The bond flares to life, white-hot, rushing like a storm through every vein. Kael feeds it to me, and I send it into Dawson. Like with Kael before, I give. I pour everything.
And pray it’s enough.
My new sigils flare almost immediately. Not just a shimmer but a flash—brilliant, searing, as though something deep within me is waking up for the first time. I don’t understand it. Don’t control it. But Kael’s presence grounds me. His energy wraps around mine, his mind brushing mine.
“Stay calm.”His voice threads through my skull, velvet and steel.“Focus. Just like before. Heal—but don’t give too much.”
Easy for him to say.
The brightness behind my eyes grows. My breath shudders as something pulls from inside me. Not just energy—life force. Kael’s and mine are tangled together now, strands woven tight. I feel his love for his prince, the weight of their years, their bond—not romantic but bone deep. Loyalty. Honour.
And it pours from us, rushing out in a stream of light, wild and thrumming and alive.
I can’t see it exactly, not with my eyes squeezed shut, but I feel it. It dances over my skin like fire without heat, like electricity without pain. It’s Kael’s strength. My stubbornness. Our bond, our will, our everything?—
And then it changes.
A shift, sudden and absolute, slams through me like a shock wave.
It’s Dawson. His energy—so faint, but there—reaches up to meet ours. A gasp rips from my chest. I open my eyes. I expect to see blinding light. Some mystical glow. Instead?—
All I see is my hand, trembling, pressed to Dawson’s still, too-pale skin.
No movement. But then—a mark. Right beneath my palm, a sigil begins to form. Black first, then pulsing deep violet. It isn’t Kael’s. Not even close.
It’s Aelith’s.
My head jerks towards Kael.
He’s crouched beside his prince, hand on Aelith’s chest, eyes half closed in absolute focus. The markings across his skin pulse in waves, casting him in surreal, celestial light. He looks like a warrior from another world.
Because he is.
And fuck me, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I swallow hard and turn back, forcing every shred of energy, attention, and will into Dawson. He can’t die. Not now. Not when we’ve come this far. Not when Kael is giving everything.
Not when I finally understand how much this means.
My limbs tremble. My vision swims. But I keep going.
And then—colour. A flush blooms across Dawson’s chest. The blue fades from his lips. His breathing hitches, once, then twice.
Iris is there in a flash, checking vitals. “It’s working,” she breathes, awe and disbelief tangled in her voice.
I force myself to wait one more second before I pull my hand away. The light fades. The sigils dim, and Kael lets out a shaky breath. I reach for him, grab his wrist, and tug him back from Aelith.
“Sonny—”
I turn to him, seeing the fight in his eyes—until they land on me. Concern swallows the glow in an instant.
“Are you okay?” He cups my cheek, eyes scanning every inch of me.
I must look like absolute hell. “I’m okay.” I lean into him. “Just… tired.”
He nods and then pulls me into his arms. No hesitation. Just warmth. Safety. Exhaustion, threaded through every breath. I feel his weariness, the deep ache in his bones. We’re barely standing. My muscles scream, and my soul feels frayed.
“I think we need to sleep for at least forty-eight hours,” I mutter.
The steady beep of the monitors cuts through the quiet, and we both turn.
