Page 27

Kieran

The fire was nothing but a whisper now—just the faint crackle of coals and the low hiss of shifting wood. Afternoon sun filtered through the kitchen windows, streaking long golden lines across the floor like some soft promise we didn’t deserve.

Dahlia sat beside me, curled in the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her and a mug of tea cradled between her palms. She was tired—really tired—but alert, her gaze bouncing between the book in my lap and Henry’s slow pacing across the room.

Her presence kept me anchored. Her warmth reminded me the world hadn’t ended, no matter how it sometimes felt like it had.

The Hollow Veil rested on my knee, its spine creaking with every shift in weight.

We’d spent the better part of the last hour reading through it again, hoping some overlooked scrap might surface now that we had context.

But the pages remained stubborn. Whatever had been burned away by Jane’s spell was gone for good.

Silas, still unbound but under no illusions of trust, leaned against the wall near the front door, arms folded and expression unreadable.

He hadn’t said much since breakfast, and I liked it that way.

Dahlia’s laughter still echoed in my head from earlier.

So did the sound of my fist hitting his ribs.

Thea was gone. She’d taken her keys and vanished an hour ago, claiming she had “things to grab to help with training.” No explanation. No further details. Just a vague promise that if we touched her snack drawer, there’d be hell to pay.

“What kind of training things?” Dahlia had asked.

Thea had only smirked. “The kind that hurts and teaches you something. Or kills you. We’ll see.”

Now, in her absence, the silence had filled back in like a tide.

“I still don’t understand why she’d burn the pages,” Dahlia said quietly, her finger tracing the edge of her mug. “Why not just hide them?”

Henry sighed, settling into the armchair beside her. Sunny jumped up almost instantly, curling up in his lap like it was a designated throne.

“She didn’t just burn them,” I said. “She laced the fire with runes. That’s not a half-measure. That’s obliteration.”

I frowned. “You knew her. Do you really think she was afraid someone would find it?”

Henry’s gaze dropped to his lap. For a moment, he looked ancient, not in years, but in weight.

“I didn’t know,” he said softly. “Not about this. About her being a witch.”

We all looked at him. Even Silas straightened a little.

“She never told me,” he continued. “Not once in all our years together. I just thought she liked weird books and had a thing for herbs. But I’ve been reading these journals, and I think… I think she used magic on me.”

“What kind of magic?” Dahlia asked.

“A memory spell,” he murmured. “To make me forget. Or not notice. Or maybe both.”

I felt the air shift.

“Why would she do that?” Dahlia asked, her voice gentle.

Henry looked up. His eyes weren’t sad—just… hollow.

“She says in here,” he tapped the journal in his lap, “that it wasn’t because she didn’t love me.

It was because there was someone she feared.

Someone unsavory, she says. A name she wouldn’t even write.

Said the less I knew, the safer I’d be. That if they ever came looking for her, they’d see a harmless old man who had no idea what she really was. ”

I glanced at Silas, who remained still.

“Do you think it’s connected?” I asked him. “To Calliope? To the Order?”

Silas nodded slowly. “Probably. There are only a few groups dangerous enough to make someone hide magic like that. And Calliope’s—the Order of Alecto—they don’t just kill witches. They erase them.”

Dahlia shivered beside me. I reached over and laced our fingers together.

“There’s more,” Silas added. “The Rite wasn’t just about immortality. It had roots. Deep roots. It needed to be anchored to something… old. Something vast. There’s a site—an ancient one. We used to call it the Temple of the Unbound. It’s near my home in Europe.”

“You think we’ll find answers there?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I think we’ll find the final piece. The way to break the bond between you and the locket. The magic began there. And it will end there.”

The room was quiet again.

Dahlia looked between us. “Then what are we waiting for?”

“You,” Henry said gently. “You’re not ready.”

She blinked at him. “I—what?”

“You have power. Maybe more than any of us. But you don’t know how to wield it. You couldn’t stop the hellhound. If Kieran hadn’t—”

“I know,” she said softly.

Henry leaned forward. “I don’t say that to hurt you. But if we’re going to that place—if we’re facing what’s coming—you have to be able to stand your ground.”

“She will,” I said. “I’ll help her. We all will.”

“She’ll need combat, too,” Henry added. “Not just spells. Real defense. Thea will train her.”

“And if you two fall apart,” Silas said, eyeing me with something almost like sympathy, “we’re all dead.”

I glared at him. “Noted.”

But part of me knew he was right.

And whatever waited at the Temple?

It wasn’t going to wait.

The group broke apart a few minutes later, scattering like embers. Silas went out back to “get air,” which probably meant brooding and pissing off Thea when she returned. Henry wandered to the kitchen to make tea, humming something old and war-worn.

I stayed where I was, watching Dahlia collect the last of the books. She looked distracted, quiet in a way that wasn’t entirely peaceful.

I stood and gently reached out, brushing her arm. “Walk with me?”

She nodded, and we slipped onto the back porch in silence. The sun had started to dip just slightly, casting long shadows over the backyard. The grass looked gold at the edges, like it had caught fire and didn’t know it.

We stood side by side, not touching, not needing to. The quiet between us felt like something sacred.

Finally, Dahlia said, “Do you think I can do it?”

I turned toward her, startled by the vulnerability in her voice.

“Do what?” I asked, though I already knew.

“All of it,” she whispered. “Learn to fight. To use magic. To face her. I feel like I’m… always behind. Always barely catching up.”

I stepped closer, brushing my knuckles against her hand. “You’re not behind, Dahlia. You were thrown into the deep end and still haven’t drowned.”

She let out a shaky breath. “But you’ve seen real witches. Real power. What if I don’t measure up?”

I lifted her chin gently until our eyes met. “You don’t need to measure up. You just need to be you. And you’re stronger than you know.”

I wanted to say more. That the thought of losing her scared me more than the Order. That the bond between us had started in magic but had grown into something far more dangerous.

But I just kissed her forehead and held the silence like a promise.

I didn’t know what would come next.

But I knew I’d face it with her.