Chapter 32
Hope
“The sky here seems different,” she said, admiring the night from one of the bridges over the lake.
The West House, just behind where they stood, appeared to have a private conversation with the sky, the multiple crystals on its walls reflecting the endless abundance of stars above.
From here, more than anywhere she had felt before, the night seemed alive. A supremely powerful entity.
“I always thought it was my courtrade blood and my West blood that made me feel more connected to the night from here.” In his embrace from behind, with his arms around her waist, Ciaran’s fingers brushed hers lightly.
She turned her head to look into the blue depth of his eyes. “Your scent has always been pure night and pine, which is…this. The West, this darkness, the brightness of these stars, you, your magic. All of this, all of you—it’s intoxicating.”
“Intoxicating in what way, bloodrose?” he whispered next to her ear, sending goosebumps to every part of her.
The low tone of his voice, the closeness of his lips to her throat, the way his voice caressed her skin like an invisible shadow…
The apex of her thighs tightened in need for more, in desire to be not only surrounded by his scent and magic but also to feel him inside of her, filling her, making her fully and utterly his—because if there was anything in this world she truly was, it was his.
She had no doubt he could perfectly sense, probably even smell, the exact way she found it intoxicating, but he waited for her words.
“I want our bodies united together, sealed forever. I want the darkness of night and the red moon as witnesses of a bond that awaited centuries to be fulfilled, and will now certainly never be undone,” she whispered.
His chest inflated with much more than just air, and he offered her his biological hand as he said, “Then let me show you the real power of the night.”
Every fiber of her being quivered, yet she pressed her palm against his without hesitation. Every cell in her trusted him—completely, utterly, without question.
From his fingertips, shadows spiraled and twisted, forming a blindfold over her eyes. It pulsed, alive, protective—intimate. The touch of his hand against hers was enough for her to feel the warmth of his presence guiding her through the pine-scented woods.
Each step echoed softly on the forest floor, leaves crunching beneath their feet. Her body hummed in response, aware of his closeness, shivering as trails of thin shadows traced along her skin.
They walked and walked into the mountains around the West House. The scent of him and the night, of the pine woods that reminded her of growing up in Verdania, somehow increasing by the second. No enchanting magic could be as powerful as this feeling—as this need.
When he removed the blindfold, the world exploded into hypnotic brilliance.
Above them, Llunal’s stars burned with impossible clarity, scattered across the sky like diamonds.
Like Llunal’s very own masterpiece. Below, a naturally carved pool glimmered—perfect, ancient, and inviting.
The surface reflected the constellations as if holding the universe itself on its glassy surface.
“This is the Mending Waters,” Ciaran said reverently. “The most ancient restorative pool in the West Petal. It has healed countless beings over centuries. Only the night speaks here.”
The beautiful pool seemed to be alive, its waters completely transparent and clear crystalline. Like the walls of the West House, multiple precious crystals and gems were buried into its ancient, raw walls.
Hope’s breath caught. Her body tingled with awareness, some of her Cardinal-red sparks consciously leaping to meet the residual shadows lingering from him, caressing her thighs and the small of her back.
She shivered, trembling with anticipation and desire.
Every heartbeat sent flickers of magic dancing across her, whispering promises and pleas she could not voice.
She swallowed, shivering at the scent of pine and night, the same soothing aroma that always clung to him.
She let her sparks trace themselves across her skin, winding along arms, shoulders, thighs.
Shadows crept alongside them, twisting, flickering, coiling.
Every touch of her magic, every pulse, became a wordless language: I want you… I need you… I trust you… I love you…
Ciaran’s breath hitched. He cupped her face, and his lips brushed hers, slow, deliberate, tasting, claiming.
Her sparks danced faster, red and bright against the dark shadows of his magic.
She gasped into his mouth, moaning, her hands skimming over the hard planes of his body, memorizing, feeling every taut muscle, every line of his arms, chest, waist.
Their hands moved with careful intent, undressing each other inch by inch, exploring every curve, every muscle, every line.
When they were both fully naked except for the two Lawful Stabs attached to Hope’s leg, they sat on the rocky edge of the Mending Waters, their desire glazing the focus of their eyes as they drank each other in.
