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October 24 - October 27, 2025
She watched the wildfires until her cake was gone. She knew it was a risk to spend too much time out here, and she turned to head back in, only to find Razik leaning in the doorway, his wine glass dangling in his fingers. “Your homeland is beautiful,” he said softly, the wildfires reflecting in his sapphire eyes.
His sapphire eyes held hers, and she saw it in the depths of them. Saw what should have been. Saw what he wanted. Saw what she couldn’t give him.
Him and Tybalt arguing. Tybalt wanted them to take me with them so that I could stay with them until Cethin was of age.” “Of age? For what?” Eliza asked. “I was brought here to be his Guardian.” Eliza tensed. “You were forced to become his Guardian?” She remembered Tybalt speaking of the Guardian Bond at dinner one night in Aimonway. He’d said it wasn’t a burden, and that no one selected as a Guardian was against it. “I eventually chose it on my own, but not when they wanted me to. I was supposed to become bonded to him when his power was awakened. I refused. For decades. Centuries.
“I hated Cethin. For decades. I hated being around him. Hated being in Avonleya. Hated being in Halaya.” “Halaya?” “That is what this world is called in other realms,” Razik said.
“But you still chose it?” He shifted. The first time he’d moved the entire conversation. “Cethin and I eventually realized we are soulmates. That as much as I resented him, we got along remarkably well when I wasn’t being a prick, and he wasn’t being an entitled ass. As much as I hated being left here for such a purpose, it appeared fate had other plans.”
“No, mai dragocen. But I know what it is to have a bond forced on you, to be pressured into accepting something you do not want.”
“No, Eliza. It takes a special kind of strength to fight fate. Even if you eventually accept it, it will be on your terms, and I am okay with that. Because I know that forcing fate would work against what it was meant to be.”
“You brought us the dragon.”
Raz! I need you! The roar that echoed from the cave shook the entirety of the mountain. And she felt rage. So much wrath and fury that was not hers. He was coming. He had heard her.
but the dragon that swooped out of the cave was larger. His scales were black as night and seemed to absorb the sunlight. Two horns protruded from the diamond-shaped head, and a spiked tail thrashed in the air as he soared up, banking hard. Blue glowing orbs locked on her as his wings gave a mighty flap. His neck stretched out, and black flames spewed from his mouth when he released another roar.
“Did you know that in some realms, I would be known as a priestess?” Callan’s brow furrowed. “No?” “We are known by many names among the realms. Priestesses. Witches. Sages. Divines.” At that, his brows shot up. She just gave him a small smile. “I thought that may be of interest to you. For future reference.”
It is almost like J is breaking the fourth wall to tell us this lmao
“And I can also trust you will stop putting frogs in your sister’s bedroll?” “Yes, Lady,” he murmured, cheeks going pink. “Good boy,” she said, standing and scuffling his brown hair.
The chain was silver and hanging from it was an amulet of white sapphire. Three interlocking circles side-by-side. Falein’s symbol. Tava sucked in a sharp breath. She lifted a hand as if to reach for it, but then drew it back, fingers covering her mouth instead. The moonlight reflected off the sapphire, and with it, he could just make out the faint, shimmering silver dust contained within. “What is that?” Tava breathed. He smiled, extending the necklace to her. “Arianna calls it energy. I simply call it magic.”
Juliette was staring beyond them, but when Callan glanced over his shoulder, there was nothing there. Her eyes were a vibrant violet and were nearly glowing. “She sees things she does not understand,” Arantxa said, stepping between Juliette and the rest of them, a hand on the dagger at her hip. “Glimpses of truth. Glimpses of what could be.”
“This is different. The winds are wild and whisper of whatever they please. The Fates use Oracles to speak for them, to push for a destiny they desire.”
The faint glow of her eyes receded, but they remained a darker shade of violet. She swallowed, her throat bobbing with the motion. “When Scarlett took the wards down around the mortal lands …” Everyone went utterly still. Her gaze settled on Drake. “Your once-father said you do not understand the cost.” “I recall,” Drake said slowly. Juliette looked between the three mortals. “It would be wise to learn that cost before nothing can be done.”
The last time she visited was when Scarlett was born here. She said goodbye to Thorne, and he has not let anyone ride him since.” Hazel’s violet gaze connected with Talwyn’s. “Until you.”
