Chapter 44 #2
Dayn’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, his gaze locked on Esther with a sharp, unflinching intensity.
I can almost taste the bitterness rising in him, like every drop of bad blood is boiling in this single moment.
“On the topic of defense,” he says, his tone deceptively even, “as you’re well aware by now, one of the most senior spirits of your coven—and one of the Salem family—had her own suggestion.
Where is she? Why wasn’t she invited to breakfast? ”
My breath catches in my chest. It’s a brilliant move, really—dragging Helena into the light, hopefully forcing some straight answers out of her at last, and putting her ideas on the table for everyone to dissect.
I witnessed Helena disappear in the strangest—and frankly now suspicious—circumstances, but Dayn told me he saw her after that, so she must still be somewhere within reach.
Dominic and Esther exchange a glance, something unspoken passing between them. Esther’s mouth twitches, a clear flicker of displeasure cracking her serene mask, but Dominic nods, his expression unchanging.
“That’s a fair question,” he says calmly. “Esther, why don’t you call her?”
Esther’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t argue. She raises one hand, her fingers tracing a subtle glyph in the air that shimmers with dark energy. The symbol hangs there for a heartbeat, pulsing, before dissolving into wisps of shadow that snake away through the graveyard mist.
I wait in uneasy silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
Then, a figure emerges—but it’s not the faint, flickering form I last saw.
Her form is, oddly, darker and more opaque, but not in the way Esther and Dominic are.
Her expression is strained and there’s a strange sluggishness, a heaviness, to her form, almost like she’s wrapped in something against her will.
“Are you alright, Helena?” I ask.
She meets my eyes but doesn’t respond.
“Have a seat, Helena,” Esther says, gesturing to an empty chair beside her.
Helena positions herself over it, “sitting” as well as spirits can. Her eyes don’t leave mine though.
Dayn’s warm hand finds mine, and then I know he’s seeing Helena too across the table, his eyes locking on her position.
I can feel the subtle shift in him, the way his breath catches just a fraction, enough to tell me this hits him deeper than he’s letting on.
She was his longtime ally, someone he worked closely with for who knows how many decades.
It must be difficult seeing her reduced to… this.
But he doesn’t let it show beyond that brief flicker. He leans forward, his voice steady as he takes the lead.
“Helena,” he says. “You told Esme something recently. Something you said was important. Can you repeat it for us now?”
She nods, the movement slow, but then she draws herself up, her voice gaining strength as she speaks.
“I told Esme that you should complete your union. Flesh to flesh, soul to soul… light and darkness bonding, fully. The dragon and the darkblood becoming one. No hesitation. No doubt. That is the way forward.”
Esther scoffs. “Sentimental drivel,” she says, her dark eyes narrowing at Helena with something close to disdain. “As if fairy-tale unions could solve anything in this world. We’ve moved beyond such talk.”
Helena’s spectral form flickers, but she holds her ground, her gaze steady on me and Dayn. The air between each of them feels charged, like two storm fronts colliding, and I can sense old tensions bubbling up—generations of Salem grudges playing out right here at this bizarre breakfast table.
Dayn’s grip on my hand tightens. “If it’s drivel, then explain to me why you’ve been pushing it, Helena. What’s the magical foundation behind it? The ‘science,’ if you will. Why do you think this union would actually help, beyond vague notions of balance?”
I glance at him, impressed by how he keeps his voice level, probing without tipping into anger, even though I know he’s simmering underneath. Helena’s form steadies, her eyes lighting with a faint, ethereal glow as she meets his stare.
“It’s no vague notion,” she replies, her voice gaining confidence.
“The science, as you call it, lies in the convergence of essences. Dragonfire and shadowblood aren’t opposites to war but complements to forge.
When fully bonded, flesh to flesh and soul to soul, they create a resonance that amplifies beyond individual power.