When Ciaran jumped in, his whole body lit up, a thin coat of glittering water covering up to the middle of his muscled abdomen.
He surrounded her waist with his firm arms, embracing her closer as her legs surrounded his torso, and then he lifted her and brought her body into the water.
The feeling of the liquid against her body was unnatural, too perfect, too rejuvenating, too powerful not to be magic. The feeling of the man she clung to as he pressed her closer to him was indescribable.
It was the first time their bodies finally met fully, and the heat, the friction, the desperate pressing of skin against skin exploded.
Ciaran groaned into her hair, low and rough, and she arched, rocking against him, every inch of her screaming to feel him, to take him, to be taken by him.
His hands roamed her body, fingers tracing the curves, the planes, every hidden hollow, memorizing, claiming, promising never to let go.
The world had narrowed to the burning needs of their bodies.
Her nails dug into the planes of his back, her body pressing impossibly close.
Desire roared through her, desperate and wild.
His hands roamed her curves, memorizing, grounding her as she surrendered to him completely.
Every shiver, every gasp, every whispered plea wove them tighter, skin and shadow, spark and sweat.
Her core ached so much with need she thought she could die.
She felt his hardness between their bodies, pressing against her opening and her clit. Her hand seemed to be shaped to hold it, to caress it, to wield him.
Hope clung to him, pulling him closer, hips pressing, thighs wrapping, lips on neck, shoulders; every shiver, every tremor she could give, she gave.
“Ciaran. My Ciaran,” she whispered, trembling.
Every word anchored them, fused their desire with trust, every syllable igniting centuries-old magic and destiny intertwined bodies.
“I’ve never—never felt like this,” she breathed, shaking, tears of longing stinging her eyes.
“I want you… I want you entirely. Please, Ciaran.”
And he answered—not with words, but with the fierce, desperate thrust of his body into hers.
She cried out, and the world narrowed to the friction of his long hardness inside her, the slick heat of her desire. Every movement, every roll, every shiver was raw, unrestrained, carnal, exquisite in its intensity.
He groaned, voice low. “My Hope. Every century, every hour, every minute, I’ve waited for this.”
Stars reflected in the surrounding water, red moonlight catching the spray from their movements, their bodies trembling, each pulse and shudder a drumbeat to the primal rhythm they had both been starving for.
His thrusts became insistent, deep, consuming. She cried out, arching, pressing closer and clinging onto his back as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. Every inch of her ached to be claimed, to be filled, to be completely his.
His shadowed hands clenched her hips, his fingertips settling in her flesh because that’s where they belonged.
Every motion was a promise made centuries ago but only now being fulfilled.
The surrounding air shimmered with sparks and darkness, the night itself leaning closer to watch, to hold them, to witness the surrender and hunger of two beings bound by fate, magic, and longing.
Ciaran’s lips moved against her shoulder, neck, collarbone, biting, tasting, claiming, owning.
Her nails raked down his spine, her body trembling with want.
Shadows twisted around her, coaxing her into him, while red sparks danced in flickering trails across her arms and chest, a fated dance of magic only they could understand.
Her moans mingled with his low growls as the water rippled with their bodies. “Ciaran… I’m yours… all of me…” Her voice broke, pleading, trusting. She clung to him, every nerve on edge.
When the climax hit, it was an explosion of every suppressed want, every heartbeat, every spark and shadow coiling together into a storm that left them trembling, wet, spent, utterly raw.
Hope clung to him, sobbing, her body shaking, every nerve alive, while Ciaran groaned low, burying his face in her hair, holding her like she was the last thing in the world worth protecting.
For a moment, the world felt infinite, a perfect union of desire, magic, and love.
And then—silence.
Except it wasn’t quiet.
The world shifted. Ciaran’s eyes widened in shock, his chest tightening.
“Llunal shade me. No. No,” he begged, panic flashing. His hands flew over them both, trying to recreate the safety that had vanished. “Hope, my shadows—”
Hope grabbed his metallic arm, searching his eyes. “Ciaran, what is it?”
“I failed in my most important job: protecting you,” he choked, voice ragged. “Without my shadows, we are—you are—exposed.”
