But she couldn't move. The connection between her and the stone had deepened, and she could feel something vast stirring beneath the inn's foundation. Not the imprisoned entity—something else. Something that recognized her presence and was reaching up through layers of earth and magic to touch her mind.
"I can't," she said, though whether she was speaking to Cade or the founders, she wasn't sure. "It won't let me go."
Cade took the stairs three at a time, his wolf so close to the surface that his eyes blazed gold in the rune's light. The moment he reached the cellar floor, though, everything changed.
The founders' spirits turned toward him with recognition and approval. The wolf founder stepped forward, studying Cade with eyes that held centuries of accumulated wisdom.
"Blood of my blood," the ancient wolf said. "You have grown strong."
Cade's human control slipped for a moment, and Lyra caught a glimpse of something wild and primal in his expression. "You're not supposed to be here. The dead should stay dead."
"We are not dead," the witch founder corrected gently. "We are the memory of the binding, held in the stones until our purpose is fulfilled."
"Your purpose was fulfilled two hundred years ago."
"Our purpose," the fae founder said with a smile that held too many teeth, "was to ensure the prison would hold for as long as necessary. That purpose continues through you."
The air in the cellar was growing thick with competing energies—the ancient power of the founders, the primal strength of Cade's wolf, and Lyra's chaos magic responding to all of it like a tuning fork struck too hard. The rune beneath her palm was burning now, not with heat but with cold fire that seemed to rewrite her DNA with every pulse.
"Cade," she said, her voice strained. "Something's happening. I can feel it—the thing beneath the inn. It's waking up."
He was beside her in an instant, his hand covering hers on the rune's surface. As soon as his skin met hers, the spiritual maelstrom in the cellar exploded into something far more immediate and urgent.
Power flowed between them like liquid lightning, their founder bloodlines recognizing each other and fusing into something stronger than either could achieve alone. Lyra could feel Cade's wolf through the connection, wild and protective and absolutely devoted to keeping her safe. His thoughts and memories brushed hers, unfiltered and raw—the weight of alpha responsibility, the loneliness of command, the careful control that kept his wilder nature in check.
And he could feel her—the chaos of her magic, the warmth of her laughter, the stubborn determination that made her fight for what she believed in even when she was terrified.
"The bond awakens," the founders said in unison, their voices filled with satisfaction. "As it was meant to."
"What bond?" Lyra gasped, though she could feel it forming—invisible threads of connection that tied her magic to Cade's wolf, her chaos to his control, her heart to his in ways that wasn’t their choice and everything to do with destiny.
"The mating bond," Cade said, his voice rough with strain and tinged with what could only be longing. "Founder bloodlines are meant to work together. To balance each other."
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I," Cade admitted. "But I can feel it. The pull. The need to—" He cut himself off, jaw clenched with the effort of maintaining control.
The need to what, Lyra wanted to ask, but the words died in her throat as Cade's grip on her hand tightened and she felt the full force of his wolf's attention focus on her. The founders' spirits were still watching, their ancient magic amplifying every sensation, every emotion, every desperate need that had been building between them since the moment they'd met.
"The bloodlines call to each other," the witch founder said softly. "As they always have. As they always will."
Lyra tried to pull her hand away from the rune, to break the connection that was making it impossible to think clearly, but Cade's fingers were wrapped around hers and he wasn't letting go.
"Don't," he said, his voice barely human. "Don't fight it."
"Fight what?"
"This. Us. What we are."
The bond between them pulsed like a heartbeat, and suddenly Lyra understood what was happening. The magicalconnection wasn't just about power or destiny or ancient responsibilities. It was about them—about the way her chaos magic calmed in his presence, about the way his wolf had recognized her as mate before his human mind had caught up, about the electricity that sparked between them every time they touched.
"Cade," she said, his name coming out like a prayer.
"I know," he said, and then he was kissing her.
The kiss was desperate and claiming and nothing like the gentle almost-contact they'd shared in the forest clearing. This was all hunger and need and the kind of supernatural recognition that bypassed rational thought entirely. Lyra's magic exploded around them in waves of golden light, and Cade's wolf surged so close to the surface that she could feel fangs against her lips.
The founders' spirits faded into the background as more immediate concerns took over. Cade's hands were in her hair, on her waist, pulling her closer as if he could somehow merge them into one being through sheer force of will. Lyra's magic was singing, wrapping around them both in spirals of power that made the air shimmer with heat.
