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SIXTY-EIGHT

W hen they finally broke apart, Zina became aware of their audience. Bryn and Jamie had emerged from behind the pillar, looking disheveled but triumphant. Bryn wore a knowing smirk while Jamie busied herself checking on the mercenaries, who remained disoriented from her snapdragon dust attack.

“Get a room, you two,” Bryn called, brushing stone dust from her clothes. “Preferably one without ancient magical artifacts or unconscious bad guys.”

Luciana approached them, her manacles having deactivated when the ritual reversed. Despite her torn dress and disheveled appearance, she maintained a dignified bearing.

She knelt beside her brother’s still form, checking his pulse with practiced efficiency. “He’s alive,” she announced, her expression complex—relief mingled with sorrow. “But I can’t sense his lion anymore. The backlash severed his connection to his shifter side.”

“A fitting consequence,” Xai observed, his wings gradually retracting as his shift receded. Golden scales still shimmered across his hands where they wrapped around Zina’s waist. “He sought to corrupt the balance of power. Now he’ll live without his own.”

Luciana rose, shoulders straight despite her obvious exhaustion. “I’ve been gathering evidence of my brother’s activities for months,” she said. “Financial records, correspondence with mercenaries, plans to manipulate ley lines—all documented. I’ll testify before the council to ensure he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“That couldn’t have been easy,” Zina said softly, recognizing the courage such a decision required. “He’s still your brother.”

“Family isn’t just blood,” Luciana replied, a sad smile touching her lips. “It’s also choice. Severin made his long ago when he decided power mattered more than people.” She brushed dust from her torn sleeve in a gesture of composure. “I’m making mine now.”

The chamber rumbled again, drawing their attention to the still-glowing triangle. The ritual circle had stabilized, but the magical backlash had damaged the chamber’s structural integrity. Cracks spread across the floor beneath the triangle, releasing wisps of golden energy.

“We need to get back to the Founding Pyre,” Zina said, sudden urgency filling her voice. “This reversal will have affected it.”

Xai nodded, his arm tightening around her waist. “Can you walk?”

She straightened, summoning her remaining strength and trying not to lean too obviously against his solid warmth. “I’ve got a spa to save and a magical flame to stabilize. Walking is non-negotiable.”

His low chuckle vibrated against her side as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “That’s my lioness.”

The possessive claim sent a pleasant shiver through her body. Five days ago, she’d been a normal spa owner, worried about profit margins and aromatherapy blends. Now she stood in the arms of an ancient dragon shifter who looked at her like she’d hung the moon.

Life in Enchanted Falls certainly kept things interesting.

“Let’s get Severin secured first,” she suggested, reluctantly stepping from Xai’s embrace. “I doubt he’ll stay unconscious forever.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Jamie said, producing enchanted binding cuffs from her seemingly bottomless herbalist pouch. “Anti-magic restraints. They’ll dampen any residual abilities he might have.”

“And I’ve already called Artair,” Bryn added, holding up a communication crystal. “He’s sending security to transport Severin to the council’s holding cells.”

As they prepared Severin for transport, Zina surveyed the chamber once more. The glowing triangle connection between her, Xai, and Luciana remained visible—three magical signatures intertwining in harmonious balance. Something profound had happened here tonight, something that would change their roles in Enchanted Falls forever.

The mate bond between her and Xai pulsed strong and steady, a golden thread tying them together through the chaos. She hadn’t expected to find love while defending her mother’s legacy, but as her lioness purred contentedly despite her exhaustion, Zina realized some things were simply meant to be.

“Ready?” Xai asked, offering his hand.

She laced her fingers through his, drawing strength from the contact. “As I’ll ever be.”

Together, they left the chamber, heading toward whatever awaited them at the Pyre—and beyond.

The journey back to Purrfect Oasis Spa took longer than Zina anticipated. Magical backlash had disrupted transportation spells throughout Enchanted Falls, forcing them to travel on foot through forest shortcuts known only to longtime residents.

Dawn painted the eastern sky in pale gold and rose by the time they reached the spa’s back entrance. Xai kept pace beside her, one hand firmly clasped with hers, occasionally pulling her close when fatigue made her steps falter. Bryn and Jamie followed behind with Luciana, who insisted on accompanying them despite her ordeal.

“The balance requires all three bloodlines,” she’d explained when Zina suggested she rest. “My brother’s actions don’t erase my responsibility to our heritage.”

The spa building stood intact, though evidence of conflict marked the perimeter—scorch marks on the wisteria-covered walls, deep claw gouges in the garden soil, shattered crystals that had once lined the meditation path.

“Looks like your staff handled Severin’s enforcers,” Xai observed, scanning the area with sharp dragon eyes.

“Never underestimate massage therapists,” Zina replied with tired pride. “We know exactly where all the pressure points are.”

As if summoned by her words, the back door swung open. Thora Halliwell stood framed in the doorway, her leather jacket torn at one shoulder but her expression triumphant. Behind her, Artair Maxen’s imposing form blocked much of the hallway, his normally pristine suit disheveled but his bear-shifter confidence undiminished.

“About time you showed up,” Thora remarked, arms crossed over her chest. “We were about to organize a second rescue party.”

“How did it go with Severin?” Artair asked, his deep voice rumbling with concern.

“He’s secured,” Xai replied. “Council security is transporting him to containment as we speak.”

“Good.” Thora’s amber eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “We eliminated several of his enforcers who tried to breach the spa’s foundation.”

“Non-lethally,” Artair added when Zina’s eyebrows rose. He cleared his throat. “Mostly.”

“They’re trussed up in the supply closet,” Thora continued. “That lavender-infused rope of yours packs quite a magical punch, by the way.”

Zina couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Mom always said lavender had calming properties. Guess she meant that literally.”

They moved through the spa’s main floor, surveying the damage. Considering the battle that had clearly taken place, the space had fared remarkably well. A few broken mirrors, overturned massage tables, scattered crystals—nothing that couldn’t be repaired.