The fae’s bloodline

Isabella’s POV

The air was deathly still, everywhere was still. 

There were no  birds. No breeze.

Only the silence of something that had paused, as if the world held its breath to see what I’d done.

The blade, slick with my blood, trembled in my hand. My palm throbbed where I’d marked myself—not with destruction, but with defiance. I had chosen. But not the way the fae demanded. Not the way the prophecy dictated.

I had chosen all of them.

And now I waited to see if the world would break me for it.

Behind me, the Slade brothers stirred—Trenton first, then Darcy. Oliver groaned softly, dusted in fragments of shattered stone.

The beast… was gone.

Its howl had been swallowed by the earth, its massive form vanishing into a void beneath the altar. Nothing remained but scorched stone and the echo of impossible silence.

The fae was the only one still standing untouched, still cloaked in shadow, still too calm.

“You’ve defied the law of sacrifice,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “You bled… but not enough.”

I stood up straighter, ignoring the sting in my palm.

 “I bled for all of them. I won’t choose. I won’t sacrifice one piece of my soul to save the others.”

He tilted his head, almost amused. “Love cannot rewrite prophecy.”

“Then prophecy can go to hell,” I snapped.

Then, a  low growl answered me.

Not from the fae, but from Trenton.

I turned as he stepped forward, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched so hard I thought his bones might break.

“You just put us on the line,” he snarled. “All of us. Without even asking.”

My chest tightened. “I couldn’t choose—”

“That’s the problem, Isabella!” His voice cracked like thunder. “You can’t keep trying to save all of us when the rules won’t let you. You should’ve let me go.”

Darcy stepped in quickly. “She did what she thought was right—”

Trenton whirled on him. “And what if it wasn’t right? What if it just made everything worse?”

His words cut through me sharper than the blade had.

“Don’t you think I know what’s at stake?” I asked, barely managing to keep my voice from shaking. “Don’t you think I’ve thought about losing you every second since this started?”

Trenton’s jaw worked, but he didn’t speak.

“You’re angry. I get it. But don’t put that on me like I wanted this. I’m trying to hold us together, Trenton!”

“You’re trying to hold on to a fantasy!” he shot back. “This bond—it’s breaking. Can’t you feel it?”

And I could.

God, I could.

It pulsed like a splinter beneath my skin, fractured and fragile. Each of the threads between us stretched so thin, I thought they’d snap with one wrong breath.

Darcy looked between us, his eyes pained. Oliver sat against the altar, quiet and pale, watching with too much sadness in his eyes.

“You don’t trust me,” I said to Trenton softly. “You never really have.”

He didn’t deny it and that hurt more than anything.

The fae stepped forward, his boots soundless on the broken stone.

“Your bond is unraveling,” he said. “What was once strong has become a liability. The prophecy has teeth, girl. And it’s hungry.”

I turned to face him, my voice brittle with exhaustion. 

“Then what now? You want blood? I gave it.”

He glanced at the altar, unimpressed. “A drop of defiance isn’t the same as sacrifice.”

Trenton stepped beside me, stiff and quiet. “What happens if it falls apart?”

The fae smiled darkly,  “You’ll forget each other. One by one. The memories will fade. The bond will rot. And all that will be left is the ache of something missing.”

Darcy’s breath caught.

Oliver closed his eyes.

I felt it like a knife through my ribs.

The thought of forgetting them, of waking up one day and not knowing what they meant to me—was worse than death. I had only heard of mates rejecting their bond, and not forgetting them. 

“Is there a way to stop it?” I asked, my throat tight.

The fae nodded, “There is. But it comes with a cost.”

Trenton’s voice was cold. “Of course it does.”

“The bond,” the fae continued, “can only be preserved through fire. A trial. One that tests each of you: your love, your trust, your truths. If you succeed, the prophecy’s hold will break. The bond will be forged anew. Unbreakable.”

“And if we fail?” Darcy asked.

The fae’s grin returned, “Then you’ll never remember her name again.”

I swayed on my feet, it was a  choice between a hellish trial and eternal emptiness.

But maybe, just maybe, this was the path we were always meant to walk.

I looked at Trenton, then Darcy, then Oliver.

“I want to try,” I said. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll walk through fire if I have to.”

Oliver stood slowly, leaning on the cracked altar. “So will I.”

Darcy nodded, quiet but fierce. “I never stopped believing in us.”

We turned to Trenton last.

He stared at the ground, muscles tight.

When he finally looked up, I expected more anger.

But what I saw was something worse, I saw fear in his eyes.

Real, raw fear.

“What if it’s not enough?” he asked. “What if we try and lose everything anyway?”

I stepped toward him, placing my bloodstreaked hand on his chest. 

“Then we go down together.”

He looked at me for a long, heavy moment.

And finally, he nodded.

“Alright. Let’s burn.”

The fae raised his hand, and the broken stones of the shrine trembled once more. From the rubble, a path opened—a deep stairway leading down into a cavernous dark.

“The trial awaits,” he said. “Your hearts. Your truths. Your beasts.”

As we stared into the pit, cold air rose to meet us, thick with the scent of ash and something older than time.

A howl echoed from below.

I took a step forward.

My feet touched the edge of the first stair.

And from the depths—

a clawed hand reached up.