Chapter Forty-Four #2
The altitude has stolen the warmth from my body, and now it feels like the cold is burrowing into my bones, pressing into my ribs with bony fingers. The sun has long given way to the moon, and the first Stars have begun their slow emergence across the sky. It can’t be much farther.
Anticipation knots tight in my stomach, a visceral unease that I can’t shake. Kael shifts behind me, subtly inching closer, pressing his thighs more firmly around my own, his arms settling against my sides like a shield against the cold.
I pretend not to notice.
I pretend I don’t feel the sturdy wall of his chest, the impossible warmth of his body. I pretend I don’t feel safe in his presence, even though I shouldn’t. Even though I can still taste the betrayal on my tongue. Desire and fury coil together, inseparable.
The final stretch of the ascent is brutal—more ice than stone, the incline near-vertical. My legs ache from clenching around Nyx’s massive frame, but the tightness in my chest is worse. Something waits at the top.
And the Velmara know it.
They break ahead of us in unison, their movements fluid, effortless, untouched by exhaustion. They reach the summit before we do, their dark forms shifting against the pale backdrop of the mountains.
But instead of continuing forward, they stop.
This is it.
A rocky outcropping splits down the middle, a narrow path leading toward a snow-covered plateau. The magic in my chest thrums, a steady pulsing beat, as if whatever lies ahead is calling to me. Waiting.
We dismount in silence. The first thing I notice is the stillness. No wind. No sound. As if the mountain itself is holding its breath.
Then—the growl.
It rumbles through the cliffs, deep and unearthly, a sound that vibrates through the ice and stone beneath our feet. The Velmara move as one, stepping forward to block the path.
Massive paws press into the snow, tails lashing once before curling back. Their silver eyes glow, fixed on us.
No one moves.
No one breathes.
Then, Ronyn—of course it’s Ronyn—raises his hands in mock surrender and takes a slow step forward.
“We don’t want to hurt you. We just need to get to the compass, okay, little fellas?” He croons.
The answer is immediate.
A snarl rips through the night as one of the Velmara lashes out, a single, casual swipe of its paw nearly knocking Ronyn on his ass.
“Woah. Woah. Okay. I guess I’m not passing.”
Therion’s laughter is sharp and unexpected. He claps Ronyn on the back, grinning. “It’s okay, bud. Being scared of a kitty cat is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Ronyn shoves him off, but the lopsided smirk on his face remains.
But I don’t laugh.
The Velmara aren’t just blocking the way.
They are guarding it.
I step forward.
The cold burns my skin, my pulse hammering against my ribs. Testing them. Testing myself.
Zhari. Zhari. Zhari.
The ancient Vaythari chant beats against the inside of my skull. I don’t know why I think of it now. But I let it settle there, let it guide my next step.
Seren inhales sharply behind me. I hear the whisper of her hands clasping over her mouth.
I ignore the fear pressing in from all sides. Instead, I let my magic pulse outward—not an attack, not a command, but an offering. A promise.
“I mean no harm,” I murmur, voice barely more than a whisper. A prayer. “I wish to help your people.”
The Velmara do not move.
Not at first.
But their silver eyes remain locked on to mine, watching, waiting, deciding.
A sharp exhale leaves my lips as I take one more step.
And then—one of them lowers itself.
Slowly, deliberately, it settles onto its haunches, then shifts onto its belly, paws stretching out in the snow. A posture of submission.
My breath catches.
“They are submitting to you.” Kael’s voice is steady, unreadable. But I hear what he isn’t saying.
They are submitting to you because they know what you are. Who you are.
The second Velmara follows, bowing before me, their massive forms unmoving.
The way forward is open.
“I’ll go with you.” Seren’s voice is hesitant but determined. She swallows, shoulders squaring. “There might be runes or symbols—it needs to be me.”
“I’ll go.” Therion and Ronyn speak at the same time. I turn, glancing between them. Before I can decide, Kael speaks, “I don’t think it’s our choice.”
His voice is quiet but firm, eyes never leaving mine. “It can’t be Ronyn. They’ll never let him pass. Seren, it makes the most sense if you go. Will you try?”
Seren hesitates. But she nods, stepping forward, her breath unsteady.
The Velmara rise instantly.
Their hackles lift. Their lips curl over dagger-sharp teeth.
Seren stops short.
I don’t need to tell her to step back. She already knows.
Kael’s gaze shifts. “Ther?”
Therion steps forward. Same reaction.
A warning growl rolls through the mountains. The Velmara’s message is clear.
We permit who may pass.
Kael steps forward.
No hesitation. No fear.
His towering frame moves with the unshaken confidence of a man who has never bowed to anything in his life. Dark waves spill over his cerulean eyes, half-masked by the falling snow. He moves like a warrior.
And the Velmara—they do not move.
Kael stops just before them, looking down at them, dominant and unyielding, and they lower their heads. Submitting.
I exhale, something inside me uncoiling, something shattering and reforging itself in the same breath. “I guess it’s you, then.”
Kael lifts his gaze to mine.
“It’s me,” he says simply, but the words mean something more.
It’s always him.