Chapter Thirty-Six
I’m Here
Lashed to ruin but not yet lost, he burned—and still, she claimed him.
The stars wheeled above him, bright, eternal.
Orion—the Hunter—dominated the sky, his belt of three stars blazing side by side.
Three stars.
One lost.
One burning.
One waiting in shadow.
And Viktor refused to fall beneath them.
Darkness tore at him, dragging him down.
“Not yet.”
The voice cracked like thunder, primal and relentless.
His eyes snapped, searching.
A flicker—lightning split the night.
A hooded figure stood, staff driven deep into earth, sightless gaze locked on him.
Gone. Then back. Then gone again.
“Find your hands,” the voice commanded. “Anchor there. Live.”
His fingers clawed the grass. Burn followed—violent, searing.
Lightning ripped through him—a stone pressed to his chest, glowing blue-white. Each surge scorched him alive.
Air slammed into his lungs like shattered glass.
His chest arched, convulsed.
“You are not finished.”
The vow shook through him like judgment.
“Rise.”
His eyes flew open.
Above him, the stars blazed brighter, endless.
He dragged in a breath, body wrecked but alive. The faintest heat still pulsed beneath his ribs—like the last ember refusing to die.
And through the night came a voice stronger than thunder—
Amerei’s cry, breaking, calling him back.
She stumbled through the shattered hall, skirts torn, rubble biting into her knees. The roar of panicked nobles still rang behind her, but she only heard one thing—silence where his voice should have been.
“Viktor!”
Her throat tore on his name. She shoved past the smoke, stone dust stinging her eyes. Evander shouted at her to wait, to slow down, but she didn’t. Couldn’t.
The night swallowed her as she burst through the ruin.
And there—
her heart nearly stopped.
Viktor lay sprawled in the grass, chest blackened, smoke still curling from his skin. His mantle was torn, his body wrecked, the fire of him nearly gone. For one paralyzing breath she thought he was—
“No.”
She fell beside him, hands shaking as they pressed against his chest.
“No, no, no.”
“Amerei!” Evander’s boots struck stone as he caught up, reaching for her arm, trying to drag her back.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, shoving him off, her tears falling hot onto Viktor’s scorched skin. “Viktor, look at me—”
His lashes fluttered, a ragged sound tearing from his throat. Relief cracked through her so violently she almost sobbed.
“I’m here,” she whispered, cradling his head, fingers combing through soot-dark hair. “Viktor, I’m here. Come back to me.”
And when his eyes finally slit open, blue mist flickering in their depths, Amerei felt her heart break and mend in the same instant. For a breath she swore the ground itself trembled, as if the earth refused to take him.
“Viktor…” She wiped soot from his cheek, his face the only part of him untouched—skin pale, lashes black with ash. Below, his chest and shoulders were scorched, cloth fused to flesh, sweat and blood seeping through. His arms hung useless, his raven hair matted, spread wild in the grass.
Her hand shook against him. Terrified to touch. Terrified to let go.
His chest hitched shallow beneath her palm—still breathing.
“Amerei!” Her father burst from the cherry orchard, cloak snapping, soldiers flooding the grass behind him. Horses stamped in the shadows, bridled and waiting. He dropped to one knee beside her, eyes raking Viktor’s broken body before searing into hers.
“He’s alive,” she choked, clutching tighter.
Storne’s hand clamped her shoulder, yanking her back.
“Let him go.”
“No—”
She twisted, fighting his grip.
But already his men were there, rough hands sliding under Viktor’s arms, tapping at his bloodied face until his eyes flickered. A vial was pressed to his lips, potion tipped back. He swallowed once, twice. A shudder tore through him—then he sagged limp again.
“Viktor!” Amerei’s cry split, terror clawing her throat.
“He breathes,” Storne rasped, holding her back. “Delirium keeps him breathing. We get him to Matteo’s father, and he’ll live.” His gaze locked hers, unflinching. “But we must move. Now.”
Her pulse hammered, disbelief and panic choking her.
Viktor’s head lolled against a soldier’s chest, his body a ruin of burns and blood. Amerei reached for him, but Storne’s arm tightened, dragging her back as his men hauled Viktor toward the horses.
“Border’s our only chance,” he said, already rising. “Matteo swears his father can save him. We must believe it.”
Through the press of soldiers, Gabriel’s voice cut low, urgent:
“Jasmine—come with us.”
Jasmine’s chin lifted, steady as steel. “You need eyes inside the castle. I stay.”
Gabriel’s jaw clenched. “Jasmine—”
“It’s war,” she cut in, her tone flat, final.
Gabriel caught her hand, dragged her in, kissed her hard—rough with everything unsaid—before Evander seized his shoulder and hauled him back.
“She’s made her choice,” Evander snapped. “Ride.”
Amerei barely heard them, her gaze locked on Viktor.
“On your mount,” Storne barked.
“I’m not leaving him—”
“You aren’t.”
He hauled her toward Obsidian, shoved the reins into her hands.
“But if you fall behind, he dies. Understand me?”
Her chest heaved, ash streaking her tears. She swung into the saddle with trembling hands, barely aware of Evander’s horse pressing up alongside hers, his steady presence shadowing her.
Storne’s warhorse was led forward, the stallion kneeling at a sharp command. He mounted in one fluid motion, cloak whipping, then turned to his men.
“Get him on. Lash him to me.”
They heaved Viktor up, dead weight slumping against Storne’s back.
Leather straps whipped around them, binding Viktor upright, his charred body sagging.
Storne’s arm locked across his, iron-hard, holding him as if he weighed nothing.
For the first time, he looked at him not as his daughter’s ruin, but as the man who had saved her.
Amerei could still see Viktor’s face in the torchlight—scorched all around but untouched. Unbearably human. Unbearably his. Her lips parted, breath shaking out of her as they lashed him to Storne’s back.
“Viktor…”
The words slipped raw, almost broken—
“You’re mine.”