Chapter 29: Delphine

I woke to warmth.

Not magic. Not heat from the wards or the castle's pulse beneath the stone.

Him.

Theron’s arm was draped around my waist, heavy and grounding. His chest pressed to my back, one leg tangled between mine. His breath moved against my shoulder in slow, even waves, each exhale stirring the fine hairs at my nape. Every part of me ached—but in the best, most delicious way. My body hummed with memory. With satisfaction. With something deeper I didn’t have a name for.

I didn’t move. Not right away.

I just let myself feel it.

His hand flexed slightly in sleep, fingers curling at my stomach like he was anchoring himself to me. It should’ve made me feel possessive. Instead, it made me feel safe.

I had never felt this before.

Not just intimacy.

Peace.

The room was dim, filtered light slipping through the slats of the window. The castle hadn’t stirred yet. Not fully. Its silence wrapped around us like a blanket, and for a moment, I let myself believe it would last.

That the storm we’d been bracing for might wait a little longer.

Then the pull began.

It started in my chest.

A slow ache, dull and strange, like something inside me was being turned toward a direction I couldn’t see. I shifted under the blankets, frowning, but the sensation didn’t stop. It intensified.

A throb in my mark.

A pulse beneath my ribs.

Theron stirred behind me.

“You feel that?” I whispered.

He was already awake. His voice came low and gravel-rough against my ear. “Yes.”

The ache became sharper. It didn’t hurt, but it demanded. A summoning, like something beneath the castle had opened its eyes and found me wanting.

I sat up slowly. The blankets slipped from my skin, forgotten. The air was cool against my back, but the heat beneath my skin bloomed stronger now.

“It’s the vault,” I said.

Theron was already on his feet, grabbing his discarded shirt and pulling it over his head. “It’s calling you.”

“No,” I murmured, standing on shaky legs. “It’s pulling.”

I could feel the direction now—downward and east, like a compass needle being wrenched from its casing. The floor felt uneven. The walls seemed to angle ever so slightly, all guiding me toward the same place.

“It’s never been this strong,” I whispered.

He stepped in front of me, eyes searching. “Can you resist it?”

I wanted to lie.

Wanted to say yes.

But I wasn’t sure.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

Instead, he reached for my clothes, handed them to me silently, and helped me dress. The tenderness of it hit me harder than I expected. Even now, as the magic surged beneath the stone, he was gentle. Steady.

Mine.

We moved through the halls without a word. The castle no longer disguised its intent. Doors opened before me before I reached for them. Torches lit in silence. The stones underfoot pulsed with the same rhythm as the mark on my skin.

Each step closer made it harder to breathe.

By the time we reached the archway to the vault, the ache had become pressure.

The seal on the door—normally dormant—was glowing.

Alive.

Awake.

I reached out, fingers trembling.

The stone recognized me before I touched it. The air thickened. Theron drew closer, his hand ghosting just behind my back, ready to catch me. The seal brightened, runes flaring gold and crimson, and the door split down the middle with a sound like breath drawn in reverse.

This time, it didn’t wait for permission.

The vault opened.

And I walked in.

-

The air inside the vault was nothing like I remembered.

It wasn’t stale or cold anymore. It didn’t feel buried. It felt alive.

Aware.

The moment I crossed the threshold, my skin prickled. Magic swept over me like wind, pulling at my clothes, my hair, my breath. The vault recognized me—and this time, it didn’t wait for questions.

It welcomed.

The chamber glowed from within. The great seal at the center, once dormant stone etched with runes, now pulsed like a living heart—lines of red and gold magic threading out from it like veins. Glyphs scrolled along the walls, not carved but moving, shifting, writing themselves. The floor rippled beneath my feet, subtle and liquid, though I never sank.

And the sound—gods, the sound.

It wasn’t music. Not exactly.

But it vibrated through me. A low, ancient hum that pressed against my chest and echoed in my bones. It didn’t come from the walls.

It came from me.

Theron stepped in behind me but stopped just inside the doorway, as if the space itself wouldn’t let him come any closer. His voice was tight. “Delphine—what’s happening?”

I couldn’t answer.

Because something deeper was already pulling at my senses.

I moved forward.

I didn’t think. Didn’t question.

Each step toward the center of the vault sent new pulses of heat through my mark. My heartbeat aligned with it. The ache I’d felt earlier was gone now—replaced by a sensation that felt frighteningly close to belonging.

The seal flared as I neared, the symbols around its edge rearranging, drawing new shapes. My name was among them again—not written in my handwriting, not traced in ink. It was wrought. Forged in light.

DELPHINE ASHWOOD.

The castle had branded me with identity.

Not as a visitor.

Not even as a guardian.

As its own.

I reached out, my fingers hovering just above the center of the seal.

It pulsed once more, and then—

It touched me back.

The magic surged into my hand, up my arm, flooding through my body in a rush that stole my breath. I cried out, knees buckling, but didn’t fall. The floor shifted to hold me. Runes danced across my skin in a spiral of heat and light, and for a moment, I felt everything.

Every corridor.

Every spell.

Every inch of the castle’s ancient structure—

All of it was open to me.

It was like standing in the eye of a storm built of memory and stone, and it knew me.

Not just my magic.

Not just my name.

It knew my fear. My anger. My loneliness. My hunger to prove I was more than a tool.

And it answered that hunger with a whisper that wasn’t in words.

A sensation:

Become.

My mouth parted in a soundless gasp. I saw flashes—visions, maybe. Myself walking the halls, but older. Stronger. Crowned in ash and magic. Others kneeling. Theron watching with fire in his eyes—not fear, not pride—something deeper.

Possession.

I yanked my hand back.

The connection snapped with a surge of heat, and I collapsed onto my knees, gasping, heart thundering in my chest.

Theron rushed forward.

This time, the vault didn’t stop him.

He dropped beside me, gathering me up with shaking hands. “Delphine—are you hurt?”

“No,” I whispered. “But I think I touched something I wasn’t ready for.”

He looked over my shoulder at the seal.

“It responded to you.”

“It chose me,” I said, voice shaking. “But not just as a guide or a key.”

Theron’s jaw tensed. “Then what?”

I looked up at him, and even though I was shaking, there was no doubt in my voice.

“As its next wielder.”