Page 28

LILLITH

T he cottage had never been quieter, yet the silence wasn’t heavy, it hummed with something new. Something sacred.

Lillith stood barefoot by the fireplace, wrapped in one of Dominic’s old flannels, sleeves swallowing her hands.

He was still asleep, sprawled across the bed like he’d claimed every inch of it with his lion-sized ego and broad shoulders.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden stripes across his bare back.

She couldn’t look at him without her chest tightening.

She’d almost lost him.

And now he was here. Alive. The bond gone, but the connection still burning—choice over fate.

Her hands trembled slightly as she stirred the tea. Not from fear, not entirely. Just the edges of everything catching up. The adrenaline was gone. All that remained now was truth.

And the future.

“Lil?”

She turned. His voice was rough with sleep, his eyes still clouded but focused on her like she was the only star in a sky full of fire.

“You’re up,” she said, trying not to melt when he smiled at her like that.

He sat up, moving slowly. “You left a lion shifter in your bed alone. Bold choice.”

“Figured you’d survive ten minutes without me,” she teased, handing him the tea as she sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

He took it gratefully, their fingers brushing. “You’re glowing, you know.”

“Residual goddess rage,” she said. “Or lack of sleep.”

He chuckled and sipped. “We need to talk.”

The shift in his voice was instant. Gone was the teasing curl of his lips, the boyish glint in his eyes. In their place: tension coiled in his shoulders and a shadow behind his gaze. His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking like a clock counting down to something dark.

Lillith’s brows furrowed. She folded her legs beneath her, settling in with a seriousness that mirrored his own. “Okay. Tell me.”

He looked at the cup in his hands for a long moment, like searching its steam for courage.

“Thaloryn talked,” Dominic said, voice low and rough. “When he thought I couldn’t get out… when he thought the dreamscape would keep me locked away, he monologued. Like some villain out of a cursed storybook.”

Lillith sat straighter, her breath shallow. “What did he say?”

“He wants the Moonlit Pact,” Dominic said. “He wants to remake it. Not just use it.”

Her frown was immediate. “That doesn’t make sense. The Pact’s a stabilizer. It’s what keeps the ley lines from overloading, keeps wild magic in check. Without it…”

“He doesn’t want it for containment,” Dominic said, eyes hard. “He wants to free the wild magic. Tear down the wards. Shatter the lines. Return the world to what it was before the Pact was forged. Back when the fae reigned, unchallenged. Before human coalitions. Before the old peace.”

Lillith’s breath stilled. “He wants to unmake the world.”

“Exactly. All this—” Dominic gestured vaguely, “—the curses, the shadow beasts, the glamour traps, the tethered bond... they’re collateral. He’s testing thresholds. Seeing what the world can hold before it breaks.”

She blinked. “And we were one of his tests.”

He nodded grimly. “He knew we were tied. He didn’t create the bond—he just twisted what was already there. Because our connection, our resistance to magic, it proved something. That certain threads of magic can’t be rewritten without consequence. That there are still forces older than him.”

Lillith’s skin prickled. “So he’s using those consequences. Weaponizing them.”

“Yeah,” Dominic said. “And he’s done being subtle. His next move is to infiltrate the Council of Concords.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The council?”

“He said the humans have gotten arrogant. Lazy. He plans to use the Echo rifts, channeling old magic through them, destabilizing borders between realms. That way, when he shows up with solutions—offerings to ‘heal’ the tear—he’ll look like a savior. Not a threat.”

Lillith sat back slowly, her mind racing. “So he creates chaos, then shows up with control.”

“Exactly,” Dominic said. “Classic power grab. He’s not just after us anymore. He wants the entire Accord system shattered. He wants to rebuild the world, throne by throne, with him at the top.”

She swallowed hard. “And if the Pact falls…”

“There’ll be no boundaries between realms,” Dominic finished. “No rules. Just raw, ancient power flooding through the world again. Cities will crumble. Magic will rot the ground. Creatures we’ve only read about in fairy tales will walk under daylight.”

Lillith went silent. She could hear the thrum of the ley lines from her cottage—always could. It had been background noise since she was a child. But now, she imagined them unraveling. Threads snapping. The heartbeat of the world falling out of rhythm.

Her voice was small when she said, “That’s madness.”

Dominic’s gaze locked with hers. “He’s not just after us anymore, Lil. He’s after everything.”

Silence sat between them for a long breath, heavy and electric.

“And I think,” he added, “he’s going to the council next. Not just to speak. To infiltrate. To curse the charter, maybe. Something worse.”

Lillith’s fingers twitched in her lap. “Then we need to warn them.”

“We need to do more than that,” Dominic said.

His voice was harder now, clipped with purpose.

“We need proof. We need records. The original Pact transcriptions. Your research. Maybe even whatever’s buried at Echo Archive.

If Markus still has contacts at the Concord library, we can start there. We’ll need to move fast.”

Her throat worked as she nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay. We can do that. I have notes. Glyph studies. And a coded ledger Rowan helped me with last year. Might be something there.”

“Good,” he said, setting the empty cup aside. “We don’t wait for him to strike next. We don’t react—we outplay him.”

Lillith looked at him, and for a moment she wasn’t a woman haunted by old ghosts, or a runaway noble turned wardweaver. She was his. And she was ready.

“I’m with you,” she said, voice quiet but unshakable.

He turned to her, something like wonder in his eyes. “You mean that?”

Her smile was small, but real. “I mean it.”

Dominic reached for her hand, lacing their fingers. No magic surged this time. No bond hummed in their skin. Just touch.

Lillith reached to her nightstand, pulling out a small bundle wrapped in silk. She handed it to him, her fingers lingering as he took it.

“What’s this?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Open it.”

He did, carefully. Inside was a bracelet—worn leather, dark and sturdy, threaded with silver and marked by three runes stitched in thread that shimmered gold in the light.

“A rune-sigil?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Protection. Clarity. Loyalty,” she said. “It’s not magical like the tether. It doesn’t bind you. It doesn’t control. But it’s yours. If you want it.”

Dominic looked up at her, something raw flickering behind his eyes.

“I wanted to give you something by choice,” she said softly. “Not because of magic. Not because we had to. Just because I see you. And I trust you.”

He didn’t speak.

Instead, he looped the bracelet around his wrist and fastened it with care.

“I’ll never take it off,” he said hoarsely.

Lillith looked down, her throat tight. “Good. Because this time, we do this together. No more secrets. No more almosts.”

He reached for her, his hand warm against her jaw. “You’re everything I never knew I needed.”

She leaned in, resting her forehead against his. “Then let’s protect it. Protect us. ”

For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. Not the prince. Not the Pact. Just the two of them, two broken pieces finally learning to fit.

But as the wind rattled the windowpanes and an unnatural chill crept in from the woods, Lillith knew one thing for certain. This was only the beginning.