They didn't sleep that night.
How could they?
Varek, the man who'd once torn apart Arion Vael's empire with fire and betrayal, was alive.
And now, he was watching.
Planning.
Closer than they'd feared.
Auren paced before the sigil-map table, dark eyes scanning the red-lit markers. His fingers twitched with silent calculations, strategy blooming behind a furrowed brow. Seraphina leaned against a support column, watching him—no longer trying to hide the worry in her gaze.
"You're spiraling," she said softly.
"I don't spiral," he muttered, flipping a rune to change the map's terrain view. "I adjust."
"You haven't blinked in five minutes."
He turned to her, expression tight. "I killed him, Seraphina. I made sure his body burned."
"Then what is he now? A ghost?"
"Worse." He dropped his hand. "He's a revenant clothed in power. I don't know who brought him back, or how, but it means someone has access to magic deeper than prophecy. Someone with enough reach to resurrect a monster."
Seraphina straightened. "Then we hunt the necromancer."
His lips twitched—half smirk, half disbelief. "Just like that?"
"You strategize. I improvise. It's what makes us dangerous."
He studied her a long moment. "You say 'us' so easily now."
She shrugged. "Maybe I've accepted I'm in this too deep to walk away."
"Or maybe," he said, stepping closer, "you just don't want to leave me."
The heat between them flared again—brighter this time, less restrained. Her pulse quickened.
"Don't read into things," she whispered.
"I don't need to read. I remember."
He was inches from her now. Her body remembered, too—how his hand had felt when it gripped hers in the ruins. How his eyes had darkened when she'd touched his jaw. How every breath between them was edged with something dangerous.
"Do you remember everything?" she asked.
"No," he said. "But I remember what love cost me."
That made her flinch. Not from pain—but guilt.
He noticed. His brows knit.
"What are you hiding?" he asked.
Before she could answer—
A horn shattered the silence.
Then screaming.
Sirens.
Auren turned back to the orb table. "Northwestern perimeter breach. Three points."
"How?" Seraphina demanded. "This location is shielded!"
"They found us."
He moved fast—grabbing weapons, sliding enchantment cuffs over his wrists. Seraphina snatched her daggers from the wall, already racing beside him.
They burst into the upper warehouse level just as the ceiling exploded.
Figures dropped through—masked, cloaked in shadow, blades glinting with blood-slick runes. Assassins.
Auren and Seraphina moved like twin storms. His magic lashed outward—concussive blasts of kinetic force sending intruders flying. She weaved through them like a dancer of death, blades flashing, her laughter low and wild.
Then—one of the assassins chanted something.
Seraphina felt the spell slam into her before she could react.
Her limbs went numb. Her vision spun.
"No!" Auren roared—and leapt in front of her.
The magic hit him square in the chest.
He staggered, then dropped.
Seraphina screamed.
Something inside her snapped.
The weakness she'd worn like armor burned away. Her magic, long suppressed, ignited.
Silver fire burst from her palms, spiraling around her in ribbons of heat and fury. The assassins froze in terror.
"You picked the wrong night," she snarled—and unleashed hell.
When it was over, the warehouse was in ruins.
The assassins lay dead or fleeing.
And Auren lay unconscious.
She dropped to her knees beside him, chest heaving. His pulse fluttered faintly against her fingers.
"Come on," she whispered. "Not now."
She cradled his face in her hands.
"I should've told you."
The words slipped out like confession.
"I wasn't just assigned to spy on you. I volunteered."
His eyes didn't open.
"I hated you—before I met you. I thought you were a manipulator, a would-be tyrant clawing his way back to power."
She smiled bitterly. "But then you looked at me like I was more than a tool. You listened. You made me feel like I could build something again."
She leaned down, her forehead resting against his.
"And now I'm falling."
His eyes opened slowly.
"You talk a lot when you think I'm dying," he rasped.
She gasped and jerked back—but he caught her wrist.
His eyes were darker now, shadowed with pain but clear.
"Don't stop."
And before she could speak, he pulled her to him.
Their lips met—furious, aching, desperate.
It wasn't sweet. It was fire and war and loss and rebirth.
It was them.
When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.
"You're still a manipulative bastard."
"You're still dangerous when you care."
They laughed softly.
Then a rumble shook the ground.
A new signal flared on the map below.
Different.
Not red.
Purple.
A code.
Seraphina's face paled. "That's not possible."
"What is it?" Auren asked.
She stood slowly, pulse roaring in her ears.
"That's… my family's crest."
"You said they were dead."
"I lied."