Chapter Fifty
KAEL
I kiss Elyssara on the forehead as she sleeps, sinking deep into the furs, naked but warm under blankets that make her seem so fragile, so small.
I should stay. Should keep my arms around her, bury my face in her hair, lose myself in her warmth.
But duty pulls me away. I need to talk to Therion.
An ache sits heavy in my chest, deep and dull—like a second heartbeat that doesn’t belong to me. A sensation so foreign that I press my palm against my sternum, as if I can physically quiet it. It’s not pain. It’s not desire. It’s awareness. A tether.
Even as I slide my boots on and step out into the night, I still feel her.
The fire burns low, embers crackling softly. Most of the camp sleeps, but Therion remains, seated by the flames, staring into them as if they hold the answers he’s looking for. Smoke curls through the air, thick with charred wood and distant rain.
He doesn’t look up, but he knows I’m here.
He tosses a flask in my direction. Silverwake.
I take a swig, letting the burn chase away the tension curling in my gut. But I don’t hand it back. Not yet.
Therion exhales through his nose, “So... are we still using her?”
My fingers tighten around the flask.
Therion finally looks at me, gaze cutting and calculating. “Or have you decided to choose a girl over this entire fucking war we’ve been planning for ten years?”
I clench my jaw, restraining myself from punching him in the throat.
Before I can get a word out, he keeps going.
“You’ve had plenty of women before, Kael. It’s never made you reckless.” His tone sharpens. “Or fucking stupid.”
A growl rises in my throat. I will rip him apart for this.
“This isn't about fucking her, Therion,” I bite out, the words like sharpened steel. “It's... more than that.”
He studies me, realization flickering over his face like a blade catching moonlight.
His posture shifts. His anger dims just enough to let something else creep in.
“Then what is it?”
I swallow thickly. My fingers flex. The words feel dangerous, like speaking them aloud will make them permanent.
But I say them anyway.
“I can feel her.”
Therion stills. But not in the way he does before a fight—not the slow, assessing stillness of a warrior calculating his next move. No, this is something else. Something closer to disbelief.
His brow furrows. His fingers tighten around the flask. “What?”
“Even when I’m not with her. I can... sense her.”
The words settle in the space between us, heavy and irrevocable.
And Stars help me, but it’s the first time I’ve let myself acknowledge it.
“It’s like a thread between us I never meant to pull.”
Therion flinches. Not visibly—never visibly—but I see it in the way his fingers tense around the flask, the brief, fractional shift of his shoulders.
“No,” he says flatly, but his voice isn’t as sharp as before. “No, that’s not—” He shakes his head once, as if trying to shake off the words. “That’s not possible. It can’t be.”
But the way his breathing turns shallow, the way his gaze flicks over me like he’s searching for a crack—it tells me he knows I’m not lying.
It tells me he’s afraid I might be right.
I drag a hand over my chest again, pressing against the ache. “It’s like she’s within me. Entwined. Mine somehow.”
Therion’s jaw clenches. His breathing turns shallow. “Fuck,” he mutters, his entire posture rigid. “That’s not... possible. I can’t sense anything within her other than her magic.” But I already know this goes beyond his Aetherstride abilities. This is something... other.
Therion exhales through his nose, eyes locked on the fire, and says nothing.
Silence falls heavy between us.
Therion’s stare sharpens, his mind calculating in real-time.
I force myself to breathe through the tension in my ribs. Through the absolute certainty settling into my bones.
Therion leans back on his hands, inhaling deeply. Then—his voice softer, but no less edged, “So what now? What does this mean?”
I don’t hesitate.
“It means we’ll find another way.”
Therion exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Kael—”
“No.” There is nothing uncertain in my tone. Nothing to argue against. “She is not a pawn. We’ll find another way.”
Therion leans forward, dragging his hands through his hair—exhaustion and frustration settling into his posture.
He braces his arms on his knees, flask dangling from his fingers.
“We don’t have another way, brother.” He exhales audibly.
“We’ve been trying for years. This—she—was our last hope.
” He steels himself then, knowing that whatever he’s about to say will toe a line I won’t like, “And,” his eyes penetrating, “she is a pawn.”
My patience snaps.
I turn to face him fully, my voice like shattered stone.
“So if it were Seren? If we were meant to use her—would you be fine with that?”
The words hit him like a strike to the ribs. His head whips toward me so fast I think he might actually throw the flask at my head.
Silence.
Not even the fire cracks between us.
Therion swallows once. Twice. His jaw flexes. “That’s not the same.”
I let the silence stretch until he meets my stare again.
“Isn’t it?” My tone is even. Controlled. “I see the way you look at her. Would you throw her to the monsters and let them destroy her?” I seethe.
He shakes his head vehemently, words not forthcoming. His throat bobs. I’ve clearly struck a nerve. “This is different, Kael.” His voice is quieter. But we both know it’s a lie.
I lean in, resting my elbows on my knees. “No, it’s not.”
Therion exhales hard, frustration twisting his features. “And you think Maldrak will just give us another way? That he’ll just let us rewrite the game because your heart—or worse, your cock—is dictating strategy?”
“I will not say it again without drawing my blade—this isn’t about fucking her.”
Therion scoffs, but there’s an edge to it. “Then what? What is it, Kael? Because whatever this is, it’s irrational—”
I turn to him fully, teeth bared in a snarl, voice like a war drum. “I would burn down the fucking realms for her.”
The words hang between us like a blade.
Therion’s breath stutters. A rare slip.
He looks at me then, truly looks at me, and whatever he sees in my face makes his expression go blank.
No anger. No calculation. Just understanding.
Because he finally knows.
Finally fucking knows.
I’m lost in this. And there’s no pulling me back.
The fire crackles in the silence.
A long moment passes.
Then, he exhales, shaking his head. His tone is dry, but the weight of his words is heavy. “Stars save you.”
I let the silence stretch between us, thick and unyielding. Therion prays to the Stars, but I already know—
“They won’t.”
Therion drags a hand down his face. “You're really fucking doing this, aren’t you?”
I don’t even hesitate, “I am.”
He swears under his breath, his whole body going slack as he shakes his head again. Another long silence.
“Fuck,” Therion mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “You really are lost to this, brother?”
He stares at the fire for a long moment, jaw clenched, shaking his head like he’s trying to find another argument—another way to change my mind.
But there isn’t one.
“Fine,” he finally exhales, voice gruff. Begrudging. Defeated.
“We’ll figure something else out. But if we die because of this, I’m haunting you in the afterlife.”
I smirk, the first ghost of amusement in this entire conversation. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Therion groans, tipping his head back to the Stars. “Stars save me, I fucking hate you.”
“You don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” he mutters. Then, cutting me a glare, “But if you ever tell her how soft you’ve gone, I will personally slit your throat.”
I laugh. A real fucking laugh.
The tension shifts. The decision is made.
We are not using Elyssara.
We will find another way.
And no matter what’s already been written in the Stars—I’ll have her. I’ll keep her.
And I’ll win my godsdamned war.