تسجيل الدخولThe mage's name was Corin, and he had been having a perfectly pleasant dream about a library with infinite books and an endless supply of tea when his door slammed open hard enough to crack against the wall.
Corin jerked awake with a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a yelp, his hands flying up in instinctive defense against... whatever disaster was about to consume him.
Damian rose from his chair.The movement was slow, deliberate—the kind of motion that said he had made a decision and nothing in the world would change it.He turned to face Ezekiel."Why would you stop them?" His voice was quiet, but it filled the room.Ezekiel met his gaze. There was no mockery in his eyes now, no theatrical glitter. Just exhaustion and something that looked almost like pity."Because all of you are making the situation worse."Damian's jaw tightened. "How?"Ezekiel was silent for a moment.Then he lifted his hands, palms up, an offering and a warning."I can show
The mage's name was Corin, and he had been having a perfectly pleasant dream about a library with infinite books and an endless supply of tea when his door slammed open hard enough to crack against the wall.Corin jerked awake with a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a yelp, his hands flying up in instinctive defense against... whatever disaster was about to consume him.Lucian Blackwood stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the torchlight from the corridor, looking very much like a man who had decided that sleep was for people who hadn't just discovered that reality was falling apart."Contact Lord Edric," Lucian said. No preamble. No apology for the near-cardiac event he'd just caused. Just command.Corin blinked at him.Then blinked agai
The door to the study opened without a knock—because Lucian had long ago decided that knocking was for people who had time to waste.He strode in, a message scroll in his hand, his mouth already open to deliver Silas's news—And stopped dead.Nathan was standing in the middle of the room.Not a vision. Not a messenger. Not a letter.Nathan. In the capital. In Damian's private study. As if he'd simply materialized out of thin air.Lucian's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.Nothing came out.For a long, terrible moment, no one moved.Then Lucian pressed a hand to his
Rowan moved before he could think.One moment he was kneeling beside Damian's chair, the next he was across the room, his arms wrapping around Nathan with a force that would have knocked them both over if Nathan hadn't braced himself.Nathan's breath left him in a surprised huff, but his arms came up immediately, holding just as tightly."Ro," Nathan whispered into Rowan's shoulder. "Ro, I'm here."Rowan pulled back just enough to grab Nathan's face in both hands, his silver eyes scanning every inch of him with desperate intensity."You look terrible," Rowan said, his voice rough. "You look thin. Exhausted. What happened? Are you okay? Why do you always do this—why do you always carry everything alone—"
The ride back to the Cross estate was quiet.Nathan rode at the front, his face carved from stone, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Alessio kept pace beside him, watching without hovering. The rest of the group followed in silence, the weight of what they'd learned pressing down on all of them.The estate rose out of the snow like a promise.Maria was waiting.She stood on the steps, wrapped in a heavy cloak, her eyes scanning the approaching party with the desperate hope of a mother who had learned that hope was dangerous. Ivy stood beside her, just as tense, just as watchful.When she saw Nathan—alive, whole,here—something in her shoulders loosened.But then she saw their faces.
The carriage ride was a blur of white and gray.Ezekiel stared out the window, watching the snow-covered landscape pass by in silence. The driver had tried to make conversation twice. Both times, Ezekiel had responded with monosyllables that discouraged further attempts.He didn't look like himself.The prophet who had arrived at the cave site days ago—all flowing robes and sharp smiles and eyes that gleamed with dangerous amusement—was gone. In his place sat a hollow man, pale and drawn, his hands clasped tightly in his lap as if he was afraid they might start shaking if he let go.The cave site came into view.Ezekiel was out of the carriage before it fully stopped.&n
Nathan reread the last line until the letters blurred.I will be there soon.For a heartbeat, the words thrilled him — the thought of someone still daring to fight for him. But the bond between him and Damian pulsed faintly under his skin, like a hot wire. If Rowan set foot on Vitale ground, that p
Victor Cross read the letter twice before setting it down. His son’s handwriting, once neat and confident, was trembling—like every stroke had been carved out of dread.He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The fire beside him snapped softly, a measured rhythm against the
When Nathan woke again, it wasn’t gentle.His body didn’t stir slowly. His consciousness didn’t drift back like a calm tide.He jerked awake — lungs burning, heart pounding so hard it rattled his ribs. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The ground was cold, marble hard beneath his back, his
That evening, Damian couldn’t focus on anything but that brief, disarming smile. It haunted him through the endless paperwork and hollow corridors—how easily the boy could light up, how human he looked when he wasn’t flinching or retreating.He sat by the hearth in his study long after the candles







