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SIXTY-SEVEN

“S o this is the grand Madrigal vision?” Zina called, deliberately drawing all attention toward her and away from her friends. “Stealing power that isn’t yours through an ancient ritual you barely understand?”

Severin’s smile hardened. “It’s hardly stealing when you’re reclaiming what was promised to your ancestors.”

“Your interpretation of history seems conveniently self-serving,” she replied, completing her circuit of the room. She now stood directly across from the empty vertex of the ritual triangle—the space Severin had reserved for her blood.

“Interpretation is for historians and cowards,” Severin snapped. “The Madrigals were meant to be sole guardians of Enchanted Falls. The other founding families betrayed my ancestor Silas.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to justify kidnapping your own sister?” Zina asked, nodding toward Luciana.

For the first time, Luciana spoke, her voice steady despite her ordeal. “My brother has convinced himself of many things, Ms. Parker. Reality has long ceased to be a consideration.”

The look Severin shot his sister could have frozen fire. “You don’t understand the responsibility of our bloodline.”

“I understand it better than you ever will,” Luciana replied, her chin lifting. “Our ancestor’s journal spoke of partnership with the other founding families, not domination. You read what you wanted to see.”

Zina caught Luciana’s eye, exchanging a look of mutual understanding. The Madrigal sister hadn’t been a helpless victim—she’d been gathering evidence all along.

The orc mercenary reached for Zina, his fingers stretching toward her throat. She ducked beneath his grasp, completing her final positioning. Jamie chose that moment to strike, flinging handfuls of powder into the air.

The chamber erupted in a cloud of night-bloom snapdragon dust, igniting into harmless phosphorescent petals upon contact with the ritual magic. The botanical reaction released thousands of glowing flowers that pulsed with bio-luminescent light, temporarily blinding anyone who looked directly at them.

Mercenaries howled, swatting at the illuminated blossoms swirling around their heads. The mage stumbled back from his crystals, hands covering his eyes. Even Severin cursed, momentarily disoriented by the sudden floral light show.

“What is this trickery?” he snarled, blinking rapidly.

Zina used the distraction to make her move. With deliberate strides, she crossed the final distance and stepped directly into the vacant vertex of the triangle.

The chamber fell silent. Even the mercenaries stopped their flailing to stare in disbelief. Xai’s expression cycled through shock, understanding, and finally, fierce pride. Across the triangle, Luciana’s eyes widened before a small, hopeful smile curved her lips.

Severin recovered first, his face contorting with triumph. “How accommodating of you, Ms. Parker. Surrendering to spare your friends?”

“You wanted Parker blood,” Zina replied, her voice steady despite the thundering of her heart. “But you forgot something important about the Founding Pyre ritual.”

“And what might that be?” Severin asked, confidence lacing his tone as he returned to his grimoire.

“Intent is everything,” she stated, memory flowing through her like warm honey. Nights spent on her mother’s lap as Fiona Parker explained ancient magic principles. Bedtime stories not of princesses but of ley lines and protective barriers. “The Pyre’s first law—power flows from purpose, not from blood alone.”

Understanding dawned on Xai’s face, followed by admiration. Across the triangle, Luciana caught Zina’s eye and tilted her chin up—their agreed signal. The subtle nod acknowledged their unspoken plan.

“Blood is blood,” Severin dismissed with a wave of his hand. “And yours will complete the triangle regardless of your thoughts on the matter.” He nodded to the mercenaries. “Begin the final sequence.”

The tattooed mage resumed his positions, chanting while placing the final crystals. The orc moved to a secondary altar, grinding herbs with renewed purpose. Blood moonlight streamed directly onto the center of the triangle, bathing everything in otherworldly crimson.

Zina locked eyes with Xai, a world of communication passing between them without words. Then with Luciana, who gave the slightest nod of confirmation. Taking a deep breath, Zina extended a single claw and pricked her palm.

Three drops of blood fell onto the ritual circle.

Instead of fighting the process, she focused her entire being on protection—on safeguarding Enchanted Falls and its inhabitants. Memories flooded her mind: her father teaching her to shift safely in the forest behind their home; her mother designing the spa with hidden protective sigils; the community that had embraced her after her parents’ deaths.

