The Vow Beneath the Storm

Rhett:

The academy groaned in its sleep.

Rain carved silver veins down its black stone walls, thunder trembling through the old bones of the place. Candlelight sputtered in the corridor, shadows bending in ways that felt sentient. The wards—those fragile, trembling things—were still reknitting themselves after last night’s chaos. Magic hung heavy in the air, thick enough to taste, sharp as iron.

And at the center of it all sat her—our storm, our ruin, our salvation.

Isadora.

Wrapped in a blanket by the fire, her skin ghost-pale, eyes distant and fevered, like she was still half elsewhere. We’d all felt it—the shatter of light and shadow colliding, Maldric’s voice roaring through our veins like an old god’s scream. She had burned him out of her dreams. Banished him. But it had cost her.

Now, even the air seemed to bend around her.

And us? We were the fools who would swear to stand between her and the darkness that would come again.

Or die trying.

The firelight dances across her face, all flicker and ghost. I can’t stop watching her.

Her hands still shake. Her lips are split, red as sin. She looks breakable—and yet last night she tore monsters apart like they were made of air.

That contradiction kills me.

My fingers twitch around the hilt of my blade. The smell of rain leaking through cracked stone mixes with her scent—lightning, blood, something divine and terrible.

She doesn’t look at us. She stares into the fire like it’s whispering secrets.

Lucian mutters something about balance, Silas about binding oaths. Kai sits too close, his hand ghosting over her wrist like he could fix what’s been cracked inside her.

Me? I only know this—whatever’s coming for her next, it’s not taking her without going through me first.

“We do it,” I say. My voice sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel. “We bind ourselves to her. To each other. No more sides. No more waiting for someone else to save her, she needs us all.”

Silas’s head tilts, his expression unreadable in the gloom. “You understand what that means, don’t you? A vow like this isn’t just words. It changes us. Forever.”

“I know.”

I look at Isadora again, at the faint tremor in her throat as she swallows. She doesn’t speak—but she doesn’t stop me either. And that’s enough.

Lightning cracks across the ceiling, illuminating her eyes—silver, like stormlight.

“Then we make it,” I say, stepping closer. “Before anything else tries to claim her.”

And gods help me, the part of me that’s still human prays she never learns what it truly means to be claimed, because I would never want her to feel the way I do about her, full devotion without any hestitation, without remorse.

Kai:

The storm outside mirrors the one in my head. Every pulse of thunder feels like it’s echoing inside my skull. The air smells like ozone and magic, and Isadora’s power still lingers—a pulse beneath my skin that doesn’t belong to me anymore.

I should be resting. My magic’s drained to ash. But when Rhett says “bind,” I forget exhaustion. My heart seizes.

She’s sitting there, looking fragile and wild all at once, like a candle trying to stay lit in a hurricane. The sight makes my chest hurt. She has no idea how much she’s changed me—how her presence is both healing and destroying everything I thought I was.

A vow. To her.

It’s madness.

But I want it.

Because I am mad when it comes to Isadora, completely insane.

“I’ll do it,” I say softly. “For her.”

Silas looks at me like he’s already seen how this ends—like he knows oaths like this only lead to ruin. Maybe he’s right.

But there’s something sacred about ruin, isn’t there? Something pure in the breaking.

My fingers brush Isadora’s. Her skin is cold, trembling. I whisper her name, and she looks at me. Just looks.

And that’s when I know—I’d burn this whole cursed academy to keep her breathing.

Lucian:

I’ve seen a thousand vows. Fae kings swearing by moonlight. Demons binding blood to bone. Lovers promising forever and delivering nothing.

This… feels older.

There’s a hum under my skin, a resonance that pulls at the part of me I’ve spent centuries trying to bury. My blood still whispers to me from when I gave it to her. It recognizes her. Calls her mine in a way I can’t control.

And now the others want to tie themselves to her too.

I should be jealous. I’m not. What I feel is darker.

Protective. Possessive. Terrified.

