Page 39

KAIA

T he bunker feels smaller now.

Maybe it’s the weight of everything pressing down, maybe it’s the way the air thickens with magic just being near this many broken, dangerous people under one roof—but it’s harder to breathe. Harder to think.

I trail a few steps behind Elias as we move through the narrow hall, our boots crunching over the scattered grit and dust. He’s tense, too quiet, that loose, predatory way he walks when he’s bracing for something to go wrong.

I don’t blame him.

"You sure about this?" I murmur, nudging my shoulder into his arm.

Elias glances down, the faintest curve of a smirk ghosting his mouth, but it’s hollow. "No," he says simply. "But I’m doing it anyway."

I know that feeling all too fucking well.

We head toward the infirmary where Mom and Tarek are resting, the faint glow of the healing wards barely lighting the way.

My stomach knots tighter with every step.

Because part of me still hates her. Part of me still wants to scream at her for all the lies.

But a bigger part wants answers. Needs them.

And gods, if I’m honest... I just want my mom back.

When I slip into the room, Mira’s sitting up, a blanket around her shoulders, her golden hair falling wild around her face. Her skin looks better—less bloodless, less brittle—but her eyes... her eyes are fucking haunted.

"Kaia," she breathes, voice hoarse.

I linger near the door, arms crossed, heart pounding so loud it drowns out everything else.

"Talk," I say. "I’m done waiting."

Her smile is so broken it guts me.

She pats the bed beside her. I don’t move. I can't. Not yet.

"I owe you the truth," she says, voice steadying. "All of it."

Tarek stirs nearby, offering me a nod of quiet encouragement before turning his attention deliberately away to give us space as Elias comes to his bedside.

It’s strange seeing him like this, an Alpha made prisoner by his own blood, but still radiating strength even half-crippled by what the Order did to him.

Mom folds her hands in her lap, her gaze locked on mine.

"You’re half-Fae, Kaia. You know that now."

I nod stiffly. "Found out the hard way."

Her mouth twists like the truth tastes bitter. "I hid it from you to protect you. To protect the world."

My hands tighten into fists. "Yeah? How’s that working out?"

She flinches, but she deserves that.

"You were born... special," she says carefully. "As I said before, you’re the prophecy and I have a feeling Elias may have mentioned some things to you as well.” She takes a careful breath before continuing. “You ar the last true anchor. Your magic isn’t just Fae. It’s tied to the Veil itself. To the balance between worlds."

I blink. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means," she says, voice shaking, "that if you die—if you lose control—if the wrong people bind your magic... the Veil collapses. Reality fractures. Worlds bleed into each other. And the chaos that would unleash..." She shudders. "There wouldn’t be anything left to save."

Silence crashes down around us, thick and absolute.

I stagger back a step, almost knocking into the doorframe.

"Why didn’t you fucking tell me?" I rasp. "I deserved to know."

"Because you deserved a childhood," she whispers. "You deserved to choose your own fate."

I laugh, sharp and broken. "Some fucking choice."

She leans forward, urgency in her voice now. "It’s not too late, Kaia. The Veil can be healed. It’s torn, yes, but not beyond mending. There's a way to anchor it again—to stabilize it until the worlds naturally separate like they were meant to."

I stare at her, my whole body buzzing like a live wire.

"And what’s the catch?" I ask, because there’s always a catch.

Her eyes fill with tears she refuses to let fall. "You would have to bind your magic. Permanently. To someone else strong enough to hold the other end."

I already know who she means before she says it.

Elias.

My chest squeezes painfully.

"But it’s not just binding," Mom says. "The ritual could kill you. If it doesn’t, it could wipe your memories clean. Of everything. Of everyone."

I stagger another step back, shaking my head like I can make the words un-say themselves.

"No," I whisper. "No, there’s gotta be another way."

"There isn’t," she says, voice cracking.

I drag in a breath that tastes like ashes.

It’s not the death aspect that scares me so much. It’s living without him. With no memory of the feelings I know now. Because if I choose this... if I go through with the ritual… I might save the world. But I might forget everyone I love. Forget Elias.

The thought guts me worse than anything Jareth ever said.

I look over at Elias talking quietly with his father and it almost shatters me.

I don’t realize I’m crying until Mom stands and pulls me into a hug, her arms fierce around me.

"You’re stronger than this," she murmurs into my hair. "Stronger than me. Stronger than him."

I squeeze my eyes shut. Just for a second. Just long enough to borrow her strength.

Then I pull back, scrub my face clean, and nod.

“You’ll show me, won’t you? How to do it?” I ask, sounding like a scared little girl and for once, not being afraid of showing that side of me.

My mother's smile is small and her nod is even smaller.

"I'll do it," I say, voice hard and trembling. "If it means saving him. Saving all of them."

She smiles through her tears.

"You were always meant to be more than a soldier, Kaia."

No matter the cost, no matter the risk, I would choose him.

Every damn time.

And somehow, somehow, I have to find a way to tell him without breaking both our hearts.