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Alaric

Outside The Eyrie

I am elbow-deep in magic, forging stone and steel from will and air, the ancient language of my blood echoing beneath my breath.

Sweat traces lines down my back, heat radiating from the effort of holding so many spells at once.

Beside me, Dagan and Kael shape the walls with precision and grim focus. This temporary structure— part infirmary, part prison —rises from the scorched earth like a scar we’ve etched into the aftermath.

Thorne stalks the perimeter, his fire magic flaring in warning as he reinforces the bindings on the SoulTakers’ remnants.

I call them prisoners, but the word tastes bitter.

Many of these poor bastards were once our own. Bewitched, bespelled, broken in ways that make my stomach twist.

Gods. That they got this close?

That I didn’t see it coming?

That this war touched her doorstep while I stood blind?

It enrages me.

These SoulTakers didn’t just break through our defenses—they wore the faces of people we once trusted.

Warriors we fought beside. Neighbors. Friends. Beasts twisted by darkness, wielding magics not meant for this realm.

We cannot release them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But neither will I leave them to rot in pain. I owe them more than silence.

So we build.

We plan.

We bleed for order.

With a sweep of my arm, I summon the winds to carry word to the North, calling on alchemists, soul-healers, the last of the rune-callers hidden deep in the frost bound ridges.

We will need all of them if we’re to save what’s left of the ones ensnared by the SoulTakers’ black magic.

This— this is penance .

This is duty.

And still, it feels hollow.

The role of Lord has always demanded sacrifice, but lately I wonder if seeking the title of Prime is not ambition, but madness.

What good is a crown if it can’t protect the heart it beats for?

Because now I have her.

Jules.

My Myrrin. My mate. My viyella.

And everything else dims in comparison.

I pause, just for a breath. Just long enough to feel it.

The mate bond—the zareth.

A sudden, crushing squeeze wraps around my chest—tight, visceral, unmistakable.

Pain.

Fear.

Terror.

Not mine. Hers.

“Alaric?” Kael’s voice cuts through the noise, alert and sharp. “What is it?”

I turn, heart already thundering.

“It’s Jules,” I say, already moving. “Something’s wrong.”

And gods help anyone who stands in my way.

Pain lances through me— sharp, hot, primal.

My head jerks up, eyes wide.

Kael is at my side in an instant, his mist-dampened hand gripping my shoulder.

No more words.

I’m already moving, the zareth burning in my veins like a flare guiding me home.

I race through the shattered remnants of the keep’s eastern archway, the halls echoing with the chaos still settling from battle.

Faster.

The bond pulls me like gravity, and I round the last corner just in time to see her.

Myrrin.

My whole heart.

She’s standing in front of the children, brave and determined, but not armed for fighting whatever this sick magic is that is pulsating in the air.

My eyes widen. She is facing Dauphiné. And fuck, there is something wrong with her.

The noblewoman glows with sickening dark light.

Around Dauphiné’s neck pulses a locket, grotesque with power, veins of shadow crawling across her throat.

And then, before I can do anything, Jules moves.

She doesn’t hesitate.

Doesn’t falter.

She lunges forward— beautiful, fierce, and so fucking breakable it guts me to see her like this —and she plunges her blade into Dauphiné’s cursed locket with a cry that shatters something inside me.

“No!” I roar, the sound tearing from my throat like a wounded beast.

I see it all—see what’s happening before it fully unfolds.

The locket shrieks, magic fracturing outward, blood spilling from it like it’s a living thing.

Blades hanging in the air above the children begin to tremble, to fall.

Jules moves, using her body to shield the children.

And I roar my fear and fury.

“Myrrin!”

A wall of wind answers my call as I scream her name, my hands carving ancient runes into the air, the breath of the North rising to obey.

“GO! NOW!” I bellow at the elements, the air exploding forward.

Steel is snatched mid-descent.

Blades deflected.

And time itself stutters just long enough.

I reach her as she collapses, her arms outstretched, cradling as much of the children’s small, slumbering bodies beneath her own as she can.

Her blade lies shattered at her side.

The scent of blood and scorched magic hangs in the air like smoke after a fire.

I stopped the knives from hitting her.

All but one.

It fell too fast, too sharp—struck the edge of her armor and glanced off, slicing a thin red line along her jaw.

Just a scratch.

Just a breath of pain.

But it shatters something inside me.

My knees hit the stone beside her.

The world narrows to her heartbeat.

Her breath.

A smear of crimson streaks her skin, and I wipe it away with shaking fingers, my hand cradling the fragile strength of her face.

My palm trembles.

Thank the gods, she’s breathing.

“Jules,” I whisper, my voice cracked glass, all the fury and fear I’ve kept buried rising like floodwater.

Behind me, I hear the chaos still unraveling—Kael, Thorne, and Dagan tearing through the wreckage, dispelling what remains of Dauphiné’s black enchantment.

Shade moves like a shadow at my side, her hands gentle as she leads the children away, each one waking slowly, confused and frightened but safe.

And all I can do is kneel here and hold her.

I kiss her cheek, her chin, her brow— reverent, desperate.

“Alaric?” she breathes, stirring faintly, lashes fluttering like wings.

Her voice is soft, bewildered. Alive.

“You foolish, fearless woman,” I choke, wrapping her tighter against my chest, my body curling around hers like a shield. “You were supposed to wait for me. I told you I’d come.”

She blinks up at me, dazed, her lips curving with quiet defiance.

“You’re here now,” she whispers, echoing the words she gave me earlier.

And just like that, I almost fall apart.

I almost unravel entirely.

Because I almost lost her. And I will never be whole again if I do.

I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in, shaking with too many things— grief, gratitude, rage, and overwhelming love.

“I’m here now,” I vow, my voice raw and ragged.

“And I’m never leaving your side again. Not for anything. Not for crowns. Not for war. Not for the gods themselves.”

She is my heart.

My viyella.

The fire in my blood and the calm in my storm.

And the only reason I still believe this realm— this fractured, cursed place of war and loss —is worth saving.

I clutch her tighter, needing the warmth of her skin, the rhythm of her breath, just to stay grounded.

“Tell me you won’t leave me,” I whisper against her temple. “Say you’ll stay right here, where you belong. With me.”

My voice breaks on the last words, the ache behind them too old, too deep, to fully name.

For a long moment, she doesn’t speak.

She watches me with eyes like tempered silver—steady, unflinching, the gaze of a woman who’s walked through hellfire and stood tall on the other side.

And then, quietly, but with steel in her tone, she says,

“First, tell me the truth. About how you picked me. About why me, Alaric.”

My throat constricts.

I know what she’s asking.

And I know what I stand to lose if I get this wrong.

But I won’t lie. Not to her. Not now.

So I loosen my grip, just enough to meet her gaze, and nod slowly.

“I won’t insult you with silence,” I say hoarsely. “You deserve all of it. Every arrogant, terrible inch of the truth.”

She presses against me again, but this time, she’s not retreating—she’s anchoring me.

She places a hand over my chest, right where the zareth bond burns beneath my skin, and her fingers curl into the fabric of my tunic.

“That’s all I want, Alaric. The truth.”

I rise with her as she leans into me, standing on shaking legs. I hold her steady.

Because that’s what we do now— stand together.

“Okay, Myrrin,” I murmur, her name a vow. “I will tell you it all. I will tell you everything. About us.”

Her lips press together. Her eyes shimmer— with tears, with power, with clarity.

And in that breath between heartbeats, I know I would kneel before her, surrender every crown and every battlefield if she asked.

Because she isn’t just my fated.

She is my redemption.

And she has every right to break me.