Chapter 31
Callum
The air tingles with raw magic, raising the hairs on my arms as Nyxiana’s silver-white hair lifts in an ethereal breeze. Her hands move through intricate patterns I’ve never seen before—fingers weaving reality itself as her lips form ancient words.
Five figures form a perfect circle in the ruins of my cabin—the exact spot where Faelan’s portal tore Lyanna away from me. The scorched floorboards still hold traces of that corrupt magic, and it’s those traces the portal guardians are using to recreate the pathway.
Nyxiana anchors one point, with Lachlan opposite her, their combined magic pulsing in visible waves. Elysia stands between them, her normally soft features sharpened with concentration, while two other fae guardians complete the formation.
I can’t stand still. The bond pulls me forward like a physical tether stretching across dimensions. Every cell in my body screams to move, to follow that invisible line to Lyanna.
Nova approaches, pressing a small data crystal into my palm.
The surface pulses with contained magic—every piece of evidence we’ve gathered compressed into one object.
“Everything’s on here. Tribunal corruption, contamination signatures, Caelynn’s murder analysis.
Evren knows how to activate the display. ”
I close my fingers around it. This crystal holds our entire case—the proof that could save Lyanna or damn Faelan. Both, if we’re lucky.
Ben checks his tactical belt one last time, movements crisp and efficient. “Strike team ready. Primary and secondary weapons secured.”
Rhonan adjusts his pack, muttering what sounds like “Vrek” under his breath as he glances at the building portal. “Fae courts will have wards designed to detect outsiders. Be prepared for resistance.”
Evren bounces on his toes beside his brother—nothing like the controlled diplomat who’d led the dragon contingent to retrieve Lyanna.
That mask is gone. Tiny flashes of fire spark at the corners of his mouth as he grins.
“Kythara, this is exciting!“ Golden light flickers through his amber eyes as he paces a tight circle, practically vibrating with anticipation. “I’ve missed fighting with my Ash Hollow pack.”
Rhonan shoots him a look. “Save some of that energy for the actual fight, little brother.”
The ground beneath us resonates with the portal guardians’ chanting.
They’re not just opening a portal—they’re unraveling Faelan’s blocks, peeling back the layers of magic he used to mask his extraction route.
I feel it through my boots—ancient syllables that make my teeth ache and the angel blood in my veins hum with recognition.
Each word strips away another barrier he left behind.
Derek and Rafe take flanking positions behind me, checking their weapons with practiced precision.
“Portal stability at eighty percent,” Lachlan calls out, his Irish accent thickening under the strain of channeling so much power.
The bond in my chest flares suddenly—white-hot and urgent. She knows. Lyanna feels us coming.
“She’s ready,” I tell them, my voice rougher than I intended. “She’s preparing from inside.”
Ben nods once, signaling final positions. “Strike team, form up.”
The portal magic builds to a crescendo, air tearing open with a sound like silk ripping. The space between Nyxiana and Lachlan splits, revealing a shimmering gateway of silver-blue light. Through it, I catch glimpses of crystalline spires and opalescent streets.
“Vel’tar,“ Evren breathes, his voice dropping to something almost reverent as he stares at the swirling portal energy. Another spark of fire escapes as he flashes that characteristic grin. “I’ll never tire of portal hopping.”
Gleann na Sidhe. The heart of fae power—and the prison holding my mate.
The portal stabilizes, edges hardening from vapor to a defined boundary, a perfect doorway between worlds, standing where moments before there was only air.
I step through the shimmering gateway after the others, and the sensation hits me like a physical blow.
My entire body feels submerged in freezing water, pulled through something too small, reality compressing around me until I can barely breathe.
My wolf thrashes beneath my skin, snarling at the wrongness of it all.
This is my first portal crossing. I’m not impressed. I like my two feet—or four paws—firmly on Earth. But I’ll do anything for Lyanna.
The portal yanks us sideways through dimensions, and I swear time itself bends. The seconds stretch and compress unnaturally—dawn light washing over us despite having left in darkness.
I stagger onto solid ground as the world materializes around us. Gleaming crystalline spires catch the strange dawn light, fracturing it into prismatic rainbows across gardens unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The air tastes different—sweeter, heavier with magic.
Ben’s hand signal snaps me back to focus: Possible ambush. Stay sharp.
Without a word, our team drops into formation. Derek and Rafe immediately move to flanking positions, weapons ready.
A shrieking alarm suddenly pierces the air—magical barriers flare to life around us, shimmering walls of force slamming into place across garden pathways.
“Portal breach detected!” a voice calls out in a language I shouldn’t understand but somehow do.
“Plan’s fucked,” Ben mutters, pulling twin blades from his belt. “They’re waiting for us.”
Guard shouts echo from multiple directions—not the scattered response we expected, but the coordinated movements of a security force that was prepared for our arrival.
“Northeast corridor,” Rhonan says, pointing toward a crystalline archway. “Throne room access.”
My wolf surges forward, no longer content to be patient. I let him come partway—claws extending, senses sharpening, but holding the full shift back. We need hands for the evidence packet. Need voices for the legal challenge. Can’t do that on four paws.
