“The ritual I’ve triggered will consume everything within the Vale’s boundaries. The Sanctum. The Fields. Every living thing for miles. Including—” Her gaze slides past Kharvek, past me, to the cluster of children huddled near the boundary markers. “—your precious escapees. They’re not far enough yet. When the ritual completes, they’ll burn with everything else.”
My blood runs cold.
I turn. Look at the children. Look at the boundary markers, so close, so achievable. Then look at the sky—at the crimson deepening, the pressure building, the final moments of the clan’s accumulated power preparing to release.
We don’t have time.
“But it doesn’t have to end that way.” The Matron’s voice drops. Becomes gentle. Almost loving. “Let me bind you to the wards, Kharvek. Your power is enough to stabilize the collapse. To contain the ritual. To save everyone.”
“At what cost?”
“Yourself.” She spreads her hands. “You become the anchor. The vessel that holds the Vale’s power in check. You’d be bound here forever—unable to leave, unable to die, sustaining the system that created you.”
“A weapon in your hands.”
“A weapon with a purpose. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
Kharvek goes still.
His emotions war against mine—the temptation fighting the fury, the consuming desire to save the children battling against everything we’ve fought for. If he agrees, they live. We live. But he’s lost forever. Bound to the system he swore to destroy. A puppet with his strings restored, dancing to her tune for eternity.
If he refuses, everyone dies.
There has to be another way. There’s always another way.
The children have stopped running.
They cluster near the boundary markers, watching us with wide eyes. Dena has positioned herself in front of the youngest, her small body a shield against the adults’ war. She’s terrified—I can see it in the set of her jaw, the tremble in her hands—but she’s standing firm.
Nine years old. Ready to die for strangers.
The Matron waits. Patient. Certain.
The sky above us pulses. The ritual builds. Minutes now. Perhaps less.
And Kharvek—this impossible man I’ve claimed as mine—turns to look at me.
His expression is calm. Resigned. The face of a man who’s made his decision and is waiting for permission to act on it.
No.
I cross to him. Push past the Matron without acknowledging her presence. Wrap my hands around his scarred face and make him look at me.
“Don’t you dare.” The words shake. “Don’t you dare think about agreeing to this.”
“The children?—”
“Will find another way. We’ll find another way.” I press my forehead to his. Feel his breath warm against my lips. “You’re not her weapon anymore. You’re not anyone’s weapon. You’re mine. And I refuse to lose you to this.”
His hands come up. Cover mine. Hold me there, close enough to share breath.
“If I don’t?—”
“Then we find another option.” I pull back far enough to meet his eyes. “You told me once that nothing of ours would belong to her. Nothing. You meant it. I know you meant it.”
“I did.”
“Then don’t give her this. Don’t let her win by making you sacrifice yourself. There has to be another way.”
