The feeling of waking.

  Kael’s mind calibrated itself, instinctively assessing damage before memory returned. Too much—his body buzzed with the aftermath of trauma. There was residual mana in the air, heavy and stale, clinging like old smoke. Multiple healing spells—cast and layered over hours. No... days.

  His eyes cracked open. Even that burned. Light stabbed through his vision like glass, and every nerve throbbed beneath tightly wrapped bandages. Physical healing, aided by magic. Standard protocol for heavy trauma. His scars flared with the effort, and deep within, the torrent growled at his weakness.

  The room was plain. Stone walls, a single bed. Functional. Isolated.

  Kavari sat slumped in the corner, her head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed. Her red braid dangled loosely between blood-crusted fingers.

  Kael shifted, pain rippling through his frame, and her ears twitched—just slightly.

  “You don’t have to fake it,” he rasped. “I saw the twitch. You’re awake.”

  Her rain-colored eyes blinked open slowly. “You’re alive,” she said, voice low. “Gods, Kael. You scared the shit out of everyone.”

  “How long?” he asked. “And how’d you find me?”

  “Three days. It was me and Runt. We tracked your scent from the central bridge all the way to where you washed up. It smelled like… a cataclysm.”

  She sat forward, dragging the chair closer. “You were half-dead. Less than half. I thought you were gone.”

  “Runt was…”

  Kael gave a shallow nod, muscles screaming with the effort. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad.” Kavari didn’t sugarcoat it. “The Imperials are combing through the middle districts—door to door—with the pikeys. The nobles are howling for blood. I don’t know what you expected to happen, but it’s chaos out there.”

  “They’re still in the middle district?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” He exhaled, slow and pained. “We still have time. I hate losing three days, but there are threads left to pull.”

  Kavari frowned. “From where? Kael, what could you possibly still have left?”

  He didn’t answer—just gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright inch by inch. “I’ve got it in hand.”

  She didn’t press. Not yet.

  “The merger?”

  “Going smoother than expected,” she said. “Oliver’s got the reins. Yuri’s helping him keep it steady, and Frank’s stepped in a few times when things got loud. Better pay, safer conditions... most of the beaters and warehouse crews fell in line faster than I thought they would. Full integration’s still a ways off, but it’s happening.”

  Kael braced himself. “Lucien?”

  Kavari winced. Her gaze dropped, hands wringing tightly. “Alive,” she said. “But… he wouldn’t let the Sisters use magic on him. Was lashing out. Like a cornered animal. Wouldn’t even let them near him.”

  Kael shut his eyes. A slow breath escaped. Alive. That was enough for now.

  When he opened them again, Kavari was closer—hands around his.

  She stared into him, raw and unfiltered.

  “Kael,” she whispered. “What the fuck was that?”

  Kael’s mind finally caught up.

  “Wait,” he said slowly, voice rough. “Before that—did you say Sisters?”

  Kavari blinked. “Yeah. Closest place to take Lucien after he hit the street. He was bleeding out, Kael. We didn’t have a lot of options. We brought you here too once we stabilized him. Figured you’d want to see him if… when you woke up.”

  Shit.

  His heart sank.

  The Brassreach Lunar Temple.

  Kael’s jaw tightened as the realization settled in like cold iron in his gut. Gotta get my head in the game.

  He forced a breath through his nose. “It’s fine,” he muttered, then looked at her, voice softer. “You stayed with me the whole time, right?”

  Kavari gave him a confused glance, eyes searching his face. “Yeah. Since we found you, I haven’t left your side.” Her brow creased. “What’s wrong?”

  Kael shut his eyes for a heartbeat. “The Matriarch of this temple,” he said flatly. “She wants to fulfill her Lunar Pledge… with me.”

  There was a long pause.

  Then Kavari burst out laughing—half hysterical, half relieved. “Gods,” she said between breaths, wiping her eyes. “That’s it? I thought you were about to drop another cesspit of political intrigue. She just wants a new daughter for the order, Kael. That’s practically quaint at this point.”

  He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smirk.

  Stolen story; please report.

  A cold chill snaked down his spine just thinking of what might’ve happened if Kavari hadn’t been in the room.

  This place breathes control.

  Mysticism. Manipulation. Dream-magic.

  He looked around the simple chamber with new eyes. “Yeah… my problem for later,” he muttered. “Catch me up. What happened while I was out?”

  Kavari sobered. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “Honestly?” she said. “I’m not sure I understand half of it.”

  “You were broken, Kael. I mean really broken. Bones, flesh, organs—like you’d been fed through a siege engine and spit back out. They started bringing in mage cores, but every time they tried to cast a healing matrix… it just flickered out. The cores dimmed. Spells unraveled. Like something was swallowing the magic whole.”

  Kael felt his scars itch at the story. The Torrent. Hungry and wild.

  Kavari’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. “But you healed anyway. We watched it happen. Slowly. Visibly. Flesh stitching together. Bones resetting. It wasn’t natural. The sisters didn’t know what to make of it.” She paused. “And the Matriarch… she just stood there. Watching. Never spoke. Never left.”

  Kael stared at her. “They let you stay?”

  She met his gaze and held it. “I didn’t give them a choice.”

  He looked at the dried blood on her hands. Her red braid, still messy from three sleepless days.

  His shadow, indeed.

  He let his head fall back against the pillow, just for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

  Kavari smiled faintly. “I’ll take the credit after you can walk.”

  Kael sat up, muscles groaning in protest, and swung his feet off the bed. Kavari’s eyes widened. “How—?”

  He tried to stand.

  His legs buckled, and he sank back down onto the mattress, teeth clenched in frustration.

  Kavari watched him, torn between awe and fear. She didn’t hide it well. “Kael,” she whispered, voice raw, “what the hell are you?”