Rhett’s pacing like a caged beast, Kai’s light flickering faintly against the gloom, Silas leaning back in the corner, unreadable as ever. And her—sitting there, trembling, unaware that four monsters are about to stake their souls on her survival.

I step forward. The floor hums underfoot. “If we do this,” I say quietly, “there’s no undoing it. Our magic, our lives—they’ll anchor to hers. If she falls, so do we.”

Rhett’s eyes gleam. “Then we don’t let her fall.”

The simplicity of it is almost laughable. But there’s nothing funny about the way the room grows colder. The candles flicker blue. The shadows thicken, listening.

I bite into my thumb, ancient words sliding from my tongue like venom. The blood drips onto the stone, glowing faintly silver as it hits. “Then it begins.”

Silas:

They don’t know what they’re doing.

The wards are still fragile. The academy’s balance is off. There’s something shifting beneath us—an old pulse, like Maldric’s power hasn’t left but merely gone deeper.

Binding ourselves to her might save her. It might also doom us.

And yet…

She’s shaking again. I can feel it even from across the room, the trembling of her soul against mine. She doesn’t even realize how her power claws at the air, begging to be tamed. She looks so human right now, but I’ve seen what she becomes when her magic unfurls.

A god, wrapped in mortal skin.

And gods need worshippers—or guardians.

I stand. Step into the circle the others have unconsciously formed around her.

Her gaze lifts to me, dazed. “Silas?”

Her voice is smoke and cracked glass.

I should say no. I should stop them all before it’s too late. But the words die in my throat.

Instead, I reach out and touch her face. My fingers come away trembling. “Then we do it. Together.”

The magic stirs instantly—hungry, wild. A current races through us, through the room, through the academy itself. Books rattle. The fire hisses blue.

It’s already begun.

We stand in a circle. Four shadows and one light.

Lucian cuts his palm again, blood glistening like mercury. Rhett follows, then Kai, then me. The scent of it—metal and smoke—fills the air.

Isadora hesitates, her breath shallow. “If I take this vow, I could—”

Rhett interrupts. “You already did.”

He’s right. She’s already tied to us in ways none of us fully understand. This only makes it real.

We extend our hands toward the center, blood dripping onto the stone floor. The crimson threads twist upward, weaving into a sphere of light and shadow, gold and black intertwining until it burns bright enough to blind.

Kai whispers something in Old Tongue—words of mercy. Lucian answers in the language of demons—words of power. I speak words of death and loyalty. Rhett seals it with words of defiance.

And through it all, Isadora whispers one word:

“Together.”

The magic ignites.

The circle flares to life, light searing across the walls, shadows stretching high to the vaulted ceiling. The floor shakes. Somewhere deep beneath us, the academy groans in pain—or perhaps in approval. Lightning splits the sky outside, illuminating the glass windows in a kaleidoscope of crimson and silver.

A tremor ripples through us—through the wards, the stones, the air.

Our blood burns.

Then—silence.

The fire steadies. The light fades. And all that remains is the faint glow on our palms, the invisible thread now binding us all.

The vow is done.

Isadora:

I feel them inside me.

Not in body, but in essence. Four threads of energy braided into my soul, humming against my heartbeat. I can taste them in my breath—Rhett’s fury, Kai’s light, Lucian’s ancient hunger, Silas’s sorrow.

It’s dizzying. Terrifying. Holy.

The room feels heavier, quieter. The academy itself seems to hold its breath. I can hear the whispers again—soft, distant. The old ones who founded this place, or maybe the ghosts beneath it. They sound… afraid.

My hands shake. “What have we done?”

Rhett kneels in front of me, his rough fingers brushing mine. “We’ve made sure you’ll never be alone again.”

Something inside me cracks open.

Tears burn my eyes, but I can’t tell if they’re from gratitude or dread.

The candles flicker once more, shadows rippling like waves. And for the first time since Maldric whispered my name in the dark, I feel something dangerous bloom in my chest.

Hope.

Outside, thunder rumbles like distant laughter.

The vow has been made.

The Devourer has her protectors.

And somewhere deep below the academy, Maldric’s chains rattle—

—because unity, in this place, is just another kind of weapon.