Starlight Confessions

Dion's POV

The night whispered with the hum of crickets and the rustle of branches high above. Moonlight pierced through the trees in silver streams, and I followed that light like a moth drawn to flame.

Something had shifted in Therrin. I felt it ripple through the tether we shared like a current dragging me beneath the surface. It was more than just magic. It was her essence—and Ari's—stirring, thrashing, aching.

I had to see her.

The forest parted for me as if it understood my urgency. My boots barely touched the mossy ground, and still, I could feel the earth trembling faintly. Residual energy. The aftermath of the chaos they'd endured.

She was there—by the water, bathed in moonlight.

She didn't turn to me, but I knew she sensed me. Her bare legs dangled over a smoothed stone ledge, her toes skimming the cool stream. Wet strands of raven-black hair clung to her neck. Her body was still, but her soul wasn't. I could feel it humming, raw and open.

I kept my voice low. "You felt it too, didn't you?"

Therrin didn't answer right away. Her fingers trailed across the surface of the water, drawing ripples that shimmered like glass. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that."

I moved closer, dropping into a crouch beside her. "You mean the soul battle?"

She gave a short, hollow laugh. "Battle… possession… whatever you want to call it." Her voice was quieter now. "I wasn't strong enough to stop it. Ari wasn't either."

I looked at her then. Not just with my eyes, but with everything in me. "You survived it. That matters."

She met my gaze, and for a moment, I saw all of her—Therrin and Ari layered in one breath, one blink. Duality in motion. Fire and shadow. Wound and weapon.

"I felt every scream," I murmured. "Every tear in your mind. I've never known pain like that. Not even in the wars of my realm."

Her breath hitched.

"I wanted to tear the forest apart just to get to you," I confessed. "But Grimm… he was already there. He calmed it. You calmed it."

"No," she whispered, eyes distant. "He saved us. I couldn't—"

"You did." I cut her off, gently but firmly. "You fought back. You chose to stay."

Her throat worked, trying to swallow the emotion building behind her silence. "Sometimes I wonder if Ari would be better off on her own."

"She's not alone." My fingers brushed hers. "Neither are you."

Her hand twitched. I didn't force it. I waited—like I always would—for her to decide when to let me in.

"She's trying to convince me," Therrin said softly. "To accept you. To… let you be our mate."

The world seemed to still. Even the night paused.

"And do you want that?" I asked.

"I don't know." Her honesty cracked something in me. "I'm still learning who I am… and she's always been a part of me, hidden. Now she's awake. Loud. And half of me wants to run."

"And the other half?"

Her eyes flicked to mine, stormy and clear. "The other half already aches for you."

A silence passed between us, thick with longing. Our fingers touched fully now, her hand sliding into mine. Skin to skin. Energy to energy.

"I don't want to rush you," I said, voice like velvet steel. "But I also don't want to lie. You already have all of me. Both of you do."

She exhaled shakily. "That's a dangerous thing to say."

"I mean it," I replied. "And I'll keep meaning it, whether you say yes now or a year from now."

Her lips curved—barely a smile, but enough to breathe warmth into my chest. She turned her face toward the stars, and I followed her gaze.

"They're beautiful," she said.

"You're beautiful," I answered without hesitation.

We sat like that, under a blanket of silver and shadow, until her head rested on my shoulder and my arm wrapped around her back. There was peace, even after pain. Maybe because of it.

She shifted slightly, as if about to say something more. But before she could, the night cracked—something distant but jarring. A branch breaking. A breath too loud.

We both stilled.

She tensed in my arms. "Did you hear that?"

"I did."

The moment was gone—but not the truth it revealed.

"I'll stay close," I promised. "No matter what's coming."

And I meant every word.