Page 28

H argen

The training arena erupts with light as Ember releases another burst of raw magic. The energy pulses across the room, scorching the reinforced walls and leaving trails of frost in its wake—fire and ice in impossible combination.

Holy fuck.

The thought hits me every time I watch her work. After all the time I spent handling magical assets for the Syndicate, I’ve never seen anything like what my daughter can do.

“Again,” I say, circling her with careful steps. “But this time, focus on direction, not just power.”

Ember glares at me, sweat beading on her forehead, hair sticking to her temples.

We’ve been at this for hours, pushing her abilities to their limits.

One week at the Aurora Collective, and already she’s outpacing their expectations.

The kid’s got more raw talent in her pinky finger than most dragons manage in a lifetime.

“I’m tired,” she says, but raises her hands again, nonetheless. The determination in her eyes never wavers.

“Your mother trained like this for days without rest.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

We’ve developed an unspoken agreement to limit mentions of Vanya, but sometimes the parallels are too strong to ignore.

Sometimes I can’t help but see echoes of the woman I lost in every gesture our daughter makes.

Ember’s concentration breaks, the magic fizzling between her fingertips. “Did she? You’ve never mentioned that before.”

I lower my defensive stance, recognizing that the training session has effectively ended. “She was relentless when learning new techniques. Wouldn’t stop until she mastered them completely.”

Stubborn as hell, just like you.

“Even the dangerous ones?” Ember moves to the bench along the wall, reaching for a water bottle.

As she does so, she pats her top pocket where a faint bulge marks the outline of Vanya’s folded letter to her.

She’s kept it there since I gave it to her after we arrived.

I never learned what she wrote there. Probably goodbye. Maybe a plea for understanding.

“Especially those.” I join her, watching as she gulps down water with the thirst of someone who’s just expelled significant magical energy. “She was the strongest dragon I ever knew.”

“Stronger than me?” There’s something playful in Ember’s voice, but underneath, I catch the hint of scales along her jawline—barely visible, but there. Her dragon nature bleeding through when her emotions run high.

“Different kind of strength.” I study her face, noting how quickly the scales fade. “You’re still learning what you’re capable of.”

Ember studies me with that penetrating gaze she inherited from Vanya. “You still love her.”

Not a question. An observation delivered with the unvarnished directness of youth. No point in dancing around the truth—the kid’s too smart for that bullshit.

“Yes.”

“Then why did we leave her behind?” The hurt in her voice is raw, unprocessed. “Why aren’t we doing something to help her?”

Because I’m a fucking coward.

I’ve asked myself the same question every night since we arrived. Each time I think about what she’s facing back there, alone, the guilt threatens to overwhelm me. She’s out there risking everything, and when push comes to shove, I run like a scared dog with my tail between my legs.

“Because she made me promise to keep you safe.” I pull in a breath. “And sometimes keeping promises means doing things that tear you apart.”

Ember looks away, but not before I catch the shimmer of tears. “My birthday is next week.”

“I know.”

How could I forget? It’s been counting down in my head like a goddamn clock.

“Mom always said something important would happen when I turned twenty-one.” She fiddles with the cap of her water bottle. “That everything would change. Some kind of… dragon rite of passage.”

“Your mother was right.” I choose my words carefully. “Twenty-one is when dragons typically reach full manifestation. For you, with your mixed heritage, it might be even more significant.”

“And now you’re protecting me.” She doesn’t sound entirely pleased by this arrangement.

“It’s what parents do.”

What they should do, anyway. What I should have been doing all along, if only I’d known I had a daughter.

Her smile is small but genuine. “Parents. Plural. That’s still strange to hear.”

Before I can respond, the door to the training arena slides open.

Nadia enters with her characteristic fluid grace, those strange silver-green eyes taking in the scorch marks along the walls.

She reminds me of Vanya in some ways—the careful observation, the sense that she’s always thinking three steps ahead.

“Impressive,” she says, nodding toward the frost-edged burn patterns. “Not many can manifest opposing elements simultaneously.”

Ember brightens at the praise. In the week since our arrival, she’s formed an unexpected bond with the mysterious wolf shifter.

Perhaps because Nadia understands what it means to exist between worlds.

Hell, maybe I should be grateful the kid has someone to talk to who isn’t carrying around two decades’ worth of guilt and regret.

“She’s getting stronger every day,” I say.

“Too strong, too fast,” Nadia replies, her expression concerned. “Viktor wants to see you. Both of you.”

Shit. The summons isn’t unexpected, but the timing feels ominous.

The Aurora leader has been monitoring Ember’s progress with interest, though he tries to disguise it as routine oversight.

Viktor Parlance doesn’t do anything without a reason, and his reasons tend to involve situations going sideways fast.

“Now?” Ember asks, already gathering her things.

Nadia nods. “Something’s happened.”

The three of us make our way through the Collective’s underground complex. Aurora members nod in greeting as we pass, some eyeing Ember with undisguised curiosity. Word of her unique abilities has spread quietly through the community.

