Page 19 of Broken Fates (Severed Flames #3)

Chapter 19

Idris

V ale’s scream didn’t just shatter the world, it tried to unmake it.

Magic detonated, not just inside her, but through the bond, through us, through everything. It was a rupture. A snapping, violent unraveling, a force so raw it ripped into my chest, my mind, my soul.

I choked on it, staggered under the weight.

Because it wasn’t just grief.

It was loss sharpened into a blade. It was rage wrapped in lightning. It was power with nowhere to go—surging, splitting, breaking.

And it would kill her.

Her magic flared too bright, too unstable.

My breath caught in my lungs, the memory of losing her wrapping around my heart and squeezing. Vale couldn’t use this much power and not?—

A surge of magic flashed from her, and the whole room warped. The walls didn’t just bend inward—they cracked, black veins splintering through the stone, through the wards, through reality itself. The floor shuddered, the wood twisting as if it were alive, fighting to pull itself apart. The air thickened, turning into something crushing, suffocating, as reality seemed to coil in on us.

And still—Vale didn’t stop. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t fight.

She was breaking. And worse, I felt why.

Nyrah was gone.

My chest tightened, clenched, ruptured because I’d promised. I’d been the one to spell her to sleep. I’d been the one to shield her, protect her. I was the one who told Vale she would be safe, that she could relax, that she should rest.

And I’d failed.

I’d saved Vale instead of letting her fall with her sister. I’d pulled her free when I could have let them go together.

But I wouldn’t have. Not then. Not now. Not ever.

I would choose her a hundred times over, a thousand, a million. Even knowing the cost. Even knowing what it would do to her. Even knowing she might never forgive me.

Because Vale was mine. My mate. My Queen. And I had already watched her die once.

I would burn the world down before I let it happen again.

I forced myself to breathe. Forced myself to move.

Vale stood in the wreckage of her own power, her magic slamming into me, into all of us. She wasn’t just breaking—she was coming apart. She’d risked everything to bring Nyrah back, and now she’d lost her again.

And it was my fault. I had to face her. I had to face the storm I’d unleashed.

The bond twisted, pulled, suffocated, driving me into the heart of her ruin, forcing me to feel every fracture, every unraveling thread.

Rune’s voice rose in my mind, fire and judgment, and a fury so blistering it burned through my whole body. "You let her fall."

I flinched. Not from Vale. Not from Kian. Not from Xavier.

From him. From the dragon now rooted inside me, bound to me, part of me.

"You promised. Did you think I was guarding her for my health? After all she sacrificed for me—for us."

"I know," I croaked as I watched my mate crumbling before me.

"And you failed."

My jaw locked as guilt threatened to pull me under. Because I had, and now Vale was unraveling before my eyes.

She swayed, barely breathing, barely standing, but the Dreaming hadn’t taken her. It had taken Nyrah instead. Why?

Realization washed over me.

Because it couldn’t take Vale. Not yet. Not while she was still standing, still fighting, still too powerful to be claimed.

The bond between us pulsed, not just between me and Vale, but deeper—through Kian, through Xavier, through Rune, through the Dreaming itself.

And I felt it—a whisper of something watching. Waiting.

This wasn’t an attack. It was a test.

Zamarra’s magic coiled at the edges of the room, but it didn’t lunge. Didn’t try to drag Vale back into the Dreaming. Because it didn’t need to.

Vale was breaking herself. If she shattered completely, if she lost control, if she let herself fall, Zamarra wouldn’t have to steal her.

Vale would hand herself over.

A sharp burning sensation flared in my skull as Rune’s voice seethed through me, through the bond. “She’s waiting. Watching. You feel it, too.”

I clenched my teeth. “Why take Nyrah instead?”

A growl rumbled inside me, low, full of bitter understanding. “Because Nyrah is young and weak. Because she is poisoned. Because Vale is still whole.”

I swallowed hard.

Vale wasn’t corrupted. She wasn’t tainted. But she was breaking. And if she didn’t pull herself back together, she wouldn’t need to be taken.

She would go willingly.

Xavier moved first. Fast. Ruthless. Unrelenting.

He caught Vale’s face between his hands, tilting her chin up, forcing her to see him. “Vale. Look at me.”

She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Blood dripped from her nose as her magic rippled, vibrating through the air, a living, feral thing with claws. It wasn’t just power anymore—it was instinct, raw and unchecked. And it was hunting for something to destroy.

“Please, Vale,” Xavier whispered. “Don’t do this.”

Kian pressed against her back, his hands gripped the fabric of her tunic, her shoulders, his heat flaring as he tried to anchor her. His illusions pushed against the Dreaming, against Vale’s power, but they weren’t a match for it. They crumbled to dust as soon as they touched her light.

“Breathe, little queen,” he pleaded, his voice like broken glass.

She inhaled, but it was shallow, jagged, barely enough.

Then, her magic detonated, lashing outward—wild, uncontrollable, devastating.