A Pyre built on protection can never fuel domination , her mother had taught her. Remember this if nothing else, my cub.

Across the triangle, she saw Xai close his eyes in concentration, his breathing synchronizing with hers. Luciana did the same, her posture relaxing as if surrendering to a current.

The blood moon reached its apex, crimson light intensifying to near-blinding levels. Severin’s voice rose above the mage’s chanting, speaking words of binding and control that echoed against the stone walls.

Energy surged through the ritual circle, connecting the three points of the triangle. Zina breathed deeply, feeling Xai and Luciana match her rhythm. The three representatives of the founding families—dragon, panther, and lion—created perfect balance, exactly as their ancestors had intended centuries ago.

For a moment, the ritual proceeded as Severin intended. The circle glowed red, power building as the blood moon fueled the ancient magic. But then, something shifted. The energy rippled, faltering like water flowing against a sudden change in current.

The counter-sunwise lines flickered, glowing white instead of red. Fissures appeared in the inverted sigils, spreading like cracks in overheated glass.

“What’s happening?” Severin demanded, frantically flipping pages in his grimoire. His usually perfect hair fell across his forehead as he searched for explanations. “This isn’t the correct response!”

The chamber rumbled, stone grinding against stone. Dust rained from the ceiling as chandeliers swayed and shattered. The mercenaries backed toward the exits, their confidence evaporating as magical feedback lashed through the room like lightning.

“It’s responding to our intent,” Zina called over the growing magical storm. “Protection, not power. Balance, not control.”

Between Zina and Xai, streams of turquoise energy—her lioness earth fire—spiraled upward, intertwining with threads of gold—his dragon starfire. The combined magic wove through Luciana’s silver-violet panther aura, creating a complex lattice that stabilized the triangle despite the chamber’s deterioration.

The sight stole Zina’s breath. Physical manifestation of their connection, beautiful despite the chaos surrounding them. Xai’s eyes found hers across the triangle, filled with wonder and something deeper—an emotion she’d seen glimpses of but now recognized fully as love.

“No!” Severin shouted, his perfectly composed facade crumbling. His face contorted with rage as his plans unraveled before his eyes. “This is my birthright! Mine!”

With a feral snarl that was more lion than human, he launched himself toward Zina, body flickering between forms. His partially shifted claws extended toward her throat, golden fur rippling down his arms as he abandoned calculation for primal attack.

Several things happened simultaneously.

Xai roared—a sound that shook the foundation stones of the manor. His chains shattered as draconic rage overrode the mithril’s absorption capabilities. Partial dragon wings erupted from his back, scales spreading across his shoulders and down his arms as he lunged toward Zina.

At the same moment, she slashed downward with her own clawed hand, severing a glowing ley line filament at her feet. The redirected current struck Severin mid-leap. Red lightning engulfed his form, outlining his body in crimson energy.

He screamed—a sound that started as a lion’s roar but ended as a human wail. When the light faded, he collapsed to the ground, his body smoking slightly. His once-golden eyes stared upward, now a dull amber.

Xai reached Zina in the next heartbeat, wings curving protectively around her as he pulled her against his chest. His partial shift had left him magnificent—golden scales shimmering across his skin, eyes blazing with protective fire. Heat radiated from his body, chasing away the chamber’s chill.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, hands running over her arms and face, checking for injuries.

“Only my pride,” she murmured, leaning into his touch. “Turns out even spa owners can make miscalculations.”

His laugh rumbled against her cheek, relief evident in the sound. “That,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “was either the bravest or most reckless thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

She tilted her face up to his. “Why choose? I excel at both.”

The heat in his gaze intensified. Without warning, he bent and captured her mouth with his. The kiss was fierce, possessive, conveying everything words couldn’t—the fear of losing her, the pride in her courage, the depth of his feelings. His scales brushed against her skin, warm and smooth, as his arms tightened around her.

Zina responded with equal fervor, her lioness purring beneath her skin as she wound her arms around his neck. This wasn’t a time for restraint or propriety—they’d faced death together and emerged victorious. The primal parts of their nature demanded acknowledgment.