Page 66

Icouldn't tear my eyes away from Lightsbane as it dissolved into shadow. My mind raced with recognition, a memory surfacing like a drowning man gasping for air. The sword, those runes, that distinctive curve near the hilt, I'd seen it before. Not just anywhere, but in the book my mother gave me.

The pages of that ancient tome flashed through my mind: detailed illustrations in faded ink showing a weapon that could exist in both light and darkness. There were subtle differences between what Callum wielded and what my mother had drawn, but in my soul, I knew it was the same blade. Or maybe it was similar? The very weapon the prophecy said would banish the Shadow Beast permanently.

"Archer?" Rowen's voice cut through my thoughts, his obsidian eyes narrowed with concern. "You've gone pale."

I swallowed hard, my daggers suddenly heavy in their hidden sheaths against my forearms. "I'm fine," I lied, the words sticking in my throat. "Just processing everything."

Rowen's tail twitched. The telltale sign he knew I wasn't being truthful. His gaze lingered on me for a beat too long before he turned to Sierra, who still trembled slightly despite being sandwiched between warm bodies.

"We all need to recover," he declared, rising from the bed in one fluid motion. His naked form commanded the space, shoulders squared as though already preparing for the next battle. "Food first, then we plan."

Sierra nodded, her silver hair falling in tangled waves around her face. "I'm starving," she admitted, looking exhausted but alive. So alive. The power that had radiated from her in the shadow realm was muted now, but I could still sense it humming beneath her skin.

Callum stood, offering his hand to Sierra. "Come on, little witch. I make excellent pancakes."

Her laugh was weak but genuine. "Pancakes? Somehow I didn't picture the Fae king as a breakfast chef."

"I contain a multitude of talents, remember?" Callum replied with a wink, drawing her to her feet.

We all dressed in silence, the weight of what had happened, of what was still to come, pressing down on us. I pulled on my pants mechanically, my thoughts far away, buried in the pages of my mother's book. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough time to read it yet.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. This wasn't the time to lose myself in ancient tombs. Not yet. Not until I was certain of what I saw.

"Are you coming?" Rowen asked, pausing at the door. The others had already started down the hallway, but he'd lingered, watching me with that penetrating gaze that seemed to strip away pretenses.

"Yeah." I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Just need a minute."

His tail twitched again. "Whatever's bothering you—" he began.

"After breakfast," I cut him off. "I'll explain everything after we eat."

He held my gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Don't keep secrets that could endanger her, angel," he warned, using the nickname that was half endearment, half reminder of what I was.

"I won't," I promised, and meant it. I would never do anything to put Sierra at risk. She was our omega, yes, but more than that. She was becoming essential in a way that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.

The kitchen was already filled with domestic chaos when we arrived. Callum had apparently decided that cooking was the perfect opportunity to distract Sierra from their shared ordeal. He stood behind her at the counter, supposedly showing her how to fold batter, but his lips kept finding the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"You're not helping," she protested weakly, tilting her head to give him better access even as she complained.

"I'm improving the experience," he countered, one hand splayed possessively across her stomach while the other reached for the whipped cream.

Before she could react, he'd dabbed a small dot on the tip of her nose. "Perfect," he declared, grinning as she gasped in mock outrage.

"You did not just—" She didn't finish as he leaned in to kiss it away, his tongue darting out to lick the sweetness from her skin.

Their laughter echoed in the spacious kitchen, a bright counterpoint to the darkness they'd faced together. I leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a mixture of affection and dread. Callum was deliberately lightening the mood, helping Sierra process the trauma of the shadow realm through touch and playfulness. It was working—the haunted look was gradually fading from her eyes with each kiss, each caress.

Rowen moved past me, squeezing my shoulder briefly before joining the others. He slid behind Sierra, trapping her between himself and Callum, and pressed his lips to the crown of her head.

"Are we making breakfast or recreating last night?" he asked dryly, though his hands belied his tone as they settled possessively on her hips.

"Both," Callum replied without missing a beat, reaching around Sierra to smear a dollop of whipped cream across Rowen's cheek.

The demon king's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing dangerously. "Bold move for someone in my kitchen," he growled, but there was no real anger in it.

Sierra laughed, the sound bright and genuine, as she watched them. Her eyes caught mine across the room, and she extended a hand. "Come help me," she pleaded dramatically. "I'm outnumbered by testosterone and terrible cooking advice."

I pushed away from the doorframe, forcing a smile. "Coming to the rescue," I replied, the words lighter than the weight in my chest.