The connection in my chest pulls like a physical tether, stronger now that we’re in the same realm. I know exactly where Lyanna is—can feel her direction as clearly as if she were calling my name.
“That way,” I confirm, clawed hand pointing toward the central palace structure. “She’s there.”
The first wave of guards rushes through the garden, armor gleaming with fae sigils. They’re moving faster than our intel predicted, weapons already drawn. Not the casual palace security we expected—these are elite guards in full combat readiness.
Evren grins, tiny flames dancing at the corners of his mouth. “Always wanted to crash a royal wedding.”
We crash into the first line of guards like a battering ram. My claws slice through ornate armor, wolf howling satisfaction beneath my skin as we drive deeper into the palace grounds, following the pull toward Lyanna.
I push forward through a flood of fae guards, their crystalline armor scattering prismatic light across the corridor walls. My claws carve through the metal like butter, their screams cutting off as I drive past them.
“Second wave incoming—thirty yards northeast,” Ben’s voice cuts through the enchanted comm at my ear. “Timing shows coordinated response. They were waiting.”
I duck as Rhonan unleashes a blast of dragon fire above my head, the heat searing my scalp as it clears the magical barrier ahead. The smell of burning enchantments fills my nostrils—acrid and electric.
“Vrek!“ Rhonan curses as the corridor behind us fills with more guards. “They’re herding us.”
“Keep moving,” I growl, following the unrelenting tug in my chest. It throbs like an open wound, each pulse guiding me forward. Every corridor we cross brings her closer, her presence growing stronger in my blood.
Derek signals from the junction ahead, motioning toward a branching corridor on the right. “Guard rotation pattern shows a five-second gap. Three ... two ... now!”
We sprint through the opening, Rafe’s hands extended as he dismantles the ward system with brutal efficiency, his fingers tearing through the magical barrier like it’s made of tissue. The walls around us shimmer with faint alarm patterns, pulsing in rhythm with the castle’s defensive magic.
“Time check,” Ben snaps through the comm.
“Eleven minutes until ceremony starts,” Derek responds, checking the enchanted timepiece strapped to his wrist. “Throne room ahead—east wing, second level.”
I push past Rafe, driven by the increasingly urgent pull. Sunlight streams through tall crystal windows, casting rainbow patterns across the marble floor. Throne room close. So close.
Evren skids to a stop beside me. “Main entrance heavily warded, but there’s a service corridor. Dragon fire should punch through.”
“Do it,” I command, not slowing down.
We round the corner, and I skid to a halt. The corridor ahead is blocked by the heaviest guard concentration yet—at least twenty armored fae warriors with drawn weapons forming a wall of silver and steel before massive crystalline doors.
Through the corridor windows, golden sunlight angles through the ceremony hall. Ancient, ethereal music filters through the crystalline throne room doors, the haunting melody signaling the start of binding rituals. My skin crawls with the knowledge of what’s happening inside.
I check my tactical belt, counting essentials with practiced fingers—comms device, evidence packet containing tribunal corruption documentation, a blade at my hip. The bond in my chest pulls tighter than ever, a physical tether leading straight through those ornate doors.
The guards ahead form a perfect wall of silver and steel, their ceremonial armor gleaming with enchantment. Twenty at least, far more than intelligence predicted.
Faelan knew I’d come. The trap we suspected, sprung exactly as planned—and we walked into it anyway. Because there was no other choice.
Ben moves silently beside me, his face set in grim determination as he taps his ear device. “Evidence ready?” he whispers. “Evren’s diversion holding?”
I nod, feeling the weight of the data crystal in my pocket. Everything we’ve gathered on Faelan’s manipulation, tribunal corruption, Caelynn’s suspicious death—all contained in one small package that could change everything.
The enchanted comm crackles. “Eastern wing fully engaged,” Evren’s voice reports, the excitement in his tone unmistakable even through the static. “You have a window.”
Rhonan mutters “Vrek” under his breath, checking his own weapons. “Remember—legal interruption, not assault. Tribunal law allows a challenge before binding completes.” He catches my eye. “And Callum—this is Lachlan’s family. Minimal damage. These aren’t our enemies.”
I nod grudgingly. Every instinct screams at me to tear through those doors and rip Lyanna free.
But Rhonan’s right—we came with evidence, not just fury.
If we can prove Faelan’s manipulation before the tribunal, we win more than just her freedom.
And I won’t repay Lachlan’s loyalty by burning down his ancestral home.
Derek and Rafe take flanking positions, their movements perfectly synchronized as they prepare for the breach. Rafe’s eyes narrow, assessing the guard formation with calculating precision.
The connection in my chest suddenly flares white-hot, a jolt of awareness so powerful it nearly doubles me over. Lyanna knows we’re here. I feel her recognition pulse through me.
The ceremonial music shifts to a higher pitch. “First binding incantation starting,” Rhonan translates, tension vibrating through his words.
The twenty guards haven’t moved—they’re holding position, weapons ready, waiting for us to make the first move. Smart. They know we can’t wait them out.
“On three,” Ben says, his voice steady as he readies himself. “One.”
My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the pull of the bond.
“Two.”
My claws extend fully, wolf and angel blood surging together as I coil to spring.
“Three.”
We hit the guard wall like a hurricane.