Epilogue
D awson had flown to the edge of Aeris Academy, into the depths of the Woods of Whispers, until he stood at the cliff’s edge. Wind tugged at his hair as he stared at the horizon, wishing he were anyone else.
The year had tested him in ways he’d never imagined. Twisted him into someone he barely recognized. The last few weeks had been nothing short of a dream; moments in the garden had set what was left of his soul ablaze.
That gods-damned fucking kiss. He’d fought against it for so long, done his best to keep his distance, but he’d surrendered to what he’d been fighting for months . And now he was ruined.
He’d gotten a taste of what it felt like to hold her, to kiss her, to pretend—just for a heartbeat—that she was his .
He was doomed.
The memory of her mouth on his, the sound of his name on her lips, the way she melted against him—it would haunt him for the rest of his cursed existence.
He hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t wanted to be drawn to her. He’d fought it every step of the way. She wasn’t his. But he was in love with her—and it was an absolute fucking disaster.
Primal anger surged at the thought of anyone else laying a hand on her. She was brilliant and beautiful, courageous and stubborn, impossible and determined, self-assured and snarky..
Alaire Vallorian was a long list of walking contradictions. And he would never get enough of her.
In the end, he would hurt her. Destroy her. Obliterate the only person who had ever truly mattered.
She would never forgive him. Not once she knew the truth.
His gaze drifted to his bicep, to the markings he always kept hidden. A bitter snarl tore from his throat. Source signs. Manacles binding him to a darkness he couldn’t escape. The price of duty. Of sacrifice. Of family.
Eventually, the truth would come to light. And when it did, she would look at him with the same fire that had initially drawn him in—but this time, it would be fury. And he would deserve every bit of it.
Out of the shadows, a familiar figure emerged—cloaked in darkness, impeccably dressed in a midnight suit.
His gaze was cold, calculating.
“You’ve done well, Dawson,” he said smoothly. “Our plan is unfolding exactly as it should. Because of you—your ability to get close to the girl—soon we will be united again, as we were always meant to be.”
Dawson cast his eyes to the sea. He’d tried to find a way to spare Alaire from all of this. But then she’d confessed she carried the Star of Eternal Night.
The battle ahead was inevitable. The cost, unbearable. But there was no undoing what had already been set in motion.
Soon, he would face Alaire—not as the man who loved her, but as the son of her greatest enemy.
They’d never stood a chance.
As if sensing the war within him, the male spoke.
“You can’t protect her from what’s coming, Dawson.”
Dawson clenched his fists, knuckles white, as he met the familiar blaze of turquoise eyes.
“Yes, Father,” he whispered. The words tasted like ash on his tongue.
His father—long thought dead—was a wielder of shadows.