14. Caius #3
“That is not for me to say.” Chione’s voice softens, carrying what might be kindness. “But pairings are forming in your town despite centuries of suppression. The old bonds are reasserting themselves.”
“Leire and Aslan.” I murmur the names like a prayer. “Sakura and Torin.”
“And now you two.” The dragon’s smile is terrifying and beautiful in equal measure. “Three pairs in so short a time. The old power is remembering what it was, finding its way back through those willing to accept it.”
“The Preservers feel this.” Anouk’s voice has gone cold with understanding. “That’s why Cordelia is so desperate. She knows the work of centuries is being undone.”
“They will fight to prevent its completion.” Chione’s tail twitches. “Your Elder Mathilda was one of the few who started to remember. The Severing’s weakening allowed old memories to surface in those descended from witnesses. She was killed before she could share what she knew.”
“We suspected.”
“Now you know.” The dragon’s eyes hold ancient grief. “And knowing, you must decide what to do.”
The cavern falls silent. Crystal light flickers across Chione’s scales, casting rainbow shadows against the ancient walls.
The weight of centuries presses down on us—all the lies, all the suffering, all the pairs who never found each other because fear convinced the world that love between species was wrong.
“We break it.” Anouk’s voice is steel wrapped in silk. “We find the ritual site. We gather whoever we need. And we undo what should never have been done.”
Chione studies her for a long moment. Then she dips her massive head in what might be a bow.
“Your ancestors chose fear over power, little witch. You are choosing differently.” Her gaze shifts to include me. “Both of you. The old magic approves.”
“The old magic has opinions?”
“The old magic has been waiting.” The dragon rises, her movement sending tremors through the cavern. “Go. Do what must be done. And when the time comes to break the Severing—return here. I will provide what aid I can.”
She turns, scales gleaming, and retreats into the deeper shadows of her lair.
We stand in the crystal-lit silence, hands clasped, the dragon’s words still reverberating through the stone.
The walk back to Mistvale takes longer than the journey up.
Not because the terrain has changed—though it has, the paths rearranging themselves into less hostile routes—but because we stop often. To process. To talk. To simply hold each other in the fading mountain light.
“Grandmother Peach has been guarding a ritual site for centuries.” Anouk’s voice is wondering. “I’ve known her my entire life. She brought cobbler to my grandmother’s funeral.”
“She brought cobbler to my alpha trials.” I pull her closer as we navigate a rocky stretch. “With a note that said ‘You’ll figure it out eventually.’ I thought she meant leadership. She might have meant you.”
“That’s either sweet or deeply disturbing.”
“Welcome to Mistvale. Both options are usually correct.”
She laughs, the sound carrying through the ancient trees. My wolf rumbles contentment—hearing her laugh, feeling her relax against me, knowing she’s mine in every way that matters.
“What do we do now?” She looks up at me. “We know the truth. We know where the ritual site is. But Cordelia is still out there, still planning, still—”
“Still underestimating us.” I stop walking, turning her to face me. “She thinks she’s won. She thinks the attack today scared us off, or at least slowed us down. We use that. We let her believe she has time, and then we expose her before she realizes the trap has closed.”
“You sound very confident.”
“I’ve spent twelve years leading a pack of wolves. Patience and strategic thinking are professional requirements.” I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up to meet my eyes. “But I’ve also spent eight years waiting for you. This—” I press a kiss to her forehead. “This I’m done waiting for.”
“Good.” She kisses me. “Because I’m done waiting too.”
The kiss deepens. The forest sighs around us—wind through ancient branches, the approval of magic older than memory.
Something fierce and wordless crests in my chest, the kind of feeling that has no name except right.
When we break apart, the sun has begun its descent toward the distant peaks.
“We should get back.” Her voice is rough. “Before Cordelia does something we can’t undo.”
“Agreed.” But I steal one more kiss before releasing her. “Though I should warn you—Grandmother Sylvana is going to demand a full report. With details. She’s been waiting to interrogate my mate since before you became coven leader.”
“Your grandmother can wait.”
“She’s been patient for years. Her patience has limits.”
“So does mine.” Anouk’s smile is wicked. “And right now, my patience is entirely focused on surviving the next few days. Your grandmother’s interrogation can get in line.”
I laugh—a real laugh, unguarded and free.
Partners. That’s what she called us last night, tangled in her workroom, herbs growing wild around us. Partners.
I’m starting to understand what that means.
We walk back to Mistvale hand in hand, the dragon’s truth burning in our minds and the promise of revolution on our tongues.