  There it was.

  That look.

  He’d seen it too many times—on teammates, commanders, medics.

  Even family.

  The look people gave him when he walked away from what should have killed him.

  He met her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  She bristled. “Kael. You. Dammit.” Her voice cracked. “You gotta let someone in. You know damn near everything about me. You can’t just keep hiding behind your fucking silence.”

  He looked away toward the door.

  She followed his gaze. A beat passed, then she stood, crossed the room, and placed a privacy charm on the door. Clicked the lock. Just to be sure, she shoved a chair under the handle.

  Then she came back and sat beside him, close, eyes searching his. Waiting.

  He couldn’t meet her gaze at first. But then…

  “I always was like this,” he said quietly. “I think.”

  “The Border Wars?” she asked gently.

  He nodded, then shook his head. Words were hard. This wasn’t something he talked about—not with anyone.

  “I just call it… my edge,” he finally said. “Didn’t always have it. Or maybe I did, just weaker. It grew stronger. Sharper. Over time.”

  He gave a soft, bitter laugh. “A priest I knew—Brother Thomas—he called it that. Said the Edge would keep me alive. Said it was a miracle. Thought the gods had a plan for me.”

  Another laugh, rougher. “I think it’s a fucking curse.”

  Kavari reached out and took his hand in hers. Gently. Her touch was warm, grounding.

  Kael looked into her eyes, his own filled with something ancient and wounded.

  “It keeps me alive,” he said. “Draws mana. Lets me… survive things no one should. And I kept it to myself. At first because I was scared. Then because it became a weapon. Something I could control. Something sharp enough to cut through anything.”

  A pause.

  He looked down at their hands. “But it cuts both ways, Kavari. Every time I use it, I lose a little more.”

  “I know that look you gave me,” Kael said quietly. “Felt the question before you even asked it—because it’s followed me my whole damn life.”

  He stared straight ahead, eyes distant.

  “Why you? Why are you the one who made it when the others didn’t?”

  His voice dipped lower.

  “Why me? Gods, if I knew…” He shook his head, lips curling in something too bitter to be a smile. “It’s not some divine secret. No great plan. Whatever this is—this edge—it keeps me stitched together on the outside… while it rots me from the inside.”

  Kavari didn’t say anything. She just moved.

  She pulled him into a embrace, arms tight around him. Trying to understand. Trying to reach the part of him that had walked out of too many fires alone. The part that never really came back.

  A long silence passed.

  Then Kael whispered, “I think I know what it feels like to be battle-born.”

  Kavari leaned back slightly, just enough to see his face.

  “There’s something in me,” he went on. “A force. A hunger. It claws at me every time there’s even a hint of violence. It wants the fight. It craves pain. Not mine—others’. It hates my weakness. Loves theirs. And it wants to win. Every. Single. Time.”

  Kavari’s eyes shone, not with judgment, but with something quieter. Sadder. Her fingers brushed his cheek, callused and warm.

  “I know,” she said softly.

  She eased him back down, lying beside him on the narrow bed, pressing her forehead gently against his.

  No more words.

  Just shared breath. Shared silence.

  A shared pain.

  And a shared refusal to let it break them.

  She spoke quietly, her voice muffled against his chest, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Bonded mates give whelps and crawlings to the pride. The pride is the family. It’s not just blood—it’s shared breath, shared ground. All are one beneath the First Fang.”

  Her words caught in her throat.

  “But…” Her voice trembled. “You don’t forget what came before. What it felt like. That older kind of love. A father’s hug. A mother scratching behind your ears when you’re small. Gods…”

  She swallowed, her whole body stiff with shame.

  “If anyone heard me say this—”

  Kael gently brought a hand to her face.

  She resisted at first, a flinch of instinct—then sighed, a small surrender. She lifted her head, tears trembling in her rain-colored eyes.

  “Secret for a secret?” Kael said softly, his voice warm. Not coaxing—inviting.

  Kavari gave a tearful laugh and pulled him into a tighter embrace.

  “Gods, yes,” she whispered, her voice breaking with something between grief and trust. “But Kael, I swear, if you ever tell anyone—I'll claw your damn eyes out.”

  He chuckled into her hair. “Deal.”

  They lay together, sharing warmth and secrets—an old thing, older than pride or protocol. There’s power in that. In silence. In trust. In choosing not to flinch.

  We keep our fears close, bury them deep, fearing what they’d say about us if ever spoken aloud. We hide the pain, box up the trauma. Until we freeze—motionless, breath held at the edge of the abyss.

  But across that gulf, there’s something waiting, shared pain, quiet understanding, acceptance. Healing, maybe. Rebuilding, if only for a moment. Wholeness—not as a promise, but as a presence.

  It lived in the simple things. The stillness and warmth of her beside him. The weight of a hand. A heartbeat not entirely his own.

  But there was still too much left undone.

  The Imperials and their pikeys were crawling through the districts. He needed them off his back. The Black Ledger and the Cold Chain Syndicate were the keys—he just had to wrap the evidence the right way and hand it off to someone who could act. The right person, the right leverage. Deliver the right truth at the right time.

  Fadefall was close. Too close.

  Losing three days meant he’d have to trust others to handle things without him—dangerous, but necessary. Runt’s Nameday was coming, and he had to be there. No excuses. No compromises.

  Then there was the princess and her investigation. He had a guess at what she truly wanted. But he’d confirm it only on his terms—not before. He guarded that thought, and others. Thoughts that flinched from the light. Thoughts he kept hidden even now.

  And so many other things like the Blister rats, Grum and… Lucien. Needed more time always more.

  Still, for this moment, he allowed comfort. Allowed peace.

  Even if it was temporary.

  Then—BANG. The door shook violently, rattling against its frame.

  Someone was trying to force it open.