LOGINTalia POVThe morning after the fire, the world no longer felt neutral.It felt aware.Talia sat just beyond the cabin threshold, boots planted in the snow, the codex open across her thighs. The symbols pulsed faintly—steady, deliberate—matching the rhythm of her heart. Not racing. Not calm.Ready.She hadn’t slept. Didn’t feel the need to. Her body hummed with a contained heat, coiled and alert, like a blade waiting to be drawn.Lucian’s presence still lingered inside her, not through the bond alone, but deeper—imprinted. His vow echoed in the quiet spaces of her mind.When this is done, I’m giving you the wedding you deserve.Her mouth curved, just barely. “You’d better survive long enough to keep that promise,” she murmured.The response came from within.A pressure. A flutter. Then a decisive thump.Her breath caught.She pressed her palm to her stomach. “Yes,” she whispered. “I feel him too.”Another movement followed—stronger this time. Not random. Intentional.All three of them
Dual POV — Lucian / TaliaThe moon rose early that night.Round. Silver. Too bright for a world trying to hide its sins.Lucian sat beside the campfire with his hood drawn low, the ring clenched in his palm as if it were the only thing anchoring him to the ground. Cassius slept a few yards away, armor stacked neatly at his side, but sleep had never been an option for Lucian tonight.The bond hummed.Not loud. Not demanding.Present.A steady rhythm beneath his ribs, like a second heartbeat that refused to be ignored.She was awake.He closed his eyes and let the fire answer him.Not command. Not prayer.A quiet truth sent along the bond.Show me, love. Just one sign you’re safe.The flames shifted.They lifted higher than they should have—steady, controlled, gold deepening into white. Heat rippled outward, bending the night air. Then the fire changed, its center thinning, stretching—A silhouette formed.Feminine. Familiar.Loose hair. A cloak falling from narrow shoulders.Lucian’s b
Lucian POVThe smell hit first.Ash—old enough to have cooled, young enough to still sting the lungs. Burned timber. Blood is turned iron-rich by cold. And beneath it all, something darker.Death without ceremony.Lucian slowed his horse instinctively. Savage surged just beneath his skin, not snarling, not demanding control—just present. Watchful. The way he became when the world shifted from travel to truth.Cassius lifted a fist behind him. The scouts halted.Snow still clung to the ground, but it no longer fell. The storm had passed, leaving behind a pale, accusing quiet. The kind that didn’t forgive.Lucian dismounted.Each step forward felt deliberate, weighted. Not dread—recognition. Something in the bond hummed low and steady. Talia was not afraid when she was there.She had been furious.The outpost lay ahead like a wound; the land refused to close.Charred beams jutted from the snow at broken angles. The border marker—ancient, oath-bound—had been split clean in half, its rune
Lucian POVBy the time dawn came, the snow had stopped falling.The world outside glowed a pale gold, a fragile light that could make even ruin look holy. Lucian stood on the palace balcony, hands braced against the stone rail, eyes fixed on the horizon.He’d been awake all night, searching through the mate bond, tracing every flicker of warmth, every echo that wasn’t pain. And somewhere in the quiet hours before sunrise, it happened.A pulse.Not of fear.Not of grief.But something else—something soft, bright, and alive.It spread through the link like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, wrapping around him before he could even catch his breath: warmth, laughter, the sound of a woman humming softly by a fire.Talia.He could feel her. Not in words, not even in thoughts—but in feeling. The bond pulsed with gentle joy, lightness, peace.For the first time in months, he smiled.The wind shifted across the balcony, cold against his face. It couldn’t touch the warmth in his chest. He
Talia POVBy the second night, the storm had broken into silence.The air hung heavy and still, snow glittering under a waning moon. The horse, Alder, walked slowly and tired, every exhale puffing white against the cold. When the outline of a cabin appeared through the trees—a dark, sagging shape half-buried in frost—Talia almost thought she’d imagined it.But it was real.The old structure leaned against the hillside as if it were trying to disappear into it. The windows were broken, and the door hung off one hinge, but the roof held. Shelter.She dismounted, legs shaking from exhaustion, and led Alder under the small overhang beside the cabin. “You rest here,” she whispered, patting his neck. “I’ll find us something dry.”Inside, the air was thick with dust and old wood. Her breath misted in front of her face. A few broken chairs lay scattered, and a stone hearth sat cold and empty in the corner. But it was four walls and a roof—and for the first time in days, she wasn’t being hunte
Snow still fell, but thinner now, the wind easing just enough to let scent through.Ash.Blood.Burned fur.Talia slowed Alder instinctively. Kaela stirred beneath her skin—not loud, not demanding, but alert. Watchful. Her wolf had been unusually quiet since Talia left the mountain house. Not sulking. Not petulant. Kaela did that when she didn’t get her runs, when she felt ignored—an obnoxious two-year-old in spirit who could flood Talia with restless energy until she laughed or gave in.This was different.Kaela wasn’t restless.She was grieving.“I know,” Talia murmured under her breath. “I feel it too.”They crested the ridge, and the world below came into view.What had once been an outpost was now a grave without markers.Charred beams jutted from the snow at crooked angles, blackened and split. The border marker—etched generations ago with oaths of loyalty and protection—lay shattered in two, its runes scorched beyond recognition. Smoke no longer rose, but the smell lingered, he







