Auron’s face, followed immediately by something that looks dangerously close to fear.
I tilt my head, holding his gaze, and let the Veil look back at him through my eyes.
Miss me?
But he's not the only one watching. A shadow shifts in the corner of my vision—Kael, his demon essence coiling like smoke, his bond to me burning with unspoken regret.
He's keeping his distance, but I can feel his shadows reaching, tentative, as if afraid I'll reject them after all the secrets he kept.
And Raiden... where is he? The kitsune's protective fire should be here, scorching the air, but his absence tugs at our bond like a warning.
Dorian lingers further back, his fae eyes gleaming with that familiar, dangerous curiosity—watching it all unfold like it’s a game he hasn’t decided to join yet.
I could tell him he already has.
At least, that’s what the Veil taught me.
The courtyard feels heavier now, pressure stacking in the air, magic pressing close as unfinished bonds tug and strain against each other. Too many eyes. Too many emotions. Too much history packed into one space.
This isn’t just my return.
It’s the beginning of their unraveling.
A slow clap cuts through the tension.
“Wow,” Dorian drawls as he finally steps forward, boots clicking against stone as if he’s taking a stage instead of crossing a courtyard. His smile is lazy, amused, entirely too pleased with himself. “That’s how you make an entrance.”
A few heads turn. Some bristle. The fae Prince always unsettles people.
He stops in front of me, close enough that I can smell the sharp, green edge of his magic. Old forests. Trickster bargains. Promises that never come without strings.
His gaze flicks briefly to the shadows still curled at my feet. Interest sharpens. Not fear.
“Careful,” he murmurs, just for me. “If you stay here much longer, someone’s going to try to bind you, lecture you, or attempt to steal your magic.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Let them try.”
“Oh, I fully believe you’d enjoy that,” he says cheerfully. Then, louder, with all the careless charm of someone who knows exactly how much attention he’s pulling, “But as fascinating as this public spectacle is, I’m pretty sure you didn’t come back just to be stared at.”
He offers his arm.
The crowd shifts, uneasy. Nolan tenses. I feel Kael’s attention snap sharply to us, shadows bristling. Somewhere across the courtyard, Auron goes perfectly still.
Interesting.
Dorian leans in slightly. “Come on, Veilborn,” he says softly. “Before the council remembers they love cages.”
I hesitate for only a second.
Then I take his arm.
The Veil hums, approving, as we turn and begin threading through the crowd. People step aside without quite knowing why. Magic parts. Wards stutter as I pass, uncertain whether to challenge me or bow.
Dorian steers us toward the far archway, away from the densest press of bodies, his grip light but certain.
“Tell me,” he says casually, like we’re discussing class schedules and not the possible collapse of reality, “does the Veil always react like that to you now?”
“I don’t know yet,” I reply. “It’s still…learning me.”
His grin sharpens. “Oh. That’s going to make things very interesting.”