Then she felt it. She had grown so accustomed to his shadows being around, playfully and distractedly lingering with her body, that she forgot there wasn’t a shadow wielded that wasn’t intentional. And apparently, all along, his shadows had been her protection.
He removed his length from her, and he dressed them both in full-shadow outfits similar to the fully black courtrade outfits.
Still in the water, she Gave herself all the belts and daggers she had left by the edge of the Mending Waters.
The Black and Red Lawful Stabs had never abandoned her body, they had remained close to her Core blood from their sheaths on two tight belts on her lower leg.
“Exposed to whom?” she asked, fearing the answer.
His shadows were in place a whisper later, but by then, Hope could hear the flapping sound of wings approaching in the no-longer-silent sky. The sangins were hungry.
“The Cardinal Queen and her beasts,” he said.
As if the mention of its owner had activated it, below them, in the center of the pool, the heart piece revealed itself, carved into the wall of the Mending Waters, next to many precious crystals.
This piece of heart was perfect, alive, cared for by the most ancient, restorative and healing waters.
The piece of heart stirred. Not slowly. Not waiting. It leapt, glimmering and furious, tearing itself from its pedestal of crystal, streaking through the water like a shard of night aimed straight for Ciaran’s chest.
Hope didn’t think. She moved.
Her body threw itself between him and the oncoming organ, her hand striking forward, bare, unshielded.
The impact was instant—searing. Black ink exploded across her skin from where her palm held the piece of heart, sinking into her veins, rushing up her fingers like molten chains.
It was vicious, merciless, a living brand. Her body convulsed, but she held on, teeth bared in a ragged cry.
“No—Hope!” Ciaran roared, trying to wrench her back, shadows scrambling desperately to shield her. “Here,” he said, creating a cage of shadows where she deposited the healed piece of organ.
Her wild eyes locked on Ciaran’s. “It’s in my hand—her ink is just in my hand—” Her voice broke, terror and resolve clashing. “You have to destroy it, please. Now. Cut it off.”
His entire body went rigid. “Hope—no—”
“Yes!” she cried, holding the corrupted hand out to him, her other gripping his arm in desperation. The black veins pulsed faster, clawing toward her wrist. “The Cardinal Queen’s magic in my blood will be our end. You know it. Cut it off before it takes me.”
Realization and deep rage settled into his stare. Ciaran’s shadows shivered, lengthening into a blade in his trembling grip. His face was carved in torment, every line a silent refusal.
Hope pressed her blackened hand closer to him, her voice ragged but resolute. “Do it. Before it takes more of me. She doesn’t deserve any more of my body.”
“Hope—” His throat closed around her name. Shadows rippled violently, resisting his command, mirroring his own hesitation.
She seized his wrist with her clean hand, guiding the edge of darkness toward her own flesh. “I trust you. With my life. Always.”
For a breathless second, the world stilled. Then his shadows fell.
There was a sharp hiss, a burst of searing heat, and it was done.
Hope gasped, body jolting as the cursed hand dropped to the ground, still twitching with black veins before dissolving into nothingness. The corruption writhed and died with it, cut short.
She collapsed into him, her arm pressed tight against her chest, trembling from pain and grief. Ciaran gathered her instantly, shadows wrapping around her like a desperate embrace, his voice breaking as he whispered, “I’m sorry. Llunal shade me, Hope, I’m so sorry.”
Her face, pale but steady, lifted to his. “Don’t be. You saved me—you always will.”
She was going to Heal herself with her single hand, but instead, she pushed the amputated limb into the Mending Waters, and the skin scarred immediately, neatly, as if the wound was from years ago. The pain was gone, but not the loss.
Silent tears gleamed in his blue eyes, fury and fear warring inside him, but he only held her closer, as if afraid she might vanish if he let go.
The night was a living thing, Llunal’s stars and the West Cardinal Healing magic silent witnesses to their union and their subsequent demise. Sparks flared, shadows twisted, and their bodies entwined—love, desire, trust, and danger fused into a single, impossible, intoxicating moment.
For a long time, they remained there, clinging, holding, feeling, trusting, bodies and souls intertwined. The world beyond the pool could wait. The danger beyond the shadows would wait. In the Mending Waters, under the red moon and Llunal’s eternal stars, they were infinite.