Chapter 43
43
Anora
A mir teleports us back to the House of Zorah. A man stands in the clearing. I’ve never seen him before. He’s tall, dressed in a sharp suit, blonde hair slicked back, and his green eyes are striking. As we move closer, he lowers his head in a bow. This must be Damon.
Amir steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder.
“My son,” he says.
I glance at Amir, reminded again that he can’t have children of his own. He builds his family through his coven—Kade, his daughter, and now Damon, his son. Damon looks at me and bows his head again.
“Queen Anora, welcome to Wintermoon.”
The title makes me wince, the word “queen” heavy in a way I wasn’t expecting. Amir leans in, kissing my cheek. Then he pulls back, holding a book out toward me.
“It took some work to get this,” he says, something proud in his tone. “But it was worth it. ”
I look at him, then at Damon, who meets Amir’s gaze before speaking.
“You have a mate,” Amir announces. His voice is casual, but the impact of the words hits me.
I snap my head toward Amir. Mate? I narrow my eyes at Damon, and as if sensing my skepticism, he nods. His hand moves towards the side of his neck, brushing back the collar of his shirt just enough to reveal a claim mark.
“Yes, my lord,” Damon says, his voice steady. “She was guarding the book.”
Amir raises a brow, his expression shifting slightly—amused, maybe impressed.
“Fate paired you with an assassin? That’s... perfect for you, my son.”
Amir takes the book from Damon’s hands, his grip firm and sure. My eyes lock onto the book. This is it—the book we’ve been searching for, the one that can destroy dark magic. After everything, we’re finally so close. But something about all of this—Damon’s mate, the timing, this whole moment—feels like the prelude to something bigger.
“Let’s go to my cabin,” Amir says as he takes my hand. Damon steps behind us, following silently.
We make it only a few steps before the air shifts, humming softly with energy. Red, blue, and orange lightning flicker across the sky, vibrant and alive. I tilt my head upward and pause, captivated as three immense shapes emerge through the clouds.
Wings. Massive wings.
The dragons descend slowly, their size breathtaking. When they land, their forms shift, morphing into men.
The largest of the three steps forward first, his eyes glowing orange, his skin a deep, rich chocolate. Beside him, someone similar in build but distinctly different—the lines of his face sharper, his eyes burning fire red. The third is smaller, his presence heavier. His eyes are a swirling stormy blue, daring and electric.
Amir’s grip on my hand tightens, just enough to let me know he’s noticed them too.
The three drop into bows before us.
“No,” Amir starts, his voice firm. “Ash Clan. You don’t have to bow to me.”
Before Amir can press the issue, Kade materializes in front of us, cutting him off.
“Give it up, Father,” she says, smirking just enough to irritate him. Her voice, sharp with sarcasm, carries a note of finality. “You are our king, whether you like it or not.”
Amir glares at her, frustration flickering in his features, but he doesn’t push the point. With a muttered sigh, he lets it go. The Ash Clan warriors rise, their attention shifting toward me.
They smile—not out of amusement, but something warmer. It catches me off guard, though their presence alone brings an ache to my chest. I remember what they’ve lost, what they’ve endured.
“Ash Clan,” I murmur, my voice just loud enough for them to hear. I feel pulled between welcoming them and mourning the burden they bear.
Kade steps forward and gestures to them. “This is Valek, the alpha, and Sam, his brother. He’s the lead physician and surgeon of Wintermoon Medical.” Sam bows his head to me and I smile at him. “And this is Tyrion, a new member of Ash Clan. He was originally from another Clan, called Stormscale. He’s fated to Sam and Valek’s sister.” She explains, and I wave at them.
“Hi!” I say, but they just bow to me again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the royal gestures, but if I want to stay with Amir, I think I’m going to have to eventually.
The cabin door creaks open across the clearing. Hazel steps out, the light framing her as she moves. She doesn’t acknowledge Amir or speak to any of the others. Instead, she walks straight past me and onto the grass, heading for Damon.
“Alright,” she says as she stops in front of him, her voice brisk and focused. “Let’s figure out how to end this.”
She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and walking toward Amir’s cabin. Damon follows immediately. Amir and I don’t need to speak as we fall in line behind her, the others trailing closely.
When we’re inside, the room feels instantly heavier. Amir steps forward, book in hand, while the others spread out around us. The House of Zorah warriors—Kane, Levi, Micah, and Gabriel—keep a measured distance, watchful.
Amir pauses briefly before placing a hand over the book. I can feel the shift in energy as he casts a spell. The book glows gold and gray, the light flickering between the colors as the pages begin to turn. Hazel and Angie step forward, moving closer to Amir’s side to see what’s written.
