Page 44

Finn

The bond snaps into place like a lock turning.

I feel it from across camp, where I’ve been pretending to check the perimeter while actually avoiding the lake. The sensation is familiar now—I’ve felt it before when Aspen and Kaia came together, that sudden click of completion, like puzzle pieces finally finding their fit.

This time, it cuts.

My knees hit the ground before I can stop them, chaos magic sparking wild around my fingers as the realization crashes over me. It’s Malrik. Of course it’s fucking Malrik. I should have seen this coming. Should have prepared for it.

But knowing something’s going to hurt doesn’t make the blade any less sharp when it finally finds your ribs.

The bond settles between them with a finality that makes my chest hollow out. I can feel it through my connection to Kaia—not the details, thank every god in existence, but the certainty . The way her magic has shifted, aligned, found its anchor in someone who isn’t me.

“Shit,” I breathe, pressing my palms against my eyes. “Shit, shit, shit. ”

My chaos magic responds to the spike of emotion, painting the air around me in streaks of color that die as quickly as they form. Even my power doesn’t know what to do with this particular brand of devastation.

I should stay here. Should give them privacy, space, whatever the hell people need after they’ve just locked their souls together for eternity.

Instead, I find myself walking toward the lake.

Because I’m an idiot. Because I apparently enjoy pain. Because some masochistic part of me needs to see what I’ve lost with my own eyes.

The water comes into view through the trees, moonlight turning the surface to liquid silver. At first I don’t see them—just the gentle lap of waves against the shore, the soft glow of moss drifting across the water like fallen stars.

Then I spot them.

Kaia curled against Malrik’s chest in the shallows, her hair dark with water, shadows drifting peacefully around them like they’re singing lullabies.

His arms circle her protectively, chin resting on top of her head.

Even from here I can see the way she melts into him, boneless and trusting in a way that stops my breath.

She never looked that peaceful with me.

The thought hits like a sucker punch, and I have to grip the nearest tree to stay upright. I turn to leave before I can witness any more of their happiness, but my boot snaps a branch. The sound echoes across the water like a gunshot.

Malrik’s head lifts, silver eyes finding mine through the darkness. For a heartbeat we just stare at each other, and I see something flicker across his face—not guilt, exactly, but understanding. He knows what this costs me.

“Didn’t mean to crash the celebration,” I mutter, forcing my usual grin even though it feels like it might split my face in half.

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. We both know I’m the one who walked away.

I stumble back through the trees, chaos magic sparking erratically around me like my power’s having its own breakdown. My feet carry me to the far edge of camp, away from everyone, away from the bonds I can feel humming with contentment that isn’t mine.

I sink onto a fallen log, pressing my face into my hands.

“Well,” I tell the empty air, “that’s just fucking perfect.”

Bob drifts out of the shadows nearby, hovering at a respectful distance. His usually militant posture has softened into something that looks suspiciously like sympathy. Even Kaia’s shadows feel sorry for me now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn him, but there’s no heat in it. “I knew this was coming. We all did.”

Bob flickers once—gentle, understanding—then settles into a loose guard position. Not abandoning me, but not crowding either. Somehow that makes it worse.

Because this is what I do, isn’t it? Create something beautiful and then run scared when it becomes real.

The memories come in a rush, sharp and merciless:

Standing in Malrik’s room back at the academy telling them both exactly how I felt. “I have feelings for both of you. And I’m pretty sure you both feel the same way about me.”

Pushing them to stop pretending, to acknowledge what we all knew was happening between us.

“I’m proposing we stop fighting this. All of this.”

The way Kaia had pulled me close, kissed me like I was everything she’d been waiting for.

How perfect it felt, the three of us tangled together, like we’d finally found the missing pieces of ourselves.

But what did I do after I built that beautiful thing? Ran scared the moment it became real. Started pulling away after Kaia and Aspen bonded, because watching her connect with someone else—even though I’d pushed for it—felt like swallowing glass.

“I created this,” I whisper to the darkness, my voice cracking on the words. “I brought us all together, and then I fucking ran when it mattered.”

The chaos magic around me flares brighter, responding to the rawness in my chest.

“I’m the one who made it happen, and now I’m just… watching it happen without me.”

A sob breaks free before I can stop it, followed by another. My shoulders shake as months of self-sabotage finally tear free.

“I pushed for all of us, and then I couldn’t handle it when they actually chose each other.”

The words hang in the air like an accusation. Against her, against them, against myself for being too much of a coward to stay and fight for what I’d helped create.

“You’re not sulking, are you?”

I jolt upright, chaos magic scattering like startled birds. Aspen stands at the edge of the clearing, ice-blue eyes taking in my disheveled state with characteristic directness .

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I lie, swiping at my face. “Just enjoying some quality alone time. You know, communing with nature and all that philosophical shit.”

He doesn’t buy it for a second. Just walks over and settles beside me on the log, close enough that I can feel the cool air that perpetually surrounds him.

“You’ve been avoiding her,” he says quietly.

The words hit like a physical blow because they’re true. Every single one.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Since our bond locked.” His voice is matter-of-fact, no judgment in it. “You’ve been finding excuses to be anywhere she isn’t.”

I open my mouth to deny it, then close it again. Because he’s right, and I hate him for it.

“You want to know why?” The words tear out of me before I can stop them. “Because watching her, feeling her bond with you—with anyone—hurts like hell, even though I’m the one who pushed for all of this.”

Aspen is quiet, waiting.

“I brought us all together. Me, her, Malrik. I made it happen because I could see what we all wanted but were too scared to reach for.” My voice cracks. “And then the moment it became real, the moment she started bonding with people, I panicked and started pulling away.”

“Because you were jealous?”

“Because I was terrified.” I drag my hands through my hair. “What if I created something beautiful and then discovered I don’t actually belong in it? What if the bond between me and her isn’t as strong as what she has with you, or Malrik, or any of the others? ”

Aspen considers this. “So instead of finding out, you decided to prove yourself right by disappearing?”

The quiet observation hits harder than any accusation could. “Pretty fucking stupid, right?”

“Understandable,” he says instead. “But stupid, yes.”

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of my confession settling between us.

“She’s been looking for you, you know,” Aspen says finally. “Asking where you are, why you seem different. Her shadows drift toward the places you used to be.”

My heart stutters. “They do?”

“Bob’s been particularly agitated. Keeps trying to herd people toward wherever you’ve gone.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Patricia’s notes have gotten increasingly frantic too.”

Despite everything, I feel my mouth twitch. “Even her shadows are calling me out for being an idiot.”

“They know what she needs better than she does sometimes.” Aspen stands, brushing dirt from his pants. “The question is whether you’re going to keep running from what you helped create, or if you’re finally going to show up for it.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me alone with Bob and the echo of words that feel like absolution and damnation all at once.