It was Briar. When the Water Prince had gotten here, she did not know. She did not care when or how, only that Scarlett had done it. She had come through and freed him from Alaric and sent him here. He did not look at Talwyn when he moved past her, walking straight into the heart of Ashtine’s heartache. Talwyn stood and waited. One second. Two. Three. The winds stopped as if the world itself had lost its breath. And as the dirt settled, she found Briar and Ashtine kneeling on the ground. Her face was buried in his chest, and he was clutching her tightly, one hand running down her hair over and
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“Perhaps it is something purer this way,” Talwyn said, as Briar stood, scooping Ashtine up with him. “They did not have a bond drawing them to each other. It is pure love that they managed to find despite all odds.”
“High Witch,” Briar said, bowing his head. “Thank you for allowing her to stay. It is not a request that I will be staying with her.” His tone left no room for argument. He was not asking if he could stay in the Witch Kingdoms as a male, but commanding that Hazel allow him to do so. “Understood, your Highness,” Hazel replied,
Briar moved to step back, but Ashtine’s fist curled tighter in his tunic. “My heart,” she murmured, her brow pinching in sleep. “Hush, my dear,” he soothed, running a palm along her hair again, but he climbed atop the bed, never breaking contact with her. It took a moment, but he got himself positioned against the headboard, Ashtine’s head in his lap.
Sorin had managed to refill Scarlett’s reserves before he’d fallen into the deep sleep needed to restore their gifts, and Cyrus had given Cassius extra blood when he’d woken.
“Kailia is not Fae,” Tybalt said, shaking his head. “Cethin does not have a Source, nor will he ever take one. As I said, his circumstances are different.”
Rayner might rip out organs, and Eliza might get extra stabby with pointy objects, but Cyrus? He didn’t need the fancy tricks. He preferred to simply burn things, and smile at the carnage left in his wake while sipping on a glass of liquor and smoking some mugweed.
Tybalt cleared his throat, setting his silverware off to the side. “We do not know what Kailia is. Cethin and Razik have been searching for answers for decades, but without knowing where she came from—”
“And with Cethin being able to detect power levels, he can tell she is not Fae.”
“Cethin will not drink. He …” Tybalt paused, clearly searching for the right words. “It would require a large amount for him at this point. But Cethin is not who we should be discussing right now.”
“Is it something you are still willing to give, Cyrus?” And wasn’t that the question of the day?
“Neve is not as powerful as the others, but she is probably a good choice. She won’t want anything physical, even if the bond pushes for it. She prefers females.”
“And if I ask you?” Cassius asked in a low rumble. Cyrus flexed his fingers on the glass he still held. He’d thought about this. All day. Talked about it with Sorin. Tried to sort through his thoughts. His eyes were fixed on his glass when he said, “Maybe you’ve been right all along, Cass. Maybe it shouldn’t be me.”
“Because I’m not fine with it,” Cass said when Cyrus didn’t answer. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’ll be perfectly fine if I take another Source.” “Of course I will not like it,” Cyrus snapped, shooting to his feet. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you, and what’s best for you.” “What’s best for me is you,”
“Did the two of you complete the Trials?” Cassius snarled, rounding on him. “Yes, but—” “And was your bond Anointed?” Cass demanded. “By Beatrix, but—” “But nothing,” Cass interrupted again. “How much more proof do you need, Cyrus?” “Thia was Fae!” Cyrus snapped. “I am Fae. It could not have been a real bond. The Sorceress said—”
“Cassius is correct. The bond would not have been completed and Anointed if it were not a true twin flame bond. The Marks would have rejected the Anointing. Even completing the Trials would have been near impossible if it were not a true bond. One of you had Avonleyan lineage. Even a trace of it would have been enough. But if you both recognized the bond immediately while both of you believing yourselves fully Fae …”
“I would consider you profoundly blessed, Cyrus. Fate clearly wanted you together, even if just for a time.”
“I will not take another Source, Cyrus. It will be you or no one. It does not need to be tonight. It does not need to be tomorrow. It will be when you are ready, and if that day does not come? That is okay, too. We will figure something out. And if we do not? I choose a powerless existence with you over power with someone else. You deserve love, Cyrus. I’ll say it until you believe it, and then I’ll say it so you remember it.”
“I’m Avonleyan. Same as Scarlett and Cethin and Razik.” “Marks have to be drawn precisely, Cass.” “I know. What do you think I have been studying in those books all this time?” Cyrus’s brows rose. “You’ve been studying the Source Mark?” “I’ve been studying the Marks in general, but yes. I’ve been practicing the Source Mark more than the others.”
“What’s best for me is you,” Cyrus answered. There was no hesitation when he said it. No second guessing himself or questioning the truth of those words.
I was thinking the back of your hand. Your right hand,” Cass added quickly, twisting to face him fully. “That’s fine, but any particular reason?” he asked curiously, studying him. His eyes were already shifted to an amber-red, and he reached for Cyrus’s right hand where it was resting atop his stomach. “Because you said the Mark would ground you,” Cass answered, his thumb swiping across the back of Cyrus’s hand. “Seeing it would remind you that you’re wanted, even if I can’t be there to say it at the time. This way, it’s visible at all times.”
