Page 66

Sierra

I know what I need to do.

The realization settled over me as I lay in bed, surrounded by the warmth of my sleeping mates.

Callum's arm draped possessively across my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck.

Archer lay on my other side, his features softened in sleep, looking younger and less burdened than when awake.

Rowen's massive form completed our circle, one hand resting on my hip even in slumber.

I studied them in the dim light, memorizing every detail, the curve of Callum's lips, the fan of Archer's dark lashes against his cheeks, the powerful line of Rowen's jaw. My mates. My loves. My everything.

And that was why I had to do this.

The ancient text had been clear, though I hadn't told Archer when he shared his revelation with me.

It wasn't "dual blood" that the ritual required.

It was a true hybrid of species. Since I was now bonded to an angel, a demon, and a dark fae, mixed with the Archangel and witch blood flowing through my veins, I was the sacrifice the ritual demanded.

Not Archer. Me.

I'd suspected it since I first read the text, the words resonating in my soul with a truth I couldn't deny. But I'd kept silent, knowing they would never allow it if they knew. They would search for another way, waste precious time we didn't have, while the Shadow Beast grew stronger.

I carefully extracted myself from their embrace, moving with a silence born of necessity. None of them stirred. Exhausted from the days of my heat and the preparations for tomorrow's ritual. I padded barefoot to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me.

In the mirror, I barely recognized myself.

My silver hair gleamed in the dim light, my eyes holding a new depth, a new power that hadn't been there before my heat.

The claiming marks on my neck had healed into silvery scars that seemed to shimmer with an inner light.

I was changed, transformed by the bond we shared.

Which made what I had to do all the more painful.

I closed my eyes, centering myself as Gran had taught me. The power came easily now, flowing through me like a river that had finally found its true course. I reached for that place between waking and dreaming, that liminal space where worlds overlapped.

"Azrael," I whispered, sending the name not through the air but through the fabric of reality itself. "Grandfather. I need you."

The air shimmered, reality bending around me. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the bathroom but in the familiar garden where I'd first met my grandfather. The stone bench awaited me, bathed in eternal sunlight that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

I wasn't alone.

"Sierra." Azrael's voice was like distant thunder wrapped in silk. He stood before me, his silver wings, the same shade as my hair, spread majestically behind him. His eyes, so pale blue they appeared almost colorless, regarded me with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

"You know why I'm here," I said, not a question but a statement.

He nodded, his expression grave. "You've discovered the truth of the ritual."

"I'm the sacrifice it requires." The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but I forced them out anyway. "Not Archer's blood, not some mystical combination of powers. Me. My life."

Azrael stepped closer, his massive form somehow graceful despite its size. "Not necessarily your life, child. But yes, you are the vessel the ritual requires."

"What does that mean?" I asked, hope and dread warring within me. "If not my life, then what?"

"The ritual requires a conduit. A being who can channel the combined powers of angel, demon, and fae into the weapon." He gestured to the bench, and we both sat. "You are uniquely suited to this role, having bonded with all three species and carrying celestial blood yourself."

"But the text speaks of sacrifice," I pressed, needing to understand exactly what awaited me.

Azrael's wings shifted, catching the light in a display that would have been breathtaking under other circumstances. "All great magic requires sacrifice, Sierra. In this case, the sacrifice is not necessarily your life, but it may be... everything else."

Ice formed in my veins. "What does that mean?"

"The channeling of such power through a living vessel, even one with your unique heritage, will burn away much of what makes you who you are.

" His colorless eyes held mine, unflinching in their honesty.

"Your memories, your connection to your mates, perhaps even your powers.

The Sierra who emerges from the ritual may not be the same Sierra who enters it. "

The truth hit me like a physical blow. Losing my memories, my connection to Callum, Archer, and Rowen...

It was almost worse than death. To live on as a shell of myself, not recognizing the men I loved, not feeling the bond that had become as essential to me as breathing.

"There has to be another way," I whispered, though I knew there wasn't. I'd read the text myself, felt the truth of it resonating in my bones.

