Sunlight leaked across the stone floor like spilled honey.
Vireya stirred slowly, blinking against the soft gold light pouring through the balcony doors. Her muscles ached in that delicious, well-used way—hips sore, thighs tender, lips still swollen from Kael's mouth.
He was still asleep beside her.
One massive arm draped across her waist, holding her close like his body hadn't gotten the memo the danger had passed. His breathing was even, but even in sleep, he looked dangerous—brows furrowed, mouth set like a man still mid-battle.
His scent wrapped around her: pine smoke, iron, and something darker—like wildfire caught in storm winds.
She could stay like this forever.
But her bladder had other plans.
She wriggled carefully, trying not to wake him.
Didn't work.
Kael's hand slid down to grip her hip. "Where do you think you're going?"
She smirked. "Away from your death grip."
He grunted, dragging her back into his chest. "You're mine. Stay."
"Possessive much?"
"You marked me last night, flame." His voice was still scratchy from sleep. "I'm allowed to be a little possessive."
She rolled over to face him, tangled fingers into his messy black hair, and kissed the tip of his nose. "Fine. Five more minutes."
Kael smirked, but didn't push.
They lay there in silence, their legs tangled beneath the sheets, her heartbeat finally calm. For once, there was no pain. No panic. No prophecy.
Just breath.
Just skin.
Just them.
A while later, they dragged themselves from bed, still sore, still smug.
Kael made her eat, of course. He brought a tray himself—eggs, fresh bread, and some kind of citrus fruit that made her nose wrinkle.
She stabbed at it anyway, chewing around a bite of honey-soaked bread. "So… are all Alpha Kings secretly good in the kitchen, or are you just trying to seduce me again?"
Kael raised a brow. "If I was trying to seduce you, flame, we wouldn't be eating."
Heat curled low in her stomach, but she didn't let it show.
"Careful," she said, licking honey from her fingers. "You're starting to sound like a husband."
His gaze locked on her mouth.
"I could be."
She stilled.
The moment stretched—warm, weighted, new.
Then the door slammed open.
Iska's boots echoed across the floor like gunfire. "Kael. We've got a problem."
The tray clattered as Kael stood instantly, his hand already halfway to his blade—even though he wasn't wearing one.
Vireya was right behind him, still half dressed but fully alert. Ashira snapped awake in her chest, not panicked—but alert.
"What kind of problem?" Kael asked, already pulling on a black tunic.
Iska didn't waste time.
"The perimeter ward on the northern wall just ruptured."
Vireya blinked. "I thought that wall was reinforced with triple-layered defense sigils?"
"It is. Or was. Whatever hit it shattered them like glass."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Intruders?"
Iska hesitated.
Then: "Not yet."
That pause made Vireya's stomach twist.
"What do you mean 'not yet'?"
Iska's eyes cut to her. Serious. Flat. "I mean the wards didn't just break. They were unwoven."
Silence.
Then Kael growled, low and lethal. "They had someone on the inside."
Vireya didn't wait for instructions. She was already moving.
Ashira surged in her chest, and the heat of the bond pulsed under her skin like a second heartbeat.
She didn't need to hear what Kael said to the guards or the messenger that arrived next, breathless and white-faced.
She didn't need to hear Iska start listing how many mages it would take to dismantle a full ward from the outside in.
All she needed was that low crack in the air—the kind that didn't sound like thunder, but felt like it.
Her feet stopped cold.
Everyone else kept moving, talking, scrambling.
But she stood still.
The sky above the castle had changed.
Not darkened. Not clouded.
Just… shifted.
And the air—
It tasted wrong.
Not like smoke.
Not like rain.
But like blood and magic and rage.
"Something's coming," Vireya said, barely above a whisper.
Kael turned toward her immediately.
"What did you feel?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. I just… I tasted it."
He crossed the room in three steps and gripped her face gently, forcing her to look at him.
"Your wolf?"
Ashira's voice echoed through her chest. Yes. But it's not for us alone.
Vireya blinked. "Ashira said it's coming for all of us."
Kael's hands fell to her shoulders, grounding her.
"Then we make our stand."
They didn't have time to gather the council.
Didn't have time to argue protocol.
All they had was each other.
And something—someone—already crawling its way toward the gates.
Iska and Theoron joined the war table with the rest of the top lieutenants, their faces drawn tight.
Theoron leaned toward Vireya before she left the war chamber. "They're not just coming for Kael anymore."
She met his eyes.
"They're coming for you."
By the time Vireya reached the main watchtower, the northern sky had shifted again.
Not a storm.
Not magic.
A shadow.
Creeping across the ridgeline like ink bleeding through parchment.
It didn't move right.
Didn't feel right.
And deep in her bones, Ashira whispered something she hadn't heard before:
You must remember.
Vireya gripped the edge of the stone wall, her breath sharp in her throat.
Kael stood beside her.
Silent.
Storm-eyed.
Waiting.
And together, they watched the darkness rise.