His own fire flared to life, rising up to protect him, and he tried to pull his magic back, to make it submit to Cass’s power. It was useless. That’s not how magic worked, not when its bearer was being directly attacked. This had to be done between their power, not their will. He barked another curse when Cassius sent more magic into his veins, and Cyrus tried to pull away on instinct alone. Cassius held his hand in a vice grip though, and at the movement, a growl came from him that had Cyrus falling still. His magic stuttered for a moment too. There was nothing of the watchful, kind-hearted
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“Fuck!” Cyrus snapped when another wave of black flames slammed into him. He couldn’t just lie here. His Fae nature wouldn’t allow it, even if he consciously knew what they were doing. He surged up, flipping them so he was on top of Cassius, his teeth bared and fire slamming up against his black flames. “Godsdamnit, Cyrus,” Cassius snarled, his eyes glowing brighter.
leaning in close. His elongated canines were getting dangerously close to Cassius’s throat when it was Cassius surging up. They were both on their feet, and Cassius was forcing him back and back. His wings ripped free, and smoke appeared on his next exhale as Cyrus’s back hit the wall hard. “Cyrus.” His name was a feral order on his lips. A primal claiming. A demanding possession that again had his fire stuttering, and Cassius took the opportunity to wind his black flames around Cyrus’s magic so tightly, it had no choice but to give in.
but Cass caught his wrist before he could. “You’re mine,” Cass said, his voice nothing but gravel as his fingertips brushed over the Source Mark on the back of Cyrus’s hand. His eyes followed the movement, transfixed on the black Mark. Cyrus could hear it in his voice, feel it in the tremble of his hand as he gripped his wrist. As his chest continued to rise and fall too rapidly. He was on the brink of losing control. He was doing everything he could to keep it. It struck Cyrus then that dragon possessiveness might rival Fae possessiveness. Not only that, Cassius was part-dragon, part-Witch.
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A hand fisted in Cyrus’s hair, tipping his head back, and Cassius licked a long line up his throat before he brought his mouth to his ear and said, “On your knees, Cyrus. Make it sloppy so I can take what’s mine.” That was the moment all coherent thought left. As he sank to his knees, Cass pulled Cyrus’s tunic over his head, burning away the rest of their clothing, before planting a palm on the wall above them. His hips rolled forward again, his tip brushing along the seam of Cyrus’s lips. And because he was who he was, Cyrus smirked up at him before he flicked the tip of his tongue over his
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It was perfect when they found themselves on the bed, Cassius above him, wings flared out as his hips punched forward in perfect rhythm with his fist wrapped around Cyrus’s length. Each movement was precise and controlled because it was Cass, and he couldn’t lose control even in this.
It was perfect when Cyrus realized he didn’t have the slightest desire for a drink or mugweed, because this was enough to keep his thoughts at bay. It was perfect when, instead of hearing the Sorceress in his head as he drifted off to sleep, he heard Cassius’s words. What’s best for me is you. And he believed them.
Taking the Mark without a companion mark was a risk. It wasn’t lost on her that nearly a year ago she’d been arguing with Sorin about this exact thing when they’d stood in the back room of a tavern in Baylorin, the Fire Prince demanding she give him this Mark. She’d told him he was an idiot for doing this. That about summed up this plan, she supposed. Complete idiocy. Sucking in another shuddering breath, she murmured the Claiming Rite. The Mark flared brightly, and then her breath caught in her throat as she felt Razik’s anguish down the twin flame bond. Physical pain, yes, but so much more.
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“He completely fucked this up. Too shortsighted about the female. The Fae here are undisciplined,” the injured one grumbled. “Allowed too much freedom.” “Once this is over, that’ll change,” came the response as they kept moving out of sight.
And saw a massive black dragon curled up. The bolt was still in his wing, splayed out and lying lifelessly on the ground. His other wing was tucked back along his sleek black scales. His eyes were closed, no sapphire orbs glowing brightly. The way his neck was curled and head sitting, she couldn’t see if the bolt they’d struck him with in the chest was still there. But there were pools of blood beneath him, whether from the bolts or the damage he sustained when he’d fallen from the sky. The fury that filled her blood was the song of death itself. Dead. All these fuckers were dead. That grin
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“It is interesting that such an archaic way of thinking still exists in some worlds. That females are still considered the weaker beings. Varlis certainly seems to think so.”
“How is it that two Swords of the Requiem are in this realm?”
