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LIORA

I wake in silence. Not the kind that soothes. The kind that follows destruction.

My body aches like I ran through fire and didn’t quite make it out. The loft is quiet, filled with the low hum of protection wards, snoring rebels, and tension so thick I swear I can taste it in the back of my throat.

They don’t know what I did. Not all of it. Dante hasn’t told them. Yet.

Gods, he should.

My fingers twitch with residual magic. My skin still glows faint beneath the surface—like starlight stitched into flesh. I remember it all now. The way the world cracked around me. The way Thorne’s blood soaked the ground. The way I broke reality.

And I remember Seraphiel’s voice like it’s still echoing in my chest.

Thank you for making the wait less than I thought.

He wanted this. And I gave it to him. That’s something I can’t get over.

I slide out from under the blanket Dante wrapped around me—too soft, too warm—and pad across the floor. Bodies are tucked into corners, rebels curled under coats and bedrolls. Some snore. Some twitch. All breathing. Still alive.

Because of me?

Or despite me?

My bare feet make no sound on the old wood. I brush a hand over the warded door. It pulses faintly—his magic layered over mine. It resists, but I know the backways through it. I’ve always known how to slip between cracks. That’s what fae do best.

The wards part like mist, and the dawn hits me full in the face as I step outside.

Cool air. Gold-pink sky. It should feel like peace but instead it feels like goodbye.

I know I promised I wouldn’t run again, but I can’t submit so many to my destruction. I can’t control it, so why should they follow a faithless leader who is more rage than courage.

But I don’t get far.

Two steps past the line of protective runes and a voice slices through the quiet like a blade wrapped in velvet.

“Going somewhere?”

I flinch. Turn. And he’s there.

Dante.

Leaning against the porch post like he knew. And maybe he did. Of course he did. He always does when it comes to me.

I square my shoulders, try to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” he says. “The wards did.”

“Right.” My lips twist. “Guess I’m losing my touch.”

“Losing your mind, more like.”

His words are soft, but the steel beneath them is sharp.

I look away. “I’m doing what I have to.”

“No,” he says. “You’re doing what you think you deserve.”

The truth of his words hit harder than I expect.

“I can’t be here when it happens again,” I say, staring out at the woods. “Not when the next time might be worse.”

He steps forward, boots crunching in the frostbitten grass. “You mean when you lose control.”

I nod.

“You mean when you become what he’s been trying to make you.”

Another nod.

He’s closer now. I can feel the heat of him, steady and real and grounding —the only anchor I’ve had in weeks.

“I’m sealing myself in the underworld.”

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just breathes.

Then, quietly: “You’ll die down there.”

“Maybe.” I lift my chin. “But at least I won’t kill anyone else.”

His voice drops, rough as gravel. “That’s not your choice to make alone.”

“It’s mine if I’m the one with a world-ending trigger under my skin.”

His hands curl into fists. “You think I care about that?”

“You should. ”

“I do,” he growls. “I care about everything you are. Light, shadow, starborn fury—I want all of it.”

I blink. “Even if it kills you?”

“If it kills me, I die loving you.”

Gods. I can’t breathe.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I whisper.

“I do,” he says, stepping closer until we’re toe-to-toe. “I’ve seen what you did in New Orleans. I went last night to see what you did to the forest. I still want you.”

My hands tremble. “I’m not safe.”

“Neither am I.”

A silence falls between us—loud and aching and so full of everything we can’t take back.

“I killed Thorne,” I whisper. “Maybe not with my hands. But with what I am. I’m the reason he’s dead.”

Dante lifts his hand, brushes hair from my face like I’m something delicate. “You didn’t kill Thorne. Seraphiel did.”

“I let him,” I snap. “I led him right to him and that’s all it took. He knew I was seeking his guidance. If I hadn’t had gone–”

“No.” His voice is fire now. “You’re the one who can end this. That’s why he wants you. That’s why you scare the fucking stars.”

I choke on a laugh. “You’re insane.”

“For you?” he grins, soft and broken and too beautiful. “Completely.”

I look up at him, every wall I’ve built around myself cracking.

He touches my cheek, leans in close.

“You’re not sealing yourself away,” he says. “You’re not running. You’re staying here. With me. With us. We’ll train. We’ll fight. We’ll win. We can work on control, you wielding what you are in a way to make things right. That’s what you can do for Thorne.”

“And if I break again?”

“Then I’ll catch you and help put you back together.”

I stare at him for a long moment. Then I collapse into his arms as he pulls me into a kiss that’s mixed with salty tears of fear and possibility.