Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
FINLEY
My breath burned in my lungs, reminding me of what little control I had.
“Again,” Eiran said, tone firm. “Listen to the rhythm of your breath. Magic obeys rhythm. Anchor it.”
His presence felt immovable, yet calming—something, or someone, ancient, yet familiar.
“Your explanation doesn’t make sense,” I said, the lilt in my voice giving away my nerves and frustration.
Because I had to do this. For the dragons in Vistos, for the fae in Niev. For myself, after allowing myself to be manipulated and used. For Brenton, and the future I wanted with him. For Hoshiko and Sama, who didn’t have to stand at my side but chose to.
I clenched my hands, dragging in another breath, trying to force my magic into the cadence he instructed. My chest rose, fell. Rose again. My magic stirred under my skin, restless and refusing to settle. It slipped, hot and sharp, tearing at me from the inside instead of weaving through my breath.
The grunt that escaped me wasn’t graceful, and my magic burst outward in a hiss of red sparks.
“You’re trying too hard,” Eiran said.
Of course, I’m trying too hard. It’s what I’ve built the foundation of my life upon. Another grunt built, but Brenton stepped in before I unleashed it.
“How do you fill the vial with your magic?” Brenton asked.
“I use the weight of the water to steady me.” I paused, trying to form the right words while my mind reeled. Could Brenton be onto something, though? Could I fill my lungs the same way Everly showed me to fill the vial? “I feel its weight and picture my magic misting into it.”
With his brows pulled together, he turned to Eiran. “Can she use the weight of her breath the same way?”
Alastor moved closer and spoke before Eiran could reply. “Why don’t we sit?” He gestured toward the shimmering ground.
With my knees weak from exhaustion, I did as he said, and Brenton settled close beside me.
“I want you to close your eyes, Finley,” Alastor instructed, his voice calm and certain.
“Listen to my words, to my instructions, and try to do as I say. If you don’t get it right the first time or twentieth time, you’ll get it right on the twenty-first. You don’t have to rush.
We can practice here as long as you want. ”
My eyes snapped open. “What if it takes days for me to master this? What about the dragons?”
“Time moves differently here,” Eiran said. “Take as long as you need, and I’ll return you to the island only a few beats after you left.”
I clenched my fists, words bursting before I could swallow them. “Why can’t you do it?” I asked Eiran, my voice cracking but sharp. “Zaicha’s magic, my magic, they both come from you, right? You know your magic better than either of us. Can’t you stop her from killing?”
Heat burned in my throat. I couldn’t untangle the fury writhing in my chest. You could’ve been there, I wanted to scream. You could’ve helped me when I was drowning in my magic.
Not once had he stepped in. Not when my magic scared me or when the death of so many weighed on my very soul.
“Sadly, I cannot leave this realm.” Eiran’s voice carried, reverberating in my bones.
His eyes dimmed. Not with weakness but with eternity, as entire centuries weighed upon him.
“My dominion is in the astral realm. Every soul passes through me. If I stepped beyond its veil, chaos would rend the balance of death itself.” For a few beats, something achingly human flashed through the stern lines of his face.
“Do not think I have not felt you suffering, child. Each time you broke, each time grief hollowed you out, I knew. And I—” His jaw tightened, holding back the words he was about to say.
“Regret is not a thing a god clings to. Yet I carry it for you.”
His words struck me. He sounded so certain, so untouchable, cloaked in his eternal duty. A god weighed down by souls, too burdened to care for his daughters.
I didn’t want his regret. I wanted his presence, his answers.
But I swallowed it all down because I would not break down in front of him. He could watch me bleed from a distance as he’d always done. Being vulnerable takes trust, and I had yet to form that with Eiran. I wasn’t sure I ever would.
More importantly, I needed to master this lesson, so I turned back to Alastor.
“Okay.” I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm within. At my fingertips, my magic sparked, not wanting to be calmed when my thoughts were in turmoil.
“Take in a deep, slow breath,” Alastor said, his tone almost hypnotic. “Slow. Deep. Let the air stretch your lungs, press against your ribs, fill even the pit of your stomach. If it helps, place your hand there, feel the rise beneath your palm.”
I obeyed, laying my hand on my stomach as my breath swelled inside me.
“Now, exhale,” he said quietly. “Not in a rush. Let it leave through you, as if your whole body were a vessel, until nothing remains.”
My chest fell as I released it in a long, deliberate stream.
