Chapter 18-Amrin
I missed Sten.
The realization followed me through every shadowed corridor of the Asgarheim Runevald Institute like a second heartbeat.
He’d only been gone since late the previous night—since he’d taken me apart slowly and reverently in his bed beneath the storm-lit skies of Asgarheim—but already the absence of him sat inside my chest like an ache.
Like hunger.
Like something unfinished.
I could still feel him everywhere.
His hands.
His mouth.
The deep rumbling growl in his chest every time he touched me like I was something precious instead of temporary.
Gods.
Just thinking about it made heat creep across my skin all over again.
The Runevald halls blurred around me as I walked toward the graduate dormitories after my final lecture of the day, my satchel hanging forgotten from one shoulder while my heart pounded hard enough to make breathing difficult.
Students flooded the corridors around me in preparation for the Spring Equinox Festival.
Witches in jewel-toned gowns hurried past laughing softly.
Monsters from realms I still could not properly identify lingered in archways beneath floating lanterns and enchanted vines.
The entire Institute thrummed with energy tonight.
Magic saturated the air.
The ley lines crossing through Asgarheim seemed brighter somehow, auroras streaking silver-green beyond the towering gothic windows while celestial bells rang softly throughout the castle announcing the beginning of Equinox rites.
Everything felt alive.
Awake.
Waiting.
And somewhere within all of it—my Sten.
My stomach tightened at the thought.
No.
Not my Sten.
The dangerous possessive instinct rose immediately anyway.
Because after last night, after his hands and mouth and the way he’d looked at me like I was a miracle instead of a disappointment, something inside me no longer knew how to think of him as separate from me.
I missed him.
Terribly.
Pathetically.
Enough that I’d spent most of my lectures staring blankly at notes while replaying every moment we’d shared instead.
His voice in my ear.
His body wrapped around mine.
The way he whispered Luna like the nickname physically belonged to me now.
Gods.
I was in trouble.
Real trouble.
Because somewhere between the first kiss and waking up tangled in his sheets this morning, pretending had become impossible.
Whatever this thing between us started as—it was no longer a fake relationship to pass some class.
At least, not to me.
Not at all.
I tightened my grip on my tablet and glanced around the crowded hallway before re-opening the extra credit assignment Professor Franco had given me.
Emotional Resonance Mapping.
Chart your magical affinity through relational celestial alignment.
Basically magical matchmaking disguised as academia.
Very Runevald.
At first, I’d treated the project like a joke.
Now?
Now my pulse hammered violently while I input the final variables—just some personal data I found in Sten’s room when I was cleaning and happened to look inside his desk drawers.
Birthdates.
Latitudes and longitudes of the places we were born.
Stuff like that.
Mine.
Sten’s.
The app rendered slowly, celestial threads mapping themselves across the screen while blue points of light shifted through star charts and multiversal ley intersections.
I stopped walking completely in the middle of the hallway.
“Oh my fucking gods,” I whispered aloud.
The chart froze.
Two blue lights.
One labeled STEN.
One labeled AMRIN.
Both resting directly atop one another.
100% MATCH.
My mouth fell open.
That—no.
That had to be wrong.
I had to imagine that emotional resonance programs like the one we were using could be notoriously dramatic.
Students joked constantly about this project from Professor Franco.
Some even suggested that trying to pair couples on wild calculations was just as reckless as waiting for the Fates to pick a mate for you.
But still—warmth spread slowly through my chest anyway.
Because deep down?
I wanted it to be true.
I wanted something in this impossible terrifying magical universe to finally choose me back.
Witches technically didn’t experience fated mates the same way some supernaturals and Monster species did.
At least, not exactly.
But Asgarheim changed things.
Professor Kenna herself had warned me.
The Fates love games.
My thoughts spiraled instantly.
Maybe Sten and I really were written somewhere in the stars.
Maybe that impossible magnetic pull between us wasn’t just lust or loneliness or me desperately projecting meaning onto the first male who ever made me feel beautiful.
Maybe—a bell rang loudly overhead.
I startled hard enough to nearly drop my tablet.
Then someone slammed into my shoulder.
“Watch it, fatty.”
Ice flooded my spine immediately.
I turned.
And there he was.
Gunner.
He looked worse than he had the other day.
Unhinged almost.
His brown hair stuck out wildly like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it for hours while dark circles shadowed his eyes.
His jaw remained bruised faintly from where Sten had punched him.
Good.
“Your little boyfriend isn’t here to protect you this time,” he sneered.
Instinctively, I stepped backward.
Not because I was weak.
Because something in his expression genuinely frightened me.
Obsessive.
Wrong.
Predatory in a way that made my stomach turn.
“Amrin Cordoza.”
Relief nearly knocked me over when Professor Wainwright appeared farther down the corridor.
“You need to come with me,” the professor called sharply. “There’s an urgent portal call waiting.”
“Coming, Professor,” I said immediately.
Gunner leaned closer as I moved away.
Too close.
His breath brushed my ear.
“Run along, Witch,” he whispered. “I’ll find you later.”
Revulsion crawled down my spine.
I backed away carefully, refusing to turn fully until enough distance existed between us.
Only then did I pivot and hurry toward Professor Wainwright.
