Chapter 6: The Binding Fever

The adrenaline of shaming Killian evaporated, replaced by a heat so intense I felt like my marrow was turning into molten lead. I collapsed against Malachi’s chest, my skin scorching through his leather armor.

"Elara!" Malachi’s voice was no longer cool and detached. It was a jagged edge of alarm.

I couldn't answer. The violet light wasn't just under my skin anymore—it was pulsing in my eyes, rhythmic and violent. The stone floor beneath us began to crack, tiny sprouts of white flowers blooming in the fissures before instantly turning to ash from the heat of my aura.

Malachi didn't hesitate. He swept me into his arms and sprinted through the corridors of the Spire. I caught glimpses of his guards—men who looked like they were carved from shadow—bowing their heads in fear as we passed. They weren't afraid of their King; they were afraid of me.

He kicked open the doors to a room I hadn't seen before. It was a circular chamber at the very top of the tower, the roof open to the stars. In the center sat a pool of obsidian-black water that steamed in the cold night air.

"The Primal fire," Malachi muttered, lowering me toward the water. "It’s trying to rebuild your body, but you’re still human enough to burn."

As soon as my feet touched the water, the pool hissed. Steam erupted around us, thick and smelling of ancient rain. The cold water helped, but the core of the heat was in my soul—right where the bond with Killian had been ripped away.

"It hurts," I gasped, clutching Malachi’s forearms. My fingernails dug into his skin, drawing blood. "Malachi, it feels like I’m breaking again."

"You are," he said, his silver eyes dark with a hunger he could no longer hide. He stepped into the pool with me, the water swirling around his waist. "The Primal power is a balance of Earth and Sky. You have the Earth, Elara. You have the raw, wild growth. But you lack the Sky. You lack the anchor."

"How... how do I get it?"

Malachi reached out, his hand cupping the back of my neck. His touch was the only thing that felt colder than the water. "The Guardians of old never ruled alone. They were paired with the Shadow Kings. My lineage was bred for one purpose: to be the cage that keeps the Goddess from burning the world down."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. The steam created a private world for just the two of us.

"I can anchor you, Elara. I can take the excess heat into my own blood. But once I do, the Moon Goddess will recognize us as a pair. It’s not a fated mate bond—it’s something deeper. A Blood Pact. You will be tied to my life, and I to yours. Forever."

I looked into his silver eyes. I saw the darkness there, the centuries of loneliness, and the absolute power. He wasn't offering me a fairy tale; he was offering me a throne in the shadows.

"Killian’s bond was a chain," I whispered, my voice trembling as a fresh wave of violet fire surged through me. "What is yours?"

Malachi’s lips brushed mine, a ghost of a kiss that tasted like a coming storm. "Mine is a crown. But a crown is heavy, Little Moon. Will you carry it?"

Before I could answer, a piercing howl echoed from the distance. It wasn't Killian this time. It was something darker—a sound of ancient, hungry wolves that didn't belong to any pack.

The Ancient Ones had smelled the awakening of a Primal.

The water in the pool began to churn violently. My mark glowed so brightly it was visible through my tunic, the roots of the tree etched on my skin beginning to wrap around my throat. I was running out of time.

"Do it," I choked out, grabbing his collar. "Anchor me, Malachi. I won't die a shadow."

Malachi didn't wait for a second invitation. He tilted my head back, his fangs lengthening, his eyes turning a pure, lethal silver.

"Forgive me, Elara," he growled. "But you’re mine now."

As his teeth sank into the pulse point of my neck, the world didn't go dark. It exploded into color.