Page 48

Dahlia

The floor groaned under my pacing.

I couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t breathe right. Every inhale scraped like broken glass, every exhale tasted like bile. The fire in the hearth cracked with false calm, too quiet for the storm rolling in my blood.

Silas’s message had arrived hours ago, scrawled in a shaky hand on bloodstained parchment. They’re torturing me. If she wins, don’t let her use me. Don’t let her bring me back. There was more, a plea I couldn’t bear to reread. I’d folded the note with hands that trembled and burned.

Kieran hadn’t said a word when I handed it to him. He just sat with his head bowed, shadows pooling around him like armor waiting for orders.

But the silence ate me alive.

“They’re torturing him,” I spat, the words too loud in the stone room. I whirled toward the heavy chair by the fire and flung out my hand without thinking.

It exploded.

Black shadows burst from my palm, wild and furious, wrapping around the wood like serpents and ripping it apart in a violent snap of legs and splinters.

I stared at my hand, heaving.

Not fire. Not mine.

His.

Behind me, Kieran stood slowly. “Dahlia—”

“They’re torturing your brother, and we’re just sitting here?” I turned, voice shaking. “I know we can’t reach him. I know we’re being watched. But gods, Kieran, she’s toying with us.”

“I know.” His voice was low, raw. He crossed to me slowly, his hands loose at his sides. “I feel it in you. The anger. The pain. It’s mine, too.”

Another gust of shadows coiled around my fingers, flickering with intent that wasn’t entirely mine. The night before, we’d promised to be one—two halves of a single force.

And now it was real.

The shadows obeyed me like a second heartbeat.

“She’s going to pay for every drop of blood she’s spilled,” I growled. “For Silas. For Henry. For what she did to you. ”

“She will,” he said softly. “But not tonight. ”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the whole godsdamned bed into the fire.

Instead, I let the shadows go. They retreated with a whisper and curled at my feet like waiting wolves.

Kieran caught me before I collapsed.

I sagged against him, fury bleeding into exhaustion. My hands were shaking. My chest ached. But the bond between us thrummed steadily, grounding.

“One more night,” he murmured into my hair. “Then we end her.”

I didn’t answer. Just nodded, jaw clenched, and let him hold me.

Because tomorrow, I would need all my fire.

And tonight, I let the shadows grieve for me.

Kieran sat beside me on the floor, his back against the stone wall, eyes shadowed by the flicker of the firelight. We hadn’t moved in a long time. His arm was around my shoulders, my head resting against his chest. It should’ve felt peaceful.

It didn’t.

My thoughts spun too fast to settle. And one kept rising above the rest—sharp and hungry.

“Kieran,” I said quietly, not lifting my head. “I need you to teach me.”

He stiffened. “Teach you what?”

“The things you said were too dangerous.” I sat up, met his eyes. “The deeper magic. The old stuff.”

He shook his head before I even finished. “No. Absolutely not.”

I stared him down. “Why?”

“Because it could kill you.” His voice was too steady. Too calm. “It was dangerous even when I had a full coven and years of training. You’ve had weeks. If something goes wrong, it won’t just backfire—it’ll consume you.”

“And if I don’t learn it?” I snapped. “Then I go into that circle with whatever tricks I’ve scraped together on instinct, and I still die. And then she wins.”

Kieran looked away. His jaw clenched, muscles twitching beneath the skin. “There has to be another way.”

“There’s not.” I stood up, pacing again, fire building in my chest all over. “You saw what she did to Silas. You saw what she is . If she completes the Rite, she won’t stop. She’ll keep going. She’ll burn everything. Everyone. You. ”

He didn’t move.

“She’s trying to destroy my family,” I said, quieter now. “She sent that hellbeast to our doorstep. She’s tortured and cut out Silas’ eye. She did Gods know what to Henry. And she would’ve ripped you apart if she’d had the chance. I won’t let her win.”

Kieran rose to his feet slowly. The shadows curled tighter around him, a silent echo of the weight behind his silence. When he finally met my gaze, his eyes were rimmed with pain.

“You’re asking me to hand you a blade that cuts both ways,” he murmured. “To teach you something that once nearly unmade me.”

“I’m not afraid of bleeding,” I whispered. “I’m afraid of failing you. Failing everyone who died because of her.”

He reached for me then, hands cradling my face like I might vanish. “Flower, if you die—”

“I won’t,” I said. “But if I do… let it be with fire in my hands. Not fear.”

He looked at me for a long, long time.

And then—slowly—he nodded.

“Alright,” Kieran said, voice hoarse. “But we do it my way. No shortcuts. No recklessness. And if I tell you to stop, you stop.”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Then let’s begin,” he said. “Before dawn comes for us.”