The words linger, clinging to the walls like they want to stay.
“You’re absolutely fucking insane, El,” he murmurs, dragging a hand down his face, but his lips quirk up. Because he can’t ignore it; she’s also brilliant.
And gods help him, he’s never wanted her more.
Because somewhere along the way, Elyssara stopped questioning her destiny and started feeling inevitable.
“Thank you,” she says with a wicked grin, accepting the remark as a compliment.
“You and the Decay can forge a clear path to the vaults, and when we get there—we shatter every last one of them,” she says through gritted teeth.
He nods. Slowly. Considering her plan.
He transforms in a heartbeat. Lover to warrior. Starbound to strategist. Man to monster.
And Elyssara rises to meet him like she was forged for war beside him.
“Exit strategies?” he asks, his tone clipped.
Elyssara adjusts from lover to queen. Her mind works quickly, finding solutions. “Plan A: Seren Gateways us out—we use the amulet. Plan B: we fight our way out.”
Kael nods, accepting the plans. “Weapons?”
Before Elyssara can answer, Rhaema’s voice echoes down the stairs.
“If you’re looking for your pretty little toys, don’t bother.”
Kael frowns.
“I checked the wall. Nothing.”
The old woman appears at the end of the narrow tunnel again, cane thumping against stone.
“Laryn likely collected them already.” Then, with a pointed look, she says, “Just as I am convinced the man has no wits, he proves me wrong.”
Then she disappears without another word.
Kael huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, so now what do we do for weapons?”
Elyssara quirks an eyebrow. She lifts her hands, allowing them to glow with Lightborne magic. “Really?” she asks good naturedly. “Between my magic, your magic,andthe Decay? Steel would only get in the way.”
He huffs a laugh. “Good point.”
Kael’s eyes narrow, and he drags in a long, slow inhale.
“And if I turn on you?” He says the words like they’re nothing but another piece of logistics, but he feels them slice through his ribs like a blade sliding home.
Elyssara eyes him then, tucks her knees under herself, and leans into the presence of him. “Then I will take your hand,” she says softly, gripping his wrist and pulling it toward her. “And I will place it here.” She lets the furs fall from her shoulders, revealing her naked form to him, and pressing the full breadth of his palm against the bare flesh of her chest. “And I will stare into the eyes I fell in love with, and whisper the words that always call you home.”
Her heart thuds under his palm—alive, real, his. The rhythm calls to an ancient part inside of him. Not the Decay—the tether. The part that recognizes her as his before thought ever could.
“I will love you,” she breathes, forehead resting on his, her own palm splayed across his.
“From now until the Stars claim me,” Kael says in reply, voice gravelly and raw.
“In this life and the next,” Elyssara finishes. “And I know you will come back to me.”
She says it like fate itself has already decided.