Viktor is standing at the window as we arrive, turning to face us as we enter. Something about his posture sets my teeth on edge. I’ve seen that particular brand of tension before, usually right before everything goes to hell.

“You’ve made impressive progress,” he says, addressing Ember directly. “The reports from your training sessions are quite remarkable.”

Ember straightens under his scrutiny. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Viktor moves to his desk, activating a holographic display. Maps, data streams, intelligence feeds—all the hallmarks of incoming information. “We’ve received troubling reports from our contacts in Syndicate territory.”

Shit. Here it comes.

“What kind of reports?” I keep my voice steady, professional, though my nerves are screaming.

Viktor’s expression is grim. “Enhanced interrogation procedures. They’re implementing what they’re calling ‘loyalty verification’ for high-ranking members.”

Fuck. “How enhanced?”

“The invasive kind. Magical scanning designed to strip away mental defenses and expose hidden agendas.” His attention shifts between Ember and me. “Our source indicates these procedures began three days ago.”

The unspoken implication hangs in the air. Someone with access to Syndicate intelligence is feeding Aurora information. Someone who would know about loyalty verification procedures. Someone who’s probably on the target list.

“Has anyone been detained?” I try to keep my voice level.

“Impossible to confirm specifics from this distance.” Viktor’s tone carries careful neutrality. “But given the timing and scope of the verification procedures, we felt it prudent to inform you.”

Ember glances between us, clearly sensing the undercurrents. Smart kid. Too smart for her own good, probably.

“This is about my mom, isn’t it?”

The directness of her observation makes Viktor’s eyebrow rise slightly. “We maintain surveillance on Syndicate operations as a matter of course.”

“That’s not what I asked.” She stands straighter, chin lifting in that unconscious gesture of defiance she inherited from her mother. “You think she’s in danger.”

Viktor studies her for a long moment before nodding slowly. “It’s possible. We’re monitoring the situation closely.”

“And if something happens to her?”

“Then we do everything in our power to help,” Viktor says simply. “But right now, our priority is ensuring your safety as you approach your twenty-first birthday.”

It’s more direct than Viktor usually is, a sign that he recognizes something important about the timing. Ember’s coming of age isn’t just personal—it’s potentially significant for the broader magical community.

“Thank you,” she says, surprising me by not pressing further.

After we’re dismissed, Nadia offers to show Ember some meditation techniques that might help with emotional control during magical practice. I’m grateful for the woman’s intervention—it gives me the space I need to process what we’ve just learned.

Instead of returning to my quarters, I find myself walking the compound’s perimeter. The mountain air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and snow. In the distance, peaks rise toward a sky that’s just beginning to show stars.

Loyalty verification.

I know what that means—magical interrogation designed to strip away mental defenses and expose hidden loyalties. The kind of procedure that would reveal exactly what someone’s been hiding for years.

Someone like the Shadowhand. Someone who’s been playing a dangerous double game while feeding intelligence to Aurora. Someone who chose to stay behind rather than escape to safety.

Vanya.

I lean against the compound’s outer fence, closing my eyes and trying to settle my roiling emotions.

“Hargen?”

I turn to find Ember approaching, her expression troubled. In the starlight, she looks older than her twenty years. More like the woman she’s becoming and less like the girl I’m still learning to know.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She shakes her head, moving to stand beside me at the fence. “I keep thinking about Mom.”

The simple words hit harder than any accusation could. Because she’s right to be thinking about her. Right to be worried.

“She’s strong,” I say, though the words feel hollow. “Stronger than anyone gives her credit for.”

“Is she?” Ember’s voice carries quiet desperation. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s about to sacrifice herself. Again.”

Again.

The word cuts deep because it’s true. Vanya has spent twenty years choosing duty over personal happiness. And now she might be about to pay with her life.

“Your mother made an impossible choice,” I say carefully. “She stayed behind because people would die if she disappeared.”

“People like me.”

“People like you.”

We stand in silence, both of us staring out at mountains that hide everything we’ve lost.

After a few minutes, Ember speaks again. There’s a tremor in her voice. “Do you think she’ll survive this?”

The question I’ve been dreading. The one I can’t answer honestly without terrifying her.

“I think your mother has survived worse.” I turn to face her directly. “And I think she’s got more reasons to fight now than she’s had in years.”

“Because of us.”

“Because of us.”

Ember nods slowly, processing this. When she looks at me again, there’s steel in her expression—pure Vanya determination looking back at me.

“Then we wait,” she says simply. “And if she needs us…”

“We’ll be ready.”

It’s not much of a plan. Hell, it’s barely even hope. But it’s what we have. And maybe, for now, it’s enough.

As we walk back toward the main complex, I catch the faint shimmer of scales along Ember’s forearms—dragon heritage responding to emotional stress. She’s learning to control it, but the power is there, growing stronger as her birthday approaches.

Whatever happens next, whatever comes of Vanya’s dangerous game, I’ll make sure our daughter gets through it.

Even if it kills me.