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Chapter Twenty-Six

T he roots coiled tighter, pressing against me, rough bark scraping my skin, locking me in place. I gasped, lungs straining, mind spiraling. The tree was devouring me, pulling me down into itself, ancient power flooding through every cell, scorching, consuming. I didn’t feel like me anymore; I was something else—something boundless.

I could feel the heartbeat of Eyre throbbing through me, with me, as if it was my own. I saw the magic surging through invisible veins beneath the land, stretching to its limits, taut and frayed, each thread ready to snap. I felt the fae in the west, their darkness gnashing, pulling it toward them, straining it, tearing it. With everything I had, I pulled it back.

No. This land would not break.

I reached for the magic, clutching it in my hands like a hilt, forcing it to balance, to flow as it should. I could feel it pouring back into Eyre, filling every hidden crevice, winding through roots and rocks, sealing every fracture. I became the wild pulse of it all—the roar of the rivers, the rush of the sea, the trembling of the trees. Every inch of this land was inside me, every life, every breath. I was Eyre.

I was mage . Magic.

Time slipped away, dissolved, became something formless and meaningless. Seconds, hours, days, rings—they blurred and melted, stretching into a vast, endless now . I existed in every heartbeat, every whisper of the wind, everywhere, always.

Always.

The word awoke something in me.

There was something—no, some one —still pulling at me. A heartbeat, not my own, but still it was stable, familiar. A warmth, like a flame, bright and alive. I focused on it, on him , on the hum of magic that wrapped around him like a shield, protecting, preserving. I could feel his every movement through Eyre. Steady, strong, unyielding.

I could not place names here in this dark, eternal place, but I knew he had once matched my mortal soul like no other.

And he was mine .

My magic reached for him, brushing against his, feeling the heat of his presence, his life pulsing like a beacon. His heartbeat was a drum, constant and comforting, grounding me in the vastness. He became my anchor, the reminder of what I’d left behind.

I reached out, pouring promises into the space between us, silent, invisible. I would return. One day, I would step from this tree again, find him, hold him. He was where I had left my heart, and I knew—gods, I knew —I would come back for it.