“This time, when you inhale, picture the threads of your magic braiding through the air in your lungs. Slowly, good,” he said.
My magic flowed, for a few beats, doing exactly as I asked before it spasmed inside me. Heat flared through my veins.
“That’s okay,” Alastor said. “You’re learning. Try not to strangle your magic. Imagine it as a tether. You don’t pull it, but guide it until it chooses to run through you.”
My magic brushed at my fingertips, like something deceptively soft.
“Let it glide around you,” Alastor said. “Then coax it back in.”
I swallowed, steadying myself with the sure rhythm of his words.
I breathed in, feeling the way the air curled inside me. This time, I didn’t try to shove my magic inside me, but invited it in. The threads swam inside me, still restless but following my guidance. I felt them linger at the edge of my breath, curious as they began to curl and wrap inside me.
My breaths came easier, like my magic and breaths were working together.
Inhale. The ribbons of my magic followed. Still tentative, but doing as I asked.
Exhale. They loosened, sliding deeper into me instead of tearing free.
A trembling laugh broke from inside my chest. “I think . . . I think it’s working.”
“You’re doing well,” Eiran said. “Keep working at it until it becomes muscle memory.”
I repeated the motion. Once, twice, a few dozen times. Each stumble made my magic flare, but Alastor’s reminder to guide and not force kept me from breaking. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually, my magic pulsed in time with my lungs, grounded and obedient.
“Good.” For the first time, Eiran’s voice shifted, carrying something that sounded a lot like pride. “Do you still wish to learn to bind your magic to your bond?”
I looked at Brenton. His smoke magic shimmered faintly against his palm. He nodded, jaw tight but eyes soft. When he lifted a hand toward me, I clasped it. The bond flared instantly at the touch, the ever-present pull between us roaring in my chest.
“We do it together,” he said.
“It’ll be more challenging,” Eiran said. “The bond does not hold a quiet rhythm. It is fierce and wild, and if you force it, you could drown each other.”
Fear slammed through me—not for myself, but for what my magic could do to him. I tried to pull away, but Brenton’s grip remained firm.
“Don’t run from me, Lolli,” he said, words coming out rough. “We can do this. You can do this.”
His smoke magic skimmed through the bond like a gentle breeze, and it instantly eased the frantic pulse of my threads.
I inhaled, and rather than fighting the pulses, I let them move.
Just as I’d done when the threads of our magic played in the air.
His smoke curled with them, twining his gray threads with my red until they fell and rose together inside me. Inside him.
The sensation was almost too much, and I gasped. His magic wasn’t simply brushing mine but inside me, steadying every stumble and guiding each attempted surge.
“I can feel you,” I whispered.
When my magic tore too fast through the bond, his smoke wrapped around them, coiling through the edges and ushering them back into me without splintering the rhythm. He wasn’t forcing control; he was lending me his.
How could he do this so easily? As if his magic had always been twined with mine, as if his soul had always known mine. As if binding his magic was second nature. Where I faltered, he flowed. When I splintered, he smoothed.
Inhale. Smoke and death banded together.
Exhale. The bond thrummed stronger, steadier.
My body shook with the effort, and my gaze locked on Brenton, breathless at the sight. Silver specks shimmered around the hazel, my magic now living in him.
“Your eyes carry the silver of mine,” I said, my words coming out wobbly as I took in the silver that now replaced the gold specks. “We did it.”
His grin was feral and triumphant. “No, Lolli, you did it. Look at you. My smoke lives in your veins now. Our bond is no longer just a tether but a claim. Yours and mine. Inseparable. This is how we win.”
Something like a laugh or sob tore through me, and I threw myself forward against his chest and into his lap. His strong arms wound around me while our bond thrummed wild and alive. The pulse of my threads of magic came steadier with his smoke, each of our breaths carrying us both.
“Your bond is now the strongest power you will ever wield,” Eiran said. “Guard it well. Now that your magic knows its joint strength, it will never release it.” He turned his all-too-familiar eyes to Alastor. “May I speak with you in private?”
Alastor dipped his head in a nod.
I shivered, pressing closer to Brenton. The storm that usually waged inside me was quiet. Not gone but calm. Bound.
And it was bound to him.
Relief washed through me, sweet but fleeting. Because even as my chest swelled with this triumph, the world beyond this realm was still breaking. And sooner or later, it would try to break us too.
But for now, I let myself breathe with Brenton. One heartbeat. One tether. One fragile moment of peace before reality stormed back in.