Page 46 of A Sunwoven Ascent

He drew it out just long enough to leave her on the edge before he claimed her completely. The moment stole the breath from her lungs. After that, there was only heat and motion, kisses and gasps, the bond between them thrumming so loudly she could almost believe it filled the room. She cried his name like both plea and promise, and he answered with a raw sound that shivered through her.

“Perfect,” he murmured against her skin, the word torn from him. “You feel so damn perfect.”

When release finally shattered her, it came like a wave she couldn’t outrun. She dug her nails into his skin, body trembling as pleasure washed through her, leaving her breathless and undone. Kaldrek followed moments later, collapsing over her, his weight heavy and protective, his breath hot against her neck. And beneath it all was the deep drum of his heart.

He had not revealed the truth, but neither had he lied. He would take her to the witch, and for now, she knew that was the most he could give.

***

Evelyne lingered by the window while Selene pulled a few worn volumes from a shelf set deep into the wall. Candlelight burned low, and as night settled fully around the shop, shadows stretched long across the floor and the room grew quieter still. Kaldrek stood near the hearth with his arms crossed, his posture too measured to be ease. Evelyne had come to know that look well. It was restraint.

“This isn’t about Cillian,” Kaldrek said at last.

Selene paused and turned, one brow lifting. “No,” she said calmly. “It isn’t.”

Kaldrek held her gaze. “I believe I need your help. But not for my pack. For myself.”

Selene studied him for a long moment, then gave a single nod. “Sit.”

He did.

“You feel it now,” Selene said. “The pressure of your power beneath your skin.”

Evelyne’s eyes widened. Part of her was startled by the words, yet another part was not surprised at all.

“Yes,” Kaldrek said quietly. “I first felt it when Cillian used his magic to heal me. It was as if something inside me answered the call.” His mouth hardened. “I do not know what to do with it.”

Guilt stirred low in Evelyne’s chest. He had kept this from her because he knew what it would do to her thoughts. She understood why. After everything with Alaric, after the nightmares she had already confessed, this might have sent her over the edge if Alaric had not finally begun to improve.

“That is because witch magic does not exist in isolation,” Selene replied. “We do not create it. We guide it.” She glanced briefly toward Evelyne before continuing. “Witches must draw from a source, something older than ourselves.”

“Like the elements of nature?” Evelyne asked.

“Often,” Selene said. “Stone. Water. Roots. Flame.” Her fingers brushed the rim of a shallow bowl near the hearth, where clear water caught the firelight. “In the southern territories, I suspect many covens once drew from the Solwyn Tree itself, though that history is still new to me, if I am honest. It was shared and balanced.”

“And blood?” Kaldrek asked.

Selene’s expression cooled at once. “Blood, no. Blood is not a source. It is a shortcut to immense power, and it always demands sacrifice to magnify itself. That is why blood magic consumes so completely.”

Evelyne could feel the fear beneath Selene’s calm as she spoke of it, the old horror still living in her voice. It was the kind of magic Evelyne prayed each night would never again rise in her lifetime or anyone else’s.

Kaldrek nodded once, his brow drawing in as he tried to piece it all together. “But Cillian does not need to draw from a source. He simply summons it.”

"That is true," Selene said. "He is not descended from witches in the usual sense. I believe the power is part of him. Or perhaps part of the prophecy itself. That is why it stirred what lay dormant in you."

“Because he is a source,” Kaldrek said, half to himself. “And I am part witch.”

“Yes. His power rises from within, though it may also answer the greater force that first gave birth to it, or so I suspect.”

“And you knew,” he said, his voice quiet. “About me?”

“I suspected,” Selene admitted. “But it was buried too deeply for me to sense clearly.” Her gaze relaxed. “Until recently. Lately, I have felt it thrumming beneath your skin.” She paused, then asked more carefully, “Kaldrek, from whom did you inherit your witch blood?”

Evelyne’s heart sank. She knew what it took for him to speak that truth aloud.

Kaldrek let out a slow breath. “Vaelora was my mother.”

Selene stiffened.