Page 33

Archer

I couldn't tear my eyes away from Lightsbane as it dissolved into shadow. My mind raced with recognition, a memory surfacing like a drowning man gasping for air. The sword, those runes, that distinctive curve near the hilt, I'd seen it before. Not just anywhere, but in the book my mother gave me.

The pages of that ancient tome flashed through my mind: detailed illustrations in faded ink showing a weapon that could exist in both light and darkness.

There were subtle differences between what Callum wielded and what my mother had drawn, but in my soul, I knew it was the same blade.

Or maybe it was similar? The very weapon the prophecy said would banish the Shadow Beast permanently.

"Archer?" Rowen's voice cut through my thoughts, his obsidian eyes narrowed with concern. "You've gone pale."

I swallowed hard, my daggers suddenly heavy in their hidden sheaths against my forearms. "I'm fine," I lied, the words sticking in my throat. "Just processing everything."

Rowen's tail twitched. The telltale sign he knew I wasn't being truthful. His gaze lingered on me for a beat too long before he turned to Sierra, who still trembled slightly despite being sandwiched between warm bodies.

"We all need to recover," he declared, rising from the bed in one fluid motion. His naked form commanded the space, shoulders squared as though already preparing for the next battle. "Food first, then we plan."

Sierra nodded, her silver hair falling in tangled waves around her face. "I'm starving," she admitted, looking exhausted but alive. So alive. The power that had radiated from her in the shadow realm was muted now, but I could still sense it humming beneath her skin.

Callum stood, offering his hand to Sierra. "Come on, little witch. I make excellent pancakes."

Her laugh was weak but genuine. "Pancakes? Somehow I didn't picture the Fae king as a breakfast chef."

"I contain a multitude of talents, remember?" Callum replied with a wink, drawing her to her feet.

We all dressed in silence, the weight of what had happened, of what was still to come, pressing down on us. I pulled on my pants mechanically, my thoughts far away, buried in the pages of my mother's book. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough time to read it yet.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. This wasn't the time to lose myself in ancient tombs. Not yet. Not until I was certain of what I saw.

"Are you coming?" Rowen asked, pausing at the door. The others had already started down the hallway, but he'd lingered, watching me with that penetrating gaze that seemed to strip away pretenses.

"Yeah." I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Just need a minute."

His tail twitched again. "Whatever's bothering you—" he began.

"After breakfast," I cut him off. "I'll explain everything after we eat."

He held my gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Don't keep secrets that could endanger her, angel," he warned, using the nickname that was half endearment, half reminder of what I was.

"I won't," I promised, and meant it. I would never do anything to put Sierra at risk. She was our omega, yes, but more than that. She was becoming essential in a way that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.

The kitchen was already filled with domestic chaos when we arrived.

Callum had apparently decided that cooking was the perfect opportunity to distract Sierra from their shared ordeal.

He stood behind her at the counter, supposedly showing her how to fold batter, but his lips kept finding the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"You're not helping," she protested weakly, tilting her head to give him better access even as she complained.

"I'm improving the experience," he countered, one hand splayed possessively across her stomach while the other reached for the whipped cream.

Before she could react, he'd dabbed a small dot on the tip of her nose. "Perfect," he declared, grinning as she gasped in mock outrage.

"You did not just—" She didn't finish as he leaned in to kiss it away, his tongue darting out to lick the sweetness from her skin.

Their laughter echoed in the spacious kitchen, a bright counterpoint to the darkness they'd faced together.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a mixture of affection and dread.

Callum was deliberately lightening the mood, helping Sierra process the trauma of the shadow realm through touch and playfulness.

It was working—the haunted look was gradually fading from her eyes with each kiss, each caress.

Rowen moved past me, squeezing my shoulder briefly before joining the others. He slid behind Sierra, trapping her between himself and Callum, and pressed his lips to the crown of her head.

"Are we making breakfast or recreating last night?" he asked dryly, though his hands belied his tone as they settled possessively on her hips.

"Both," Callum replied without missing a beat, reaching around Sierra to smear a dollop of whipped cream across Rowen's cheek.

The demon king's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing dangerously. "Bold move for someone in my kitchen," he growled, but there was no real anger in it.

Sierra laughed, the sound bright and genuine, as she watched them. Her eyes caught mine across the room, and she extended a hand. "Come help me," she pleaded dramatically. "I'm outnumbered by testosterone and terrible cooking advice."

I pushed away from the doorframe, forcing a smile. "Coming to the rescue," I replied, the words lighter than the weight in my chest.

As I approached, Callum winked at me, then dotted Sierra's collarbone with whipped cream. "Archer, I think I missed a spot. Care to help?"

The invitation in his eyes was clear, the playfulness infectious despite my troubled thoughts. I bent down, pressing my lips to Sierra's skin, tasting sweetness and the salt of her flesh. Her breath caught as my tongue cleaned away the cream, her hand coming up to tangle in my hair.

"You're all terrible distractions," she murmured, but the color rising in her cheeks told a different story.

For a while, I lost myself in the moment.

In the simple pleasure of four bodies moving in a cramped kitchen, in stolen kisses and playful touches.

Pancake batter splashed onto countertops, berries were eaten directly from the container, and Callum demonstrated an impressive ability to flip pancakes that had Sierra clapping like a child at a show.

But through it all, the knowledge of what I'd recognized, what I needed to tell them, sat heavy in my gut.

I caught myself staring at Callum's hands, wondering if he knew what he truly possessed in Lightsbane.

Wondering if he understood the price the prophecy demanded for using it against the Shadow Beast. Damn it, I needed to get back to studying that book.

One of dual blood must sacrifice what they hold most dear...

The words of the prophecy ran through my head, haunting me.

"Earth to Archer," Sierra's voice broke through my thoughts. She stood before me with her head tilted in concern. "You've been stirring that batter into submission for five minutes. It's definitely mixed."

I blinked down at the bowl in my hands, not remembering when I'd taken it from her. "Sorry," I muttered. "Distracted."

Her fingers brushed mine as she took the bowl. "Is it about what happened? In the shadow realm?"

"In a way," I admitted, keeping my voice low though I knew both Callum and Rowen had excellent hearing. They were arguing over proper pancake-to-syrup ratios at the stove, but I had no doubt they were monitoring our conversation.

Sierra's eyes, intelligent and far too perceptive, studied my face. "You recognized something," she said simply. Not a question.

I nodded, unable to lie to her. "After we eat," I promised, echoing what I'd told Rowen. "I'll explain everything then."

She held my gaze for a long moment, then leaned up to press a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Okay," she agreed. "But no more stirring that batter like you're trying to drown it."

I managed a genuine laugh at that, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "Yes, ma'am."

As we settled around the table with heaping plates of pancakes, fresh fruit, and enough syrup to send us all into sugar comas, I watched the three of them interact.

Rowen, regal even in casual clothes, his tail occasionally brushing against Sierra's leg beneath the table.

Callum, centuries old but bright with mischief as he stole berries from Sierra's plate.

And Sierra herself, her silver hair twisted into a messy bun, looking both vulnerable and powerful in the morning light.

The burden of knowledge pressed down on me. Knowing what we faced. Knowing what the prophecy demanded. Knowing that to save our omega and our world, terrible sacrifices would be required. But watching them laugh together, seeing the bonds forming between all of us, I made a silent vow.

I would do what was right to save Sierra, to protect what we were building together. Whatever the cost.