Her lips curve slightly, the movement weak but genuine. "Terrifying?"
"You channeled ley energy in another dimension while fighting a Guardian made of pure shadow and despair. Then you pulled us both back through a collapsing reality. So yeah. Terrifying." My thumb strokes across her knuckles, needing the reassurance of her warmth, her solid presence. "I thought I lost you."
"Can't get rid of me that easily." The words come out slurred, exhausted. "Worth it though. You're here."
"We're both here." Bringing her hand to my lips, I press a kiss to her palm. "Because you refused to give up."
Her eyes drift closed again, but our connection stays strong. Present. She's just resting now, not slipping away. The difference is everything.
She surfaces and slips away like the tide. Each time her eyes open, they stay open longer. Each time she speaks, her voice grows stronger. The ley lines feed energy into her gradually, and color returns to her cheeks, strength returns to her grip.
By evening, she's sitting up. Cilla brings soup that Maren manages to eat most of. Calder examines her again, and this time he's smiling.
"You're going to be fine. Better than fine. You're different now."
"Different how?" Her fingers tighten slightly in mine.
"You can feel them, can't you? The ley lines."
She closes her eyes, reaching for something I can't perceive. Her face changes—wonder replacing worry, her breath catching. "Yes. They're everywhere. Like rivers of light running under everything. Through the compound, the forest, stretching out toward the ocean." Her eyes snap open, wide with amazement. "I can feel the convergence point where we fought. It's healed now. Sealed clean. And there's another one near the coast, and one in the mountains, and—" She breaks off, overwhelmed.
"Breathe. You don't have to process it all at once."
"It's beautiful," she whispers. "And alive. The whole network is alive, breathing. I never knew. When I photographed the shimmer, I only saw the surface. But this—" She touches her chest. "This is everything underneath. The foundation holding reality together."
"You're connected to the land itself now," Calder explains. "Not just through your bond or because you're a shifter. You channeled ley energy in a place where it shouldn't exist. That changed you. Made you something unique—a shifter born through ley line magic rather than bloodline."
"What does that mean?"
"It means your sensitivity is a gift now, not just a quirk. You might be able to sense ley line problems before they manifest.Could help prevent future disasters." He pauses. "You're essentially a ley line guardian too. Bonded to the land the same way I am."
Maren processes this. "So I'm some kind of magical early warning system?"
"Something like that."
She looks at me, and the question is there before she asks it. "Is that okay? I know you didn't sign up for?—"
"I signed up for you. Everything you are, everything you're becoming. All of it."
Relief floods through her—visible in the way her shoulders drop, tension draining from her face. She breathes out slowly.
When Calder leaves, when we're alone again, she moves to make room on the bed. Climbing up beside her, careful not to jostle her too much, I settle in. She curls into my side, head on my chest, right where she belongs.
"We're partners." Her hand presses against my heart. "You don't get to sacrifice yourself without consulting me first."
"Noted."
"I mean it, Jonah." She tilts her head to look at me. "I understand why you made the choices you did. But we make decisions together from now on. Both of us. Equal partners."
"I hear you." My arms tighten around her. "No morelone-beardecisions. We figure it out together."
Comfortable silence settles between us. She asks, "What happens now?"
"Now?" Running my fingers through her hair, marveling that I get to do this. That she's here, alive, mine. "Now we build our life together."
"Tell me about it."
So I do. Returning to my marine biology research, studying how ley lines affect ocean ecosystems. She'll document it all, creating a record of magic and science intertwined. We'llexpand my cabin—our cabin—to accommodate both our work. A darkroom for her photography, space for my research equipment.