The force slammed into Xavier’s chest, knocking him back a step. It snapped against Kian’s skin like a live wire, burning, cutting, threatening to break. But neither of them let go.

A snarl ripped from my throat, pure instinct, primal and protective. I surged forward, catching Vale’s arm, grounding her. I wouldn’t lose her again—couldn’t.

She didn’t fight. Not because she was listening. Because she was gone .

Her eyes were vacant, the green burning too bright, too untethered. She was slipping, the pull of the Dreaming stretching toward her like a black tide.

I tightened my grip, digging my claws into her skin—not to hurt, but to remind. “You think this is what she would want?”

Her breath hitched. Magic snarled, coiling at the edges of the room like a storm waiting to break.

“You think Nyrah would want you to die for her? Think she’d want you to let Zamarra win?”

“She’s gone. I lost her. I was supposed to keep her safe. I promised.”

A sob heaved in her chest, ricocheting through my heart, my lungs. It burned like acid, and worse, when she let out the sob she’d been holding inside, I worried it would break her in half.

“She was mine. My responsibility, my sister, my charge. My light. I would have withered away a thousand times if I didn’t have her and now?—”

The walls pulsed with power as she broke, but we wouldn’t let her do this alone.

“Come back to us, Vale. You can’t help your sister if you break now.” Kian’s voice cut through the chaos, steady, firm—iron forged in fire.

Vale shook, like she was physically straining against the truth of those words. Her power faltered. And then her eyes cleared, the warped reality bending back to rights.

“Then we get her back,” she growled, her voice firm, her shoulders straight.

“That’s my brave one,” I murmured through the bond, and those gorgeous green eyes found me. In them wasn’t blame or hatred, only determination.

Suddenly, magic swirled in the room, knocking the doors wide open.

Not from the Dreaming. No, this was new magic.

Not Vale’s. Not mine. Something else.

Talek staggered inside, his odd, color-shifting eyes burning, his entire body vibrating with strain. Magic clung to him, raw and jagged, crackling through the air like lightning with nowhere to go.

But he wasn’t looking at Vale.

His gaze locked onto me, sharp, cutting—like he knew something I didn’t.

A cold weight twisted inside my gut.

Then he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse, wrecked. “They took her.”

Vale stilled, her body snapping rigid. Her lips parted, and her breath hitched. “Nyrah?”

Talek nodded, and this time—his voice was sharper. “Briar, too.”

A sound ripped from Vale’s throat. Not a cry. Not a scream. A sound of something waking up.

Talek swiped a hand through his hair, his usually composed expression fractured with something close to grief. His magic still hummed, still churned, but he wasn’t letting it loose.

“She wouldn’t leave Nyrah,” he said, his voice raw. “When the Dreaming came for her”—He swallowed hard, jaw tightening like a vise—“she fought it.”

Vale swayed, and all three of us strengthened our grip on her so she wouldn’t go down. Talek’s fingers twitched at his side, like he wanted to do the same—but he stayed where he was.

“I tried to pull them back,” he continued, his voice dark, chilling. “But Briar wouldn’t let go. She held onto Nyrah. And then—” He exhaled sharply. “They were gone.”

Silence slammed into the room.

Vale’s chest heaved, and her hands shook uncontrollably.

I felt it through the bond—the moment she shattered all over again.

Her power rippled, not just reacting, but pulling, latching onto the edges of the Dreaming, yanking at the veil like she could rip it open and step through.

Talek took a sharp step forward, his gaze locking on her hands. “Vale.”

She didn’t answer. Her magic wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t contained anymore. It pulsed again, and Xavier, Kian, and I were knocked back, away, her power ripping us from our mate.

Talek swore, stepping toward her fast. “Fuck, this is going to hurt.”

His fingers latched onto her wrist and magic exploded. Pain whipped through the bond. Vale gasped, wrenching back, but Talek held her firm. His magic surged, ripping through her, through the room, sending fractures through reality itself. Light bent. Shadows lengthened. The walls shuddered, the air thickening.

Then the veil split open. Not just a crack, but a doorway, and they stepped through.

Not just flickering echoes. Not just whispers caught between realms. The Luxa.

More solid than I had ever seen them. Their presence pressed against the air, like a law of nature that had always existed but had never been fully realized.

The one in front—tall, regal, terrifying in her grace—lifted her chin, eyes gleaming with silver light as they locked onto Vale.

Recognition flashed in her expression. Not surprise. Understanding.

Talek exhaled sharply, his grip loosening. He stumbled back, sweat beading along his brow.

“Vale.” Xavier moved, reaching for her, but she didn’t budge. She was locked in place.

Because the Luxa leader bowed, with a slight tilt of her head. A flicker of deference.

Something ancient recognizing something older still.

Vale flinched. “What?—”

And then—the Luxa spoke. Not just words. A prophecy.

“The Blood of the First will show the way.”

The air vibrated, rippling with power.