The room is silent, every eye drawn to the book as the spell takes hold. The house’s warmth doesn’t reach me. My focus is locked on those delicate pages, their glow hinting at secrets we’ve chased for too long. We’re finally here. How close are we to ending this?
“I hope this book works,” Angie says, pacing near the counter. “Because that spell I put on the Witching Glen is only going to hold for 24 hours max.” Her words snap through the quiet.
Amir smirks at her. “The distraction Aya is counting on,” he says. He stretches his hand toward me, palm up .
I hesitate, but then I step closer, skirting the floating book nervously. His hand finds mine, warm and steady, pulling me against his chest.
The book’s pages flutter on their own, moving faster and faster until they suddenly stop. Slowly, the book drifts down to the small kitchen table, lying open. Amir, Angie, and Hazel lean in immediately, scanning the pages.
I look at them, then at the book, stepping closer. “I can’t see anything.” My voice comes out quieter than I meant it to. “The pages are blank.”
Amir pulls back, his mouth tightening. It’s quick, but I catch it—the crack in his expression, the flash of worry he’s trying to hide.
“You don’t have your full powers yet,” he says gently. “The pages will look blank to you.”
I bite back frustration, looking between all of them. “Then what’s there? What does it say? What do we need to destroy dark magic?”
Amir doesn’t answer right away. His silence tightens something in my chest. Angie and Hazel exchange a look, but neither of them speaks. I glance down at the book again. Blank. Still blank. I flip a few of the pages furiously, like maybe the words will just show up if I try hard enough. Nothing.
“Anora,” Amir says finally, and I look at him.
His mouth opens, but no words come out.
“Alright, no. This is getting ridiculous.” My voice rises. “You’re all starting to freak me out. Angie, Hazel—what’s in the book?”
Angie exhales sharply, the sound sharp and heavy. She looks like she’s about to answer, but Hazel steps forward, cutting her off.
Blank face. Flat tone. “The book requires a life. ”
The words sink in immediately, and my mouth snaps shut. I stare at her, my mind racing to piece it together, to reject it. But there’s nothing to reject—it’s clear. In order to end dark magic, someone has to die.
Of course. Of course it has to be this way. It was never going to be simple or fair.
“There has to be another way,” I say desperately, but Amir shakes his head, his eyes steady as he looks at all of us.
“I’ll do it,” Hazel says quickly, stepping forward. “This started with me. I broke the curse. I?—”
Amir lifts a hand, cutting her off. His voice, softer but firm, carries over hers. “You didn’t start this, Hazel. None of this is your fault. It started with me.” He straightens, his shoulders set. “So, it will end with me. This burden is mine to carry. Tomorrow, I’ll cast the spell.” His calm declaration fills the room, but it leaves a sharp, hollow ache in its wake.
Angie lowers her head, retreating a step like she doesn’t want him to see the sorrow on her face.
I just stand there, staring at him, the reality hitting me harder than I expected. Tears well up in my eyes as I take a shaky step back. “No,” I whisper. My voice picks up as I keep going. “No, the hell you’re not. Amir, you’re not doing this!” My heart is pounding. “I just got you. You can’t do this. I can’t?—”
He’s in front of me before I can finish. His hands cup my face, pulling me close, his calm strength pressing against my panic.
“This is my destiny, Anora,” he whispers. “I won’t let anyone else pay this price for me.”
My breath catches in my chest. My hands hit his chest, a half-hearted shove that doesn’t move him an inch. “And I’m just supposed to live without you? That’s what you want me to do? No. I can’t. Don’t ask me to. ”
“Anora—”
“I mean it,” I interrupt, my voice snapping under the strain. I push myself away from him, turning to face the others. My eyes dart from face to face—Hazel, Angie, Damon, Kade, the Ash Clan, the House of Zorah warriors. They all avoid my gaze, their heads bowed slightly like they’ve already accepted what Amir is saying.
And that’s when it hits me. It’s real. This is it. There’s no other option. To rid the world of dark magic, I have to lose him.
Something ignites in me—a fury I didn’t know I had. A heat rises in my chest, scorching through my veins, tearing through my breath. It feels cruel. A sick, twisted game. Fate gave me a mate, let me feel what it was like to love and be loved, only to take it all away.
I start to shake, the heat swirling and building until it’s unbearable. “I hate this,” I whisper, teeth grinding together. My hands ball into fists, and the room feels too small, too quiet, too suffocating.
“Anora—” Amir’s voice reaches for me, but I stagger back, out of his reach.
The room feels unfocused. Their silence lingers in the air, and I feel frustration building inside me. Angie finally looks up at me, but I can’t quite read her expression.
“Anora!” she calls out sharply, but I’m too far gone.
The heat is overwhelming. Anger, grief, helplessness—all of it. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside out, electric and charged. I blink once, twice, and then I realize my feet have left the ground.
