Aradia fell to her knees, her fire trembling, her tears burning. She saw Kael staggering, his body bleeding, his green eyes fierce but fading. She heard the Shadow roaring, endless and hungry. She felt the gods watching, waiting for her to die.
And she broke.
Her fire erupted—not curse, not destruction. Pure. Brilliant. Creation.
It flowed from her like dawn, golden and white, wrapping Kael in warmth, healing his wounds, searing shadow into nothing. Wolves gasped, their golden eyes wide, their bodies lifted by her flame.
This was not fire that consumed.
It was fire that gave life.
Kael caught her, his rough hands steady, his lips pressing to hers with reverence. "You are not curse," he whispered. "You are life. You are hope. You are mine."
Her tears spilled, her fire blazing brighter, her body trembling but unbroken. Together, they rose.
Witch and Alpha. Flame and Fang.
And the Shadow trembled.