Her shoulders straighten. “I saw…”
I barely choke out the words past my guilt. “I asked you to come with me.”
She reaches for my hand, weaving her fingers through mine. “For once,” she murmurs, “you did ask me. And I chose to.”
Because I’ve done so much to her without asking. Breaking her from the safety of the ice. Awakening her into a world she never chose. Taking her with me through the Moores and trying to build a life in a place without me. All without permission. All for my own gain.
And now, when I would give her up to save her. When I would let her choose a path that doesn’t take from her—she chooses me regardless. Despite the warning of the vision. Despite Vargrún biting at my sanity. Despite the darkness of the coming years.
She chooses me.
I grit my teeth, but I can’t bite back the sound that escapes me.
Raw. Torn. Furious. Helpless, as the Resh’Agar should never be.
I draw her to me until her brow presses to my chest, until she can hear the unsteady cadence of my heart.
“It’s racing,” she says. “Kail…”
“You are the only one that can break its stillness.”
She presses closer, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft. Vulnerable.
“Kailorien, what are we to each other? Are we tied together because of this Bond? Or something else?”
My answer is steady, stripped bare.
“Must it have a name? I want you by my side. I carry you in my heart. I never want to lose you. That is what I know.”
Before she can speak, I lean down, and press my lips over what is most sacred in my life—her fluttering, courageous, wondrous heart. Just like before, I take a breath and exhale all of me, sealing warmth into her chest. A wordless vow I pray her soul will hear.
The silence that follows my confession is no longer heavy, but shared. When we walk again, we walk together. The tunnel narrows, the air sharpening with the promise of what lies ahead. As we step through the mouth of it, everything changes. The air grows sharper. The aura of ancient, powerful magic sparks against our skin.
Before us stretches a vast chasm—the Maw—its depths drowned in shadow. Across it, past the Arc of Mourning, stands an emerald city made of crystal and stone.
Krystopolis.
My home.
My prison.
A cavern cradles it—the Daesa Major—more vast than mortal minds can grasp. Towers rise like black crystal teeth, their spires bleeding green light from the caged mana within. At the heart, twin mirror shafts stab downwards from the cavern ceiling. And surrounding the entire construct is a golden glowing layer of magic.
There is enough light here for Auryn to see the glory of the Crystal City that will bow to her one day. Enough to see the place that will take everything from her. But not if I can stop it. Not if I can find a way to protect her there.
Her hand tightens on my arm. “Are those…”
“The Shields,” I nod. “My chains. My burden.”
“And those structures?”
“The Mirror Shafts,” I explain, gesturing. “They connect to Stonewake and run up through the mountain. It is the only way for the city to see light from the Surface.”
Only one bridge cuts the abyss—narrow, merciless, their sole path forward.
“It’s beautiful,” she says.
“As it is meant to be. But within, you will find that not all is at it seems.”
