The Weight of Two Souls

Dion's POV

I felt it before I saw it.

The air changed. The pressure in the glade thickened like fog, the scent of blooming duskrose turning sharp and metallic, tinged with something old—like magic unraveling.

Then came the scream.

Not hers. Theirs.

It pierced through the soul.

I staggered backward, clutching my chest as if someone had wrapped their claws around my heart and squeezed. My knees hit the ground, hard. The world spun sideways. I could barely make sense of what I was seeing—shadows slashing across the forest floor, twisted roots cracking the earth, the sky above blackening even though it was nowhere near nightfall.

Therrin's body convulsed on the forest floor.

Or maybe it was Ari's.

I couldn't tell who was in control anymore.

They writhed in place, spine arching like a bow pulled taut. Their lips parted in a silent scream. Sweat glistened on their brow, and their limbs jerked violently, as if battling something inside.

No—not something.

Each other.

I tried to move, to reach them, but every step closer stole the breath from my lungs. The bond I had with them—soul-deep and searing—was dragging me under, threading their pain into mine like a cruel thread through fabric. My vision swam.

Flashes hit me.

Memories that weren't mine.

A cradle of moonlight. A girl laughing in grayscale. Another voice whispering in the shadows. A hand reaching out—then pulling away.

My mouth opened, but I had no words. No spell. No power that could stop what was happening.

The earth cracked near their body. Grass died in its wake. Shadows with teeth formed around the edges of the clearing.

I heard Grimm's voice like a howl through wind: sharp, commanding, ancient.

"Enough!"

His body glowed with the strange violet hue of his power as he darted to her—them—and placed his paw directly against their forehead. His incantation wasn't in a language I recognized. It didn't matter. I could feel its truth.

The storm paused.

Their body stilled. The tension eased.

The darkness receded.

But not completely.

I dropped to my knees beside them, watching as Grimm leaned his forehead gently to theirs, whispering something softer now, something private. I didn't listen. I didn't have to. I was too busy watching the rise and fall of their chest. Relief struck me like a blade.

They were breathing.

Alive.

But changed.

Something about the aura around them felt different now—no longer flickering between two frequencies, but instead… layered. Tangled. As if Therrin and Ari were both present, watching from behind the same eyes.

Grimm stepped back, tail flicking once.

"They are stable," he said lowly. "For now."

I swallowed hard, my throat raw from screaming without realizing it.

"What… what was that?" I croaked.

His yellow gaze slid to me, unreadable. "A battle of selves. And the first of many."

I looked back down at her—them—still unconscious but peaceful now, like the storm had exhausted itself and left behind a fragile calm.

A battle of selves.

The words haunted me.

Because I knew, deep in my bones, this wasn't going to be simple. I didn't fall in love with one girl. I fell for a soul split in two, bonded by magic and blood and grief. I didn't know when it happened. Maybe it was the moment Therrin whispered my name with trembling lips. Or the second Ari pressed close, teasing and wild, but hiding pain behind her sharp edges.

Maybe it was both.

And that's what terrified me.

How was I supposed to love them both without breaking them apart?

How was I supposed to be the mate to a soul that warred with itself?

My hand hovered above their cheek but didn't touch. Not yet. Not until I figured out how to do this right.

"I'm not choosing one," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. "I won't let either of you be forgotten."

The shadows were gone now. The glade quiet. But the ache in my chest remained.

This wasn't the end of the storm.

Only the eye of it.

And I would be ready.