The air feels too thin. I can barely draw breath past the tightness in my chest.
"You spent centuries waiting for her to be yours," Malrik says, and now his voice carries something almost like pity. "But did you ever stop to think that maybe you were supposed to be hers instead?"
The question lands like a blade between my ribs. Because the answer is no. In all my planning, all my certainty about destiny and bonds meant to be, I never considered that I might have to prove myself worthy of her choice.
I can still feel her through the bond. The lingering warmth of her joy, the satisfaction that comes from being truly seen and accepted. And none of it, not one single spark, is directed at me.
Malrik watches me for another moment, then shakes his head. "That bond was supposed to be your greatest strength. But right now? It's just your fucking curse."
He melts back into the shadows, leaving me alone with the wreckage of my assumptions.
I don't move. Can't move. My pulse still throbs painfully, my breath still comes in ragged gasps, and the ghost of Kaia's desire still burns through my veins like a fever I can't break.
The cold air does nothing to ease the ache.
Nothing can.
Because for all my waiting, for all my faith in what was meant to be, I never considered the one possibility that could destroy everything I'd built my existence around.
Kaia might not choose me at all.
And now I'll feel it all—every time she chooses someone who isn't me.
Chapter 26
Malrik
The bond still lingers in my veins like a phantom touch, curling through my chest with echoes of emotions that aren’t mine. But unlike Kieran, I know how to control myself. I compartmentalize, lock it away, deal with it later when I’m not surrounded by witnesses to my unraveling.
I turn away from the trees where I left him—still caught in his own personal hell, still standing there hard and shattered by the bond he forced on all of us.
Pathetic.
I don’t need to see the wreckage on his face to know he’s breaking. The bond made sure we all felt it—Kaia’s joy, her pleasure, the way she melted into Finn like he was gravity itself. The difference is, I don’t let it consume me.
I understand what she needs. What they both need. And my own complicated feelings about wanting them both more than I ever thought possible? That’s my problem to sort through, not theirs.
I shove my hands into my pockets as I move through the stone corridors of the sanctuary, ignoring the old ghosts that press at the edges of myconsciousness. This place carries too much history, too many memories of the boy I used to be before everything went to hell.
I don’t linger. Don’t stop to examine the familiar architecture or the way shadows fall differently here than anywhere else. Don’t give in to the pull of a past that belongs to someone else entirely.
This was my home once.
Now it’s just another cage with prettier bars.
I take the longer route through the training grounds, avoiding the main passages where I might encounter anyone else from our group. The torches burn bright against ancient stone, flickering in the humid air that seeps through open archways.
It’s unsettling how much of this place still feels familiar despite the years I’ve spent trying to forget it. The way my footsteps echo in certain corridors. The particular scent of old magic and older secrets that clings to everything here.
I should be used to ghosts by now. I carry enough of them.
But this place is different. This is where I learned what it meant to become one.
I’m rounding the next corner, lost in thoughts I’d rather not examine, when I find Mira leaning casually against the stone railing, watching me with that same unreadable expression she always wears.
She doesn’t speak at first, just tilts her head slightly, her silver eyes glinting in the firelight.
“You always did like lurking in the shadows.”
