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Skye knew magic. He knew how aether moved, how it resisted, how it felt when it transformed. Even when magic went wrong it followed rules, and the collar… Fucking hell, he’d just watched it break every one of them.

It didn’t drain magic like a shadow mage would, seeking out weakness and tearing seams open in the underlying enchantment. It just… existed. And everything around it unraveled.

“How the hell are we supposed to fight against something like that?” he asked, voice low, dread a sinking pit in his stomach.

Ivain looked up from where he’d been turning the amulet over in his hand. The mid-morning sun was bright, cutting against the chill as they walked the cobbled streets toward home.

“Exactly which ‘ that’ would you be referring to? I’m already fighting a siege and an undead uprising. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Skye sidestepped a pile of torn banners and shattered glass someone had pushed to the curb, waiting to be swept away. “You saw what I saw back there. With the collar,” he said. “Our enemy has a way to completely nullify us. Our magic, our wards, our defenses—our very ability to exist and fight.”

Ivain arched an eyebrow. “I think you might be catastrophizing slightly.”

Skye barked a laugh. “Given what I saw that thing do to Kato, I think I’m catastrophizing just enough. The better question is why aren’t you?”

“Well, for one, we don’t know the scale to which this effect can be replicated,” Ivain pointed out. “And from what we’ve seen, it loses strength with distance—which means even if Aneirin does manage to weaponize it, we’ll see him coming.”

“Glad one of us is feeling hopeful,” Skye muttered.

Ivain chuckled under his breath. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to defend a city under siege? At my age?”

“And what age would that be exactly?” Skye asked, genuinely curious. No one knew exactly how old the old man was. “I mean, had they invented fire when you were born? Any hints?”

Ivain let a faint grin slip. “Cheeky.” And then didn’t answer.

He went on, “What I mean to say is that this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to hunker down in that house.

Why do you think we keep the basement stocked with two years of provisions?

Why do you think I built that damn city wall even though it was so Shards-forsaken expensive? ”

A moment of silence passed before Skye realized that Ivain was waiting for an answer.

“History repeats itself,” he said, reciting the familiar lesson.

Ivain rested a hand on his shoulder as they walked.

“You’re young. Everything is still new. But trust me, we will get through this.

So someone figured out how to enchant hyaline—so what?

What I’m more interested in is who did it, how they did it, and whether I can turn it to our advantage.

If at any point, I can’t find an answer, then I’ll worry. But we’re not there yet.”

He squeezed Skye’s shoulder before letting go, steering them towards a little street cart where he exchanged a few coins for a bag of popped corn. No butter. It was in low supply.

Most of the shops in town had stayed open. Ivain handed out rations to ease the added strain, but he still encouraged commerce—tried to keep the city running as close to normal as possible. It put people at ease going about their day-to-day lives, and people at ease didn’t mutiny.

“Granted, I’m not always right,” Ivain admitted as they continued walking. “We could all be headed towards a cliff and just don’t know it yet.”

Skye’s lips thinned, any previous sense of relief gone . “Why would you say that?”

Ivain chuckled and tossed a few pieces of popped corn into his mouth.

“Consider it a clumsy attempt to approach an uncomfortable subject. Case in point”—his tone softened—“I told you it was going to be impossible to bring Taly home, but you did it anyway. And I have never been happier to be proven wrong.”

Skye’s throat felt tight. He gave a terse nod. It didn’t fix anything, but it settled something raw in his chest, that small amount of validation.

He cleared his throat. “Next time, maybe believe me before my bondmate starts projecting and bleeding out of her eyes.”

Ivain huffed. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“And the way I see it, we’re even now.”

“How so?”

“Well, I do intend to marry your daughter.”

Ivain shot him a sideways look. “Does she know that?”

“Not yet.” But they were already bondmates. What was a piece of paper compared to eternity?

“I take it things between the two of you are going well then.”

Skye couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “They are.”

“As your guardian, I’m obligated to tell you your family isn’t going to be happy that you’ve attached yourself so permanently—and at such a young age.” Ivain’s tone was casual, but pointed. “I’ve seen the list of women your mother was planning to audition for the new her . It’s quite impressive.”

