Page 19

Chapter 19

L ila

My body feels hollowed out, scraped raw. The aftermath of the Shard extraction lingers in the trembling of my hands and the metallic taste coating my tongue. Blood magic always leaves its mark. It never gets easier.

I press my palms against closed eyelids, seeing firework bursts of color behind them. My room is silent. For once, it feels like a sanctuary; the silence blanketing me feels blissful after the battering of the past few days. They’ve left me alone for now. Small mercies.

My daughter is out there. Alive. That knowledge pulses like a second heartbeat beneath my exhaustion.

Elena.

The thought of her should wrack my heart again, but for some reason, it doesn’t. Instead of the searing terror I’ve felt since I learned she was taken, I’m at peace. It’s a completely unfamiliar sensation, and I feel my lips curling up.

I’m smiling. I’m freaking smiling!

I’m still smiling when the images come to me. The vision starts differently this time. Not as pain or invasion but as warmth spreading through my chest. It flows outward along my limbs, gentle yet more powerful than anything I’ve felt since my capture.

I relax into it, surrendering to the current of images that wash over me.

Elena stands in a circular chamber, surrounded by amber light that pulses like a living heartbeat. The Heartstone—not the fragment I’ve touched but the whole, crimson fire imprisoned in crystal—hovers before her. Her hands cradle it, power trickling from her palms onto its facets. Her face shows equal parts fear and wonder as power flows between them, witch and artifact recognizing each other across centuries of separation.

Behind her stands Caleb Craven, scales rippling across his skin, gleaming beneath the moonlight. His stance is protective, dragon instincts recognizing the mate bond forming between them, though he struggles to comprehend it. Rossewyn witch, dragon protector. History repeating itself in ways neither of them understands.

The vision shifts, showing a woman I don’t recognize rising from ash and flame. Not consumed, but transformed. Reborn. Her emergence sends ripples through the magical world, awakening things long dormant.

Then Allard. But not Allard, not the security chief I’ve come to know. The man beneath the mask, his true purpose crystallizing in my mind. He stands among others, people I don’t recognize, in a place I’ve never seen. They speak of infiltration, of extraction, of resistance against the Syndicate.

He’s here to help me. To free me. My instincts about him were right.

The vision expands outward, showing change sweeping around the world. Not specific events, but the sensation of foundations shifting, of old orders crumbling and new ones taking their place. Great transformation coming, inevitable as the tide.

I open my eyes, breathing deeply as reality reasserts itself. This vision didn’t come through extraction equipment or the Shard. It came from within. From some well of power I’d forgotten existed. Raw, unfiltered, and more immediate than anything I’ve experienced since my capture.

My power is returning.

The realization sends a jolt of hope through me, wild and dangerous. I test it cautiously, reaching for that spark inside that the Syndicate has spent years smothering. It responds. Weak but present, an ember where there was once a bonfire.

The change I’ve felt coming… It’s here. It’s touching me.

The door slides open. I sit up and compose my features into the blank mask I’ve perfected, hiding triumph behind exhaustion.

Creed enters, Emerson close behind. His face is thunder, scales visible beneath his skin, control slipping after whatever happened since I last saw him.

“You knew,” he spits, stalking toward where I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. “You knew, and you didn’t tell us.”

“Knew what?” I keep my voice flat, uninterested, though I feel my pulse ramp up.

“The witch—your daughter—connected with the Heartstone.” Rage makes his voice tremble. “She’s controlling it. Using it against us.”

A fierce pride swells in my chest. My daughter. My blood. Standing against creatures that would use her.

“Sounds like you failed,” I say, unable to resist the small victory. “Seems to be happening a lot lately.”

The slap comes out of nowhere, sending stars bursting behind my eyelids. I smile, regardless.

“Joke while you can, witch.” He leans closer, breath hot against my stinging cheek. “Your daughter may have the Stone, but we have something she’ll want.”

“Me.” I laugh, the sound harsh and hollow. “You think she even knows I exist? After all this time?”

“She will. And she’ll trade the Heartstone to keep you alive.”

The air suddenly feels too thick to breathe. “She won’t.”

“She will if she’s anything like you. Sentimental, weak when it comes to family.” He straightens, adjusting his cuffs with mechanical precision. “The extraction team is already prepping for your transfer to the Seattle facility.”

“You’re taking me to her?” Dread and hope war in my chest. “You’ll never make it past the Cravens.”

“We have our methods.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And if not, well… You’ve served your purpose. Perhaps your death will be more useful than your life.”

The threat lands exactly as intended—like a blade between my ribs. But beneath the fear, something else stirs. That ember of power, responding to my anger, my desperation.

“You’ve always underestimated me,” I say quietly.

“Have I? Years in this facility suggests otherwise.”

“Years of me letting you think you had control.” The words are brazen, but I don’t care.

He laughs, the sound genuinely amused. “Delusions? Now? After all this time?”

I feel the power building inside me, responding to my need. The dampening field around the room seems weaker somehow, strained by the upheaval of the last twenty-four hours, perhaps. Or maybe I’m stronger now, fueled by knowledge of my daughter’s freedom, by the vision’s clarity.

“Not delusions.” I lift my chin, meeting his gaze directly. “Patience.”

I reach for that ember, coaxing it to flame. Years of captivity, of extraction, of violation… all of it channels into this moment.

“Patience?” He leans closer… mistake. “While you rotted in this cell? While your daughter grew up alone? That’s not patience, witch. That’s defeat.”

I’m on my feet in an instant. Before he can react, my hand shoots up, fingers closing around his throat.

“ This is power.”

Magic pulses from my palm. Not the controlled flow of extraction but raw energy that’s been building somewhere deep inside. Creed flies backward, slamming into the wall hard enough to crack plaster. His eyes widen in genuine shock as he slides to the floor.

Emerson scrambles for the alarm, but I’m faster. Another pulse of magic knocks her sideways, sending her crashing into a nearby chair.

For one glorious moment, I’m free. Unrestrained, enemies scattered, power flowing through veins that have been parched for too long.

Then reality reasserts itself. Alarms blare throughout the facility. My legs, weak from extraction and captivity, buckle beneath me when I try to stand. The magic drains as quickly as it came, leaving me emptier than before.

Guards pour through the door, weapons drawn. I’m wrestled back onto the bed, restraints locked around limbs too weak to resist. A needle plunges into my neck, cold spreading through my blood.

Through narrowing vision, I see Creed regain his feet, fury and fear warring on his face.

“Full isolation,” he orders, voice rough. “Maximum security protocols. No contact except authorized personnel.”

“She shouldn’t have been able to access magic,” Emerson says, voice shaking. “The dampening fields—”

“Clearly aren’t working.” Creed straightens his jacket, eyes never leaving mine. “Secure her in the null room until transfer. Triple the guards. And find me her handler—Cole. I want to know how this happened.”

Hargen. They’ll hurt him. Because of me.

I try to speak, to warn them away from him, but the sedative drags me under. As darkness closes in, I cling to the afterimage of my vision. Elena, alive and powerful. The woman rising from ashes. Allard—or whoever he truly is—working against the Syndicate.

And me, accessing magic that should be impossible within these walls.

Something has changed. The balance shifts.

My daughter is safe with the Cravens. I can feel it in my bones. And my power, dormant for so long, stirs like a waking beast.

Even through the darkness, I feel something dangerous take root inside me.

Hope.