"If there were, child, I would tell you." Azrael's massive hand covered mine, his touch unexpectedly warm. "But the Shadow Beast grows stronger with each passing day. Soon, it will break through the barriers between realms completely, and nothing will stop it from consuming everything in its path."

I closed my eyes, feeling tears gather beneath my lids. "I can't tell them. They would never let me do it."

"No," Azrael agreed softly. "They would not. Their love for you is... formidable. Particularly for beings I once considered incapable of such emotion."

A watery laugh escaped me. "They're full of surprises."

"As are you, Granddaughter." There was such pride in his voice that it made my chest ache. "Few would have the courage to make this choice."

"Is there any chance?" I asked, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. "Any chance at all that I might... remember them? Remember myself?"

Azrael was silent for a long moment, considering. "There is always hope, Sierra. The bonds you've formed are unprecedented in their strength. It's possible they might serve as an anchor, something for you to find your way back to."

It wasn't much, but it was something to cling to. A sliver of possibility in the darkness.

"What do I need to do?" I asked, squaring my shoulders. "For the ritual. How do I make sure it works?"

"When the moment comes, you must place yourself between the weapon and the forge's fire," Azrael explained. "As the flames touch the blade, you must open yourself completely. Become a vessel for the combined powers of your mates. Let them flow through you, into the sword."

"And then?"

"And then the transformation will occur. Lightsbane will become Lightbringer, and you..." He trailed off, his ancient eyes filled with a sorrow that transcended time. "You will be forever changed."

I nodded, accepting the weight of my choice. "Will it defeat the Shadow Beast? Will it be enough?"

"With Lightbringer in the hands of one who knows how to wield it, yes." Azrael's certainty was comforting. "The Beast will be banished back to the void between worlds, unable to threaten this realm again for millennia."

"Good." I stood, feeling strangely calm now that my path was clear. "Then it's worth it."

Azrael rose as well, his massive form towering over me. "There is one more thing you should know, Sierra."

I looked up at him, waiting.

"The ritual will be most effective if performed at the exact moment of your birth, not just on your birthday. The alignment of celestial forces at that precise time will amplify the power channeled through you."

"4:17 a.m.," I said, remembering the time Gran had always told me I was born. "That's when we need to perform the ritual."

Azrael nodded. "Precisely."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. "Thank you, Grandfather. For everything."

He reached out, his massive hand gently cupping my cheek. "You honor our bloodline, Sierra. Know that whatever happens, I will be watching over you."

The garden began to fade around me, reality reasserting itself. Before it disappeared completely, I heard Azrael's voice one last time:

"Remember, granddaughter. Love is the strongest magic of all. Hold onto it, even when everything else is gone."

From the corner of my eye, I saw another figure standing there, at the edge of the tree line. Archer's mother, Lianna was standing there, and she heard everything Azrael had said to me. She lifted her finger to her lips, telling me quiet, just before the vision completely faded away.

I opened my eyes to find myself back in the bathroom, tears streaming down my face. I quickly wiped them away, splashing cold water on my cheeks to erase the evidence of my distress. I couldn't let them suspect anything was wrong.

As I slipped back into bed, Callum stirred slightly, his arm automatically reaching for me. I curled against him, breathing in his scent of pine and shadow, committing it to memory.

"Where'd you go?" he murmured sleepily, not fully awake.

"Just the bathroom," I whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Go back to sleep."

He hummed contentedly, pulling me closer. On my other side, Archer shifted to accommodate my return, his hand finding mine in the darkness. Rowen's large palm settled on my hip once more, his presence solid and reassuring.

I lay awake long after they had all fallen back asleep, memorizing the feeling of being surrounded by their love, protected and cherished. Tomorrow night, I would sacrifice everything to save them.

To save all the realms.

And maybe, just maybe, if love truly was the strongest magic of all, I would find my way back to them.

To remember.

To love them again.

It was a slim hope, but it was all I had.