Oh, Skye was well aware of what lay ahead in his mother’s search for a new duchess.

“Are those your thoughts as well?” he asked. “Do you think it’s a mistake?”

Ivain shrugged. “I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid.”

“That’s helpful.”

“What do you think?”

Skye hesitated. “I think… we’ve still got centuries to figure it out. It’s not like we have to decide anything now.”

Ivain thumped him on the back of the head.

“Hey, what was—”

“I raised you to face your decisions head-on. Not hide behind weak, flimsy excuses for something that could change your life. And that of my daughter’s. Stop hedging. I asked what you think. Not what sounds safe.”

Skye sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

Ivain had been seeing through him since he was nine years old—today was no different.

“I was… surprised at first. But the more I think about it, I don’t know, I just feel…

really happy.” More than that. Content .

Like the loneliness he’d carried for so long had finally been fully exorcised.

“I mean, bond or no bond, I already want to spend the rest of my life with her. At least this means she can’t get away from me. ”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Ivain murmured.

“It feels like I’m making a mistake.”

“Does it?”

Skye shook his head. “No.” He couldn’t even lie to himself. “Am I crazy?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Ivain tossed another kernel in his mouth. “But only because I’ve met my daughter. I know what you’re signing up for.”

He had a point. Taly was stubborn. Difficult. Strong-willed. She’d been hard enough to live with as a human, and he didn’t see that getting any easier now that she had magic. She was still doubling down on every bad idea and reckless impulse.

And yet he couldn’t imagine a life without her. He’d already lived that reality once, and it had nearly broken him.

“Aside from my evidently poor taste in women... is there another reason I should be questioning my sanity here?”

Ivain chewed thoughtfully. “Most would balk at the idea of eternity,” he mused.

“Especially at your age when you still have it all out in front of you. There are costs to intertwining yourself with someone on that level—sacrifices you don’t even have the perspective to recognize yet.

And once it’s done, there’s no undoing it.

From that position, a pragmatist might argue against it. ”

It was everything Skye had expected him to say, but hearing it out loud made it settle differently. Heavier.

“On the other hand,” Ivain continued, cutting off the spiral of despair before it could take root, “life is long, and the years get lonely without someone to share them. You and Taly have been a matched set from the beginning, and that kind of connection is rare. Maybe even singular. At the end of a life that looks nothing like where you started, where the world and the people in it have all changed, I could also make an argument that the benefit of having that shared memory vested in another person might come to outweigh the costs. Eventually. Do with that what you will.”

They walked in silence for a while, the scuff of boots over cobblestone filling the quiet. The more Skye turned Ivain’s words over, the more settled he felt. There were risks, sure. Sacrifices he couldn’t fully see.

And still he knew—wherever she went, he’d be right there with her.

They turned onto their street and started up the hill. He finally said, “There’s, uh, something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You want me to teach you bloodcrafting.”

Skye blinked.

Ivain snorted faintly. “Don’t look so surprised.

You’ve got the look you always get when you’re about to ask me to do something that would have your mother demanding my head.

Plus, I know how your mind works. There are tough days ahead, and you want to be prepared.

You have obligations now. A mate to protect? ”

Skye cleared his throat. “You have to admit—Taly’s a magnet for trouble. A little extra ordnance might be useful.”

“Oh, they’re all like that,” Ivain said. Time mages. “Their magic is… wild, unpredictable, and never meant to be witnessed by anyone who values their sanity.”

He tossed the empty bag in a nearby bin and wiped his hands. “I’ll tell you the same thing my teachers told me: this is a bad idea. Not that I expect it to make any difference.”

“It won’t.” Skye’s mind was made up. He’d already proven it to himself at the bridge—he needed to get stronger.

“Which is why I’m also going to tell you the one thing I swore I would never do. I won’t choose between you and Taly. Your mother couldn’t make me do it, and neither will you. And that is, Skylen, what you’re asking me to do. Sacrifice you for her. My answer is no.”

“But—”

“No.”

Skye exhaled sharply. He hadn’t expected that. He truly, honestly, hadn’t believed that Ivain would refuse.

He’d already started down this path. Why pull back now?