It’s a catalyst, Dayn. One that could trigger an end to the cycles of destruction we’ve been trapped in. Not just for you, for all of us.”
I frown. “I still don’t get it. How would it practically work? How could it practically make a difference? I get that our magic, when combined, is powerful and able to accomplish… unexpected things. But the level of scale you’re talking about… it’s hard to picture. Hard to believe.”
“The bonds you share are foundations, Esme, but they’re currently incomplete,” she replies.
“They bind your blood, your names, even fragments of your spirits, but not your wholes. To truly converge, you must give yourselves to each other fully. Flesh to flesh, yes, but more than that: soul to soul, without barriers. It’s a surrender, a merging where your essences entwine completely.
Only then does the spiritual bond forge beyond what you already have—a link so profound it transcends individual power, creating something new.
A resonance that could force the heal of rifts, counter imbalances that have plagued us for centuries… ”
“What’s your evidence for this?” Esther interrupts. “How would you even know?”
“I’ve been dead for centuries longer than you, Esther,” Helena replies, bitterness tinging her tone. “Death grants a certain clarity. Time to think. To reflect on every scrap of knowledge gathered in life and see the patterns more clearly than the living ever allow themselves to.”
Her gaze shifts briefly to me and Dayn before returning to Esther.
“No, I never witnessed such a union in my lifetime. But I studied dragon magic, mage bloodlines, darkblood inheritances—enough to know that none of them were ever meant to exist in isolation. They are fragments of the same design, split apart and forced into opposition. Everything I learned pointed to the same conclusion: true convergence was always possible. Rare, yes. Dangerous, perhaps. But possible.”
She straightens, her spectral form almost seeming more solid.
“And if it is possible, then it is not merely a romance or some childish fairy tale. It is power. The kind of power that could heal what centuries of pride, fear, and war have broken.”
The graveyard falls into silence but for the whisper of wind through the trees. I’m staring at the specter of my great, great, great grandmother, wondering how her words resonate so deeply. I have no proof, but somehow… it feels like truth.
Dayn is completely still too, as if he’s experiencing the same feeling, his hand staying firm around mine.
Finally, Dominic breaks the quiet. “That makes sense,” he says, voice calm.
We all turn to him, the focus on Helena fracturing for a moment.
He leans back slightly in his chair, his dark eyes settling on me. “There is, however, one problem.”
Esther’s expression tightens, but she says nothing, letting him continue.
“Esther created a bond with me,” he says.
“That’s how we’ve achieved these solid forms—it’s based on an anchor in you, Esme.
Specifically, you’ve been spiritually bonded to me.
That anchor is what allowed me to return so seamlessly and subsequently assume this form and then…
assist Esther. The bond was weak at first, but it’s been slowly, gradually strengthening, particularly since you stepped back into Darkbirch.
” Dominic’s gaze doesn’t waver from me. “This means your bond with Dayn is split, incomplete. It will never be full or true. Not unless you first sever the bond with me. Which could be done, but it would be... tricky.”
The revelation hits me like a slap, stealing the air from my lungs. I stare at him, then at Esther, my mind reeling.
Bonded? I’m actually bonded? Like soul-bonded? To Dominic?
The word echoes in my head like some twisted joke, a violation I never consented to. Dayn’s grip on my hand turns viselike, his heat surging to a near-scalding level, but I barely register it over the roar in my ears.
Esther meets my gaze calmly, as if this is just another piece of a necessary plan, while the rest of the table erupts into shocked murmurs—Jax cursing under his breath, Brynn demanding explanations, Mom’s face paling.
But all I can focus on is the sickening truth settling in my gut. I’ve been tethered to Dominic this whole time. Bound by a string I never knew existed. And now, that invisible thread is the thing standing between me and everything Helena promised.
Two men. I’m bonded to two ancient, supernatural men.
Two bonds I never even asked for. I could hardly keep up with one. And now it seems one of those ties might cost me the other?
What in the actual hell?