I’m floating. Levitating. Everyone in the room is staring, but the fury boiling inside me doesn’t stop. It doesn’t care. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning everything out.
I’ve spent my entire life alone. Dreaming of Amir. He was always out of reach, close enough to see, to imagine what it would feel like to touch him—but never close enough to have. My life was nothing but waiting, dreaming, surviving just to exist. And then everything changed. I had him. I had hope. I had purpose.
Now it feels like it’s all slipping away. Like I’m being dragged back into that suffocating nothingness—the place where I started. They should’ve just left me to rot. Why let me hope? Why pull me into this life, into this dream, only to rip it away? I hate this. I hate all of it.
That’s when it happens.
A sudden wave of power tears through me like an explosion, raw and untamed. It expands outward, overwhelming me with its force. It’s fire and ice. Electric and suffocating. I feel it spiraling, spreading, rushing through every part of me.
I can’t breathe. Gold light shimmers in my vision—no, from me—radiating out like it’s alive. It pours from my fingers, from my skin, and I feel it most in my eyes, glowing so brightly that it blurs the edges of the room.
I blink once, and my vision clears just enough to find Amir.
He’s staring, his face frozen in awe, like he’s forgotten how to move. His lips part slightly, but he says nothing, his gaze never leaving me. Then, slowly, he lifts his hand, reaching for me.
My heart skips, and even through the whirlwind of magic, I reach back for him.
But before our fingers touch, something sharp and heavy slices through the energy between us. A book—large and ancient—materializes out of thin air, floating briefly before dropping into the space between us.
I pull back, eyes wide as the power swirling around me wavers. The golden glow dims, and the heaviness of exhaustion crashes into me all at once. My legs give out, gravity taking hold.
I start to fall.
But before I hit the ground, strong arms wrap around me, catching me. Amir. I collapse against his chest, and he holds me tightly, his heartbeat steady under my ear.
I feel... different. My body feels weak, frail, like the power burned through me and left me hollow. My eyelids feel so heavy I can barely keep them open.
“Oh my god,” Hazel gasps from across the room.
There’s a loud thud as the book falls heavily onto the table, landing directly on top of The Book of the First .
Amir doesn’t even glance at it. His eyes are locked on mine as he cradles me, his expression soft and filled with something that feels like pride. I look up at him weakly, forcing a small smile, and he smiles back down at me, brighter than I expected.
“Anora,” he says gently, his voice almost tender. “My sweet angel. You’ve done it. You finally got your powers.”
I try to speak, but I’m too weak. All I can manage is a faint smile.
“And she just summoned my mother’s spell book,” Hazel adds in disbelief, her gaze snapping from the glowing book to me.
“This... this is in my spell book,” Angie stammers, moving closer to the table, her voice laced with confusion. She looks at Hazel, then down at me. “There’s a prophecy about a shift in power. But it was supposed to be me. The shift was supposed to happen to me ... a Blackwood.”
Amir looks up at her, and the soft amazement in his smile twists into something more like triumph. “My mate is a Blackwood,” he announces, his fingers brushing along my arm like it’s a fact he’s always known.
I hear a murmur ripple through the room. Amir’s words linger, and everyone’s gaze lands on me. They’re studying me differently now—almost like I’m not the same person anymore.
“She is a Blackwood,” Amir goes on, glancing briefly at the others. “It’s in her blood. Kade, Damon, the House of Zorah—they all smell it too. They know. I’ve always known. From future Anora.”
“What?” I whisper. My voice is barely audible, and even saying that feels like too much energy. My eyelids are dragging lower and lower, this exhaustion pulling harder at me.
“It’s okay, angel,” Amir murmurs, stroking my hair as my body settles deeper into his arms. “Sleep. We can talk about it later.”
“Not to ruin the moment,” Kade cuts in sharply, her voice like a bucket of cold water, “but with that book here, and the limited hold we have on the Witching Glen, we’re running out of time. Aya’s going to show her face soon. We should assume by morning.”
Amir adjusts me in his arms, standing taller, and his voice shifts. It’s steady and commanding, filled with the certainty of someone determined. “Then let her come. I know my duty, and I will not fail this time.”
The words linger, sharp and final, reminding everyone why we’re here.
Amir leans down slightly, looking at me again. His face softens momentarily as he holds me closer. “Now, let me spend one final moment with my mate,” he says quietly.
The room falls silent.
His words crash into me like a second wave. Final moment. I won’t accept it. I won’t let this happen .
“No!” I try to push myself from his arms, but my body refuses to cooperate. My voice is weak, shaking, and it fades out as exhaustion claims me.
My eyelids fall completely shut, and the darkness rushes in.
But it doesn’t feel like sleep. It feels like something... else. Something I can’t explain.