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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Chloe Cullen
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October 4 - October 6, 2025
Silas tilted his head, leaning closer and speaking in a lower tone. “Careful, Winslow. I bite.”
how to stabilise the lands’ magic, which was slowly deteriorating around them.
Amelia was constantly in danger of dislodging her eyeballs from her head from the sheer number of times she rolled them in his presence.
Her eyes snagged on a single line and read: ‘The bond is not simply connection; it is consumption’.
Their rivalry had always been built on sharp words and sharper minds.
“You know, I believe I read somewhere that prolonged exposure and proximity between individuals increases attraction towards one another.”
“Our undeniable chemistry?” Silas said, but his voice held none if its usual humour. He slid her a glance. “You must stop hitting on me, Winslow, it’s getting sad.”
“Blades,”
“They’re crafted from the Monoliths.”
“That’s…impossible. Anyone who has ever tried to harness the power of the Monoliths were consumed by the raw magic.” Even as she said the words, she realised he was correct. The differences in the blades were as stark as the North and South Monoliths in appearance.
“Mages are part of the very few born with the ability to wield magic. No one knows why, they simply are. Runing others who are not born to take in and manipulate magic is reckless and inhumane.
“It doesn’t seem to be anymore.”
“you are the storm, Winslow.”
He set his eyes on her. “No debate,” he said firmly. “If anything is dragging you off into the night, they’ll have to drag me off, too.”
His smile faded and he searched her eyes. “Well, don’t forget that. You aren’t alone in this.”
She swallowed. “Sounds like it might storm outside,” Amelia offered quietly to fill the silence. His eyes found hers, and he sent her a small smile. “You are the storm, Winslow.”
He breathed out his own small laugh and looked away. “I didn’t know you thought of me at all,” Silas muttered, almost too low for her to hear. But she had heard.
Amelia had already been thrown by the realisation that she found him attractive, even in some small way. Now he was being kind, leaving her oddly vulnerable and irritated.
“You were so…delightfully combative when we first met,” he said with a quiet laugh. “Because of who your parents are, no one else seemed to want to stand with you and give it right back.” He shrugged a shoulder and smiled. “I had no qualms matching your energy. Now, eat.”
“Don’t use the Waystone chips near midnight,” he said. “There’re stories of people disappearing into nothing, not reappearing again…just gone. The magic is becoming worse quicker than people realise.”
“Tell me, have you stopped loathing my son enough to start a relationship with him?”
He would break it in a heartbeat, even if it meant he might never see her again, just so she could be free.
They locked gazes for the first time, a breathtaking gut-punch. Her brown eyes held a depth that made him wish to understand her, despite not knowing her name at the time. They also held a coldness that stopped him in his tracks, relaying a clear message: she had no interest in engaging. In fact, he was almost certain if he had attempted to, she might have tried to brain him with the heavy book she held.
“The bond is not forced, nor farcical. Amelia Winslow fights her trauma, but the bond—the true bond, not the magical one—will win the battle.”
Silas braced himself in his room, secured to the wall by a set of runed bindings that should secure all magic. Amelia had fixed the bindings before midnight, standing back to admire her handiwork with a quiet smile. “I don’t like that look,” Silas had said warily. Biting her lip, she backed away, a hint of mischief there that had him shifting restlessly beneath the bindings. “I like you like this,” Amelia admitted. Silas narrowed his eyes. “Tied to the wall?”
He had always admired her, from afar. His current proximity and growing understanding of how she operated, it watered a seed within, and it grew wildly and out of control.
The dagger cut from the Southern Monolith was not surprising, the jagged material like a black hole which absorbed light itself. But the dagger cut from the Northern Monolith, its golden hue, didn’t reflect light in the way they would have expected. Silas didn’t know how they hadn’t noticed already, but when pointing a concentrated beam of light at the edge, it seemed to absorb it just like the dark, with no evidence of the light hitting the metal, no reflection to be seen.
“How did Aurora even find this?” Amelia queried softly. “How did it come back from the Rift, when your father didn’t?”
“I…I’m not sure I can help it sometimes. I am what they made me.”
“Don’t let them steal the person you were always meant to be. You are the storm. Never forget that.”
The warmth of her against him, the safety of holding her close, brought a comfort he wasn’t sure he’d ever known.
“I wish you were mine, my storm.”
“I’m done hiding,” she whispered. Silas let out a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good,” he murmured, “because I want to see everything, Winslow. I want to know every piece of you.”
“You were born for this, Silas. This was always fated to happen. You are the end…and the beginning.”