“Seek the one lost to the Dreaming.”

Xavier tensed, Kian reached for Vale’s shoulders, and my pulse hammered.

I’d seen that first line before, carved into the walls of the temple, but I had never heard the rest.

Vale’s golden eyes narrowed, sharp with confusion. “What?”

“The blood awakens. The Dreaming calls.”

The words were woven with power, a thread through reality itself.

Vale swallowed hard, glancing at me, at Kian, at Xavier. None of us had heard this before. None of us had known. Except Vale.

Her lips parted, her pulse pounding through the bond. “You—you’ve said this before.”

A trace of something knowing passed across the Luxa leader’s face. “Yes.”

Vale’s breath hitched. “Then tell me”—Her hands clenched into fists—“what the hell does it mean? Who is the first? What do you want from me?”

The Luxa leader took a single step forward, her head tilting to the side with a ghost of a smile flitting across her lips, the first crack in her unreadable expression. “Your burden is great for someone so young, but you will bear it. It can only be you because Lirael is your mother.”

The world stopped.

I felt it through the bond, the way the revelation pierced Vale’s very being.

Her breath left her in a harsh exhale, her pulse hammering through the mate bond, a staccato rhythm of shock and denial.

“I—” She shook her head. “That’s not true?—”

The Luxa leader’s silver eyes softened. “Your parents came to the goddess of the Dreaming for help to stop what we all knew was coming.”

A whisper of something old drifted through the air, something almost tender, as if the Dreaming itself was listening.

“And the goddess answered.”

The Luxa stepped closer, her gaze unwavering.

“She conjured you from the Dreaming itself. You are not just Luxa, Vale. You are of the Dreaming. Born from it. Bound to it. It’s why your power is different. Why Zamarra wants you. Why she will stop at nothing to possess you.”

The room trembled.

Vale’s hands curled into fists, shaking. “No.”

Not a scream. Not a roar of defiance. Just one small word, breaking at the edges.

The Luxa leader canted her head. “You have always felt different… always known you were not like the rest. Because you are more.”

Vale flinched.

I moved closer, every instinct screaming at me to do something, to protect her from this, but there was nothing to fight.

Because deep in my heart I knew it was true. It was the only explanation—why the Dreaming always reached for her, why she could pull objects from it, why it called to her more than any Luxa I’d ever met.

The bond pulsed.

The walls shuddered.

The Dreaming watched.

Then the Luxa leader’s voice shifted, turning sharp as glass. “You cannot defeat Zamarra without us. As strong as you are, you will still need our help.”

Vale’s blazing green eyes snapped to hers. Her breath was still unsteady, but her spine straightened.

The Luxa stepped forward, the silver glow in her gaze burning brighter. “We are the lost.”

My pulse hammered.

Vale’s fingers flexed at her sides. “What?”

“We have been trapped between realms for centuries. Waiting. Watching.” The Luxa’s gaze sharpened. “You are the key.”

A ripple of power pressed into my chest, into all of us, as the words filled the space.

“Find us. Free us. And we will bring down the sleeping one before she fully wakes.”

Vale’s magic coiled in the air, no longer snapping wild—but focused. Controlled.

And when she finally spoke, her voice rang clear, steady, commanding.

Unbreakable.

"Tell me where to find you."

The Luxa leader lifted her head, silver-lit eyes burning with something deep, old, knowing. "Follow the fractures."

A pulse of power rippled through the air—not an attack, not a retreat. A parting gift.

She raised a hand—just barely. It wasn’t a spell. It wasn’t an attack. It was… a call.

The air shifted. A whisper of wind that wasn’t wind. A pulse of something felt in the bones. A small satchel on the end table twitched. It was dirty and tattered like it had been through war. Nyrah’s.

Vale’s breath caught as the air in my lungs froze.

Crumpled papers rose into the air. Three, maybe four, edges torn and wrinkled. They didn’t fall. They floated, spinning gently, glowing faintly.

The book. The Luxa history book Vale plucked from the Dreaming. It had pages torn from it. Nyrah had them all along.

The Luxa leader’s eyes shifted to Vale. Not a command. Not a question. A choice.

Vale reached out, and the pages didn’t hesitate. They snapped to her palm, pulsing with energy.

"She sought the answers before you,” she whispered, the edges of her body fading. “Now, they are yours."

The room warped around them, the unnatural shadows twisting, curling. The air shimmered, like the space between worlds was fraying at the edges.

And then, they began to fade. Not vanishing. Unraveling. Like a tapestry being unwoven, thread by thread.

The Dreaming recoiled, retreating, like a beast slinking back into the dark. The room settled. Solidified. But Vale’s hands were still trembling around the pages Nyrah had stolen from the book.

Vale inhaled slowly. Deeply.

“Follow the fractures,” she whispered as she gently wrapped her fingers around the ripped pages. Then she turned, her green eyes shining like emeralds.

"Get the book."