Page 53

Callum

I stood frozen, my eyes fixed on Sierra's face as she jolted awake. Her silver hair was tangled around her shoulders, her eyes wide with shock and revelation. For terrifying moments before she woke, she'd been completely unresponsive—like she'd slipped beyond our reach into some other realm.

"I know why I can read the angelic language now," she gasped, sitting up with effort. "I know what I am."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Her voice had a strange quality to it, as if she'd traveled a great distance to speak these words.

"What do you mean?" I asked, kneeling beside the bed. "Sierra, what happened?"

She looked at each of us in turn, her gaze moving from me to Archer, then settling on Rowen. Her pupils were dilated, making her eyes appear almost black in the dim light of our chambers.

"Azrael," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Azrael is my grandfather."

The words hung in the air like smoke. I felt my body go rigid with shock, my mind racing to process what she'd just revealed.

"Are you certain?" Archer asked, his voice tight.

Sierra nodded, pushing herself up further against the headboard.

"I saw him in a dream. No, not a regular dream.

He called it a dream-state. Something that bridges realms." Her hands trembled slightly as she pushed her silver hair back from her face.

"He has the same hair as mine. The same exact shade.

And his eyes—they're so blue they're almost colorless. "

"Fuck me," Rowen growled, his obsidian eyes widening. His tail began to twitch violently behind him, a sure sign of agitation.

Archer remained completely silent, his ice-blue eyes focused intensely on Sierra, his expression unreadable. I could practically see his mind working, connecting dots, reassessing everything we thought we knew.

I couldn't stand the distance between us any longer.

Moving to the couch beside the bed, I sat down and gathered Sierra into my arms, pulling her onto my lap.

She came willingly, her smaller body fitting perfectly against mine.

I breathed in her scent, honey, jasmine, and something wilder, more electric now—and tried to steady myself.

"Tell us everything," I urged, my voice rough with emotion. "Don't leave anything out."

As Sierra spoke—describing the garden, the stone bench, Azrael's revelation and warnings—I felt my control slipping.

The shadows that lived at my command began to respond to my tumultuous emotions, curling around Sierra and me like protective tentacles.

They twisted and coiled in the air, deepening the darkness in corners of the room, manifesting my inner turmoil.

I didn't try to rein them in. Let them show what I felt—this mixture of fear, protectiveness, and something deeper I couldn't quite name. I tightened my arms around Sierra, one hand stroking her silver hair—silver like her grandfather's. How had we not seen it before?

When she mentioned her true heat would come on her twenty-ninth birthday, just ten days away, I felt my blood run cold. The implications struck me like a physical blow.

Sierra finished speaking, her body soft but tense against mine. The room fell into silence, broken only by the sound of our breathing and the subtle crackling as my shadows twisted through the air.

Finally, Archer took a step forward, his eyes blazing with sudden understanding.

"It's you," he said, his voice ragged with revelation. "Not me." He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "All this time, I thought I was the key to forging Lightbringer. But it's not me, it's you, Sierra."

Rowen's head snapped toward him. "Explain."

"The ancient text," Archer continued, his words coming faster now. "'When shadow meets starlight, when heaven's blood mingles with earth's essence, the true nature shall be revealed.' It's not talking about my angel blood—it's talking about Sierra's. She's the heaven's blood. She's the key."

Sierra looked up at Archer, her eyes soft with something like sympathy. "I met your mother," she said quietly. "Lianna. She was there too, with Azrael. She's... she's lovely, Archer. Her eyes are just like yours."

Archer's expression faltered, raw emotion breaking through his usual controlled facade. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, Sierra suddenly doubled over in my lap, a pained cry escaping her lips.

"Fuck!" she gasped, curling in on herself. "Oh god. That one was bad."

I held her tighter, my shadows responding instantly, wrapping around her like a protective cocoon. I stroked her hair back from her face, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

"I've got you," I murmured, keeping my voice steady despite the panic rising in my chest. "Breathe through it. We're all here."

Rowen and Archer moved closer immediately, both radiating concern. Rowen's tail was now completely still, a sign of his intense focus. Archer's hand hovered over Sierra's back, uncertain whether his touch would help or hurt.

"It's getting worse," Sierra said through gritted teeth as the cramp began to subside. She leaned heavily against my chest, her forehead slick with sweat. "The dream, what Azrael and Lianna told me, it makes sense now. These aren't just regular cramps."

She looked up at all three of us, her eyes wide and slightly fearful. "What we experienced before, when we first met... that wasn't my true primal heat. It was just a... a preview. The real one is coming, when I turn twenty-nine. In ten days."

"Fuck," Archer cursed, running a hand through his dark hair.

His usual composure had completely crumbled.

"Of course. Angels hit their maturity on their twenty-ninth birthday.

It's when their powers fully manifest." He looked at Sierra with new understanding.

"If you're quarter angel, especially through the bloodline of someone as powerful as Azrael. .."

"It's going to be bad, isn't it?" Sierra asked quietly.

I tightened my hold on her, my shadows pulsing around us both in response to my surging protectiveness.

"Your primal heat is coming," Archer confirmed, his voice grave. "And it's coming hard."