My pulse didn’t fully calm again until Gunner disappeared behind the crowd.
Gods.
What was wrong with that guy?
An hour later I stood alone inside my dormitory room staring at my reflection while replaying my mother’s voice over and over inside my head.
“You are a Cordoza, Amrin. Try to remember that and act accordingly.”
The words still burned.
My skin felt tight from anger and humiliation as I rubbed lotion mechanically along my arms after showering.
I should have known the portal call wouldn’t be anything good.
My mother never contacted me simply to check in.
Not really.
Everything with Evelyn Cordoza carried purpose.
Evaluation.
Judgment.
Expectation.
“You are not trying hard enough.”
I could still hear the disappointment in her voice.
The contempt.
And gods—the part about him, about Gunner McFadden, made me want to scream.
She’d actually entertained the idea—the completely repulsive idea—that I needed her to find me a mate!
She actually offered me up like some spare bargaining piece because she thought no one else wanted me.
“Who else will take a powerless Witch who looks like you as a mate, Amrin?”
My chest tightened painfully all over again.
Because even now, even after Sten and the impossible tenderness of last night, some ugly, broken part of me still half believed her.
Shit.
Because even though I tried to run from it, the truth was inevitable.
Mothers shaped daughters long before Monsters ever touched them.
And my mother had spent years teaching me I was difficult to love.
Too emotional.
Too uncertain.
Too much.
Not enough.
I was the Cordoza embarrassment.
Tears burned behind my eyes as I loosened the sash of my robe.
No.
Absolutely not.
I refused to cry over Evelyn Cordoza tonight.
Not tonight.
Not when Sten promised he’d see me at the festival.
Not when something inside me practically vibrated with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again.
One day apart already felt unbearable.
Which was ridiculous.
Dangerous.
Probably magically unhealthy.
But there it was anyway.
I needed him.
The realization hit with startling clarity.
Needed his voice.
Needed his hands.
Needed the way he looked at me like my softness was something holy instead of shameful.
Sighing shakily, I let my robe slip from my shoulders.
And froze.
There was a package sitting directly in the center of my bed.
Wrapped in shimmering midnight blue paper.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“It’s not my birthday,” I whispered aloud.
No one sent me gifts.
Ever.
Not like this.
Carefully, I crossed the room.
The paper itself felt expensive beneath my fingers, woven with silver thread that glittered softly beneath the dormitory lights. I didn’t want to rip it, so I grabbed my letter opener from the desk and carefully slid it beneath the folds instead.
Inside sat layers of tissue paper softer than silk.
And beneath them—a gown.
I gasped aloud.
The fabric shimmered like liquid starlight as I lifted it carefully from the box.
Not one shade of blue.
Thousands.
Midnight.
Cerulean.
Cobalt.
Silver.
Deep ocean hues that shifted every time the light touched them.
It looked less like fabric and more like someone had somehow sewn together fragments of the night sky itself.
“This is beautiful,” I whispered.
Emotion clogged my throat instantly.
No one had ever given me something like this before.
I mean yes, I received gifts.
But that was because of obligation and holidays.
No one did something like this just because they wanted to.
Not for me.
My chest ached painfully.
Sten.
It had to be him.
Knowing that warmed me from the inside out.
I hurriedly stepped into the dress.
And nearly cried.
The fabric adjusted instantly against my body, reshaping itself slowly over my curves like living magic.
The waist softened.
The bodice lifted.
The neckline transformed elegantly into an off-shoulder sweetheart shape that somehow made my breasts look incredible without feeling exposed.
I stared at myself in the mirror speechless.
For once I didn’t immediately look for flaws.
Didn’t tug fabric trying to hide my stomach.
Didn’t wish myself thinner.
The dress moved like moonlight around my body.
Soft.
Glittering.
Beautiful.
And somehow—so was I.
Tears blurred my vision unexpectedly.
Gods.
What was happening to me?
How could one man—one Monster—make me feel like this?
I sighed and faced the mirror.
I looked—well—I looked like someone worthy of being wanted.
The thought hit so hard I had to grip the edge of my dresser briefly.
Then I noticed the smaller box hidden beneath the tissue paper.
Inside sat a delicate glass bottle labeled simply:
For your hair.
I laughed softly through lingering tears.
Trusting him immediately, I sprayed several pumps over my faded overprocessed curls.
Magic shimmered instantly through the strands.
Then—color exploded.
Ocean blue flooded my hair in soft waves threaded through with cerulean and azure highlights that gleamed like gemstones beneath the light.
“Oh my gods.”
I looked magical.
Not awkward.
Not unfinished.
Magical.
Hands trembling slightly, I opened the note tucked beneath the box.
Dearest Luna,
I cannot wait to see you tonight.
Wear this as a token of esteem from my heart to yours.
No more secrets. No more lies. Tonight, I will tell you everything.
Yours,
Sten
My heart squeezed so hard it almost hurt.
Yours.
The word settled straight into my soul.
Outside, fireworks exploded across the skies of Asgarheim while enchanted music drifted upward from the courtyards below announcing the official beginning of the Spring Equinox Festival.
I pressed the note tightly against my chest.
And for the first time in my life—I felt like maybe destiny was finally looking back at me.