"And Caspian?" I asked, thinking of the account I'd read that morning.
"Caspian is joy in the darkness. He's the youngest, the one who still remembers what it's like to be human. He'll make you laugh when you want to cry, make you feel light when everything else is heavy. But don't mistake his playfulness for lack of depth. His storms run deeper than any ocean."
She turned back to me. "They'll each claim you separately at first. It's tradition, and practically speaking, safer. Their combined magic can only stabilize when the bond is fully formed. But Ava, here's what you need to understand: this isn't about endurance. It's about surrender."
"I don't know how to do that."
"Yes, you do. You've been surrendering your whole life—to Mrs. Kellan's cruelty, to the village's dismissal, to being unwanted and unseen. But this is different. This is choosing to surrender to something that might actually give you everything you've been denied."
She knelt before me, taking my hands. "Let me teach you what they won't. Not diagrams or mechanics, but truth. Your body will respond to them whether you want it to or not—they're too powerful, too primal for it not to. But your mind, your heart—those you have to offer freely. And that terrifies you more than anything physical, doesn't it?"
Tears burned behind my eyes. She saw too much. Understood too well.
"I've never mattered to anyone," I admitted, my voice breaking. "What if I matter to them and it's still not enough? What if I'm not their mate? What if I—"
"Then you'll have experienced something extraordinary before it ends. You'll have been wanted, desired, maybe even treasured. For however long it lasts." She squeezed my hands. "That's more than most people get in a lifetime, Ava."
A soft knock interrupted us. Helena entered with a tray of tea and small vials of oils.
"The physical preparations," Sera said, releasing my hands and standing. "This part is clinical, I'm afraid. But necessary."
Over the next hours, Sera and Helena taught me things that made me blush so hard I thought I might combust. Stretching exercises. Oils that would ease the way. Breathing techniques for when the pain became too much. Pressure points that could enhance pleasure or dull discomfort.
"With four of them, the soreness will be significant," Sera said matter-of-factly. "Especially the first few days. They'll try to pace themselves, give you time to heal between, but the curse drives them. They need to establish the bond quickly."
"How quickly?"
"Traditionally? All four claim you within the first week. Usually within the first three days." She met my eyes. "I know that sounds impossible. But your body will adapt faster than you think. The magic helps with that, at least."
As the sun began to set, painting the room in amber light, Sera pulled out a small bottle from her bag.
"This is from Kieran," she said quietly. "He sends it with every sacrifice. It's a tincture—it won't stop the pain entirely, but it will take the edge off. And it will help you sleep when your mind won't stop racing."
I took the bottle, my fingers brushing hers. "Does he... do they remember you?"
"Yes." Her smile was bittersweet. "I see them sometimes, when they come to the border of their territories. They can't leave the mountain, but they watch. Making sure I'm safe. Making sure the village honors their agreement." She touched my cheek gently. "They're not the monsters you've been taught to fear, Ava. They're prisoners who've forgotten what freedom feels like. And you—you might be their key."
After she left, I stood at the window with the bottle in my hand, watching darkness claim the valley. Somewhere up on that mountain, four brothers waited. Four men trapped by a curse that had stolen centuries from them.
Tomorrow would be my last day of preparation.
The day after, I would climb that mountain.
And discover whether I was their salvation... or just another name added to the list of failures.
I uncorked the bottle and took a small sip. The liquid was bitter but warming, spreading through my chest like liquid courage.
I've never mattered to anyone, I thought again. But maybe—just maybe—I'm about to matter to four.
The thought should have terrified me.
Instead, for the first time since they'd locked that iron bracelet around my wrist, I felt something else entirely.
Anticipation.
My final day of preparation passed in a blur of rituals and instruction.
They bathed me again at dawn, this time in water infused with herbs whose names I didn't recognize. Helena explained that they would heighten my senses, make my skin more receptive to touch. I didn't ask what that meant—I was fairly certain I didn't want to know.
Elder Moira arrived at midday with a wooden box inlaid with silver.
"The sacred oils," she announced, setting it on the table before me. "Each brother has sent one. You'll anoint yourself before the claiming—it's tradition, and it helps the magic recognize the bond."
She opened the box, revealing four crystal vials, each filled with liquid of a different color.
"Kieran's is first—the amber oil. It smells of pine and winter nights. You'll apply it before entering his territory." She lifted the vial, and even from a distance, I could smell it. Dark, earthy, primal. Something in my stomach tightened.
"Dante's is crimson—cinnamon and smoke. Lysander's is silver—frost and starlight. And Caspian's is blue—sea salt and storms." She set each vial back carefully. "You'll know when to use them. The magic will guide you."
"And if it doesn't?"
Elder Moira's expression was unreadable. "Then you were never meant to complete the ritual at all."
After she left, I sat alone with the box, running my fingers over the intricate carvings. Four vials. Four brothers. Four chances to either find my destiny or meet my end.
Helena brought lunch—though I could barely eat—and then sat with me while I tried on the ceremonial dress I would wear for the ascent. It was white silk, nearly transparent, with silver embroidery along the hem and sleeves. The neckline plunged low, and the fabric clung to every curve.
"It's meant to show you're not hiding anything," Helena explained gently. "That you come to them openly, honestly."
"It makes me look like a sacrifice at an altar," I muttered.
"You are a sacrifice at an altar," she replied. "But perhaps not the kind you think."
That evening, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, Sera returned. But this time, she wasn't alone.
A young woman accompanied her—perhaps a few years older than me, with copper hair and sharp green eyes. She looked me over with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"This is Mira," Sera introduced. "She was a sacrifice twelve years ago."
My heart stuttered. "You survived too?"
Mira's laugh was harsh. "Survived. Yes, I suppose that's one word for it." She moved to the window, her movements stiff, deliberate. "They sent me back after six weeks. The bond was forming with three of them—Dante, Lysander, and Caspian. But Kieran..." She shook her head. "Kieran's beast rejected me. Violently."
She turned, and I saw the scars. They ran down her neck, disappearing beneath her collar—raised, angry marks that looked like claw marks.
"He didn't want to," Mira said quickly, seeing my expression. "He fought it. Gods, he fought so hard. But when the magic sensed the incomplete bond, it turned him feral. The others had to pull him off me." Her hand went to her throat. "Dante carried me down the mountain himself. Stayed with me for three days until I was stable enough to survive without them."
"Why are you telling me this?" I whispered.
"Because Sera wants you to believe it's all passion and destiny and romantic surrender." Mira's eyes were hard. "And maybe for her, it was. But for me? I felt the bond forming. I wanted them. All of them. And it still wasn't enough. So you need to understand—even if you do everything right, even if you open yourself completely, you might still fail. And the failure..." She touched her scars again. "The failure is agony."
"Mira," Sera said softly.
"No. She needs to hear this." Mira stepped closer to me. "Don't go up that mountain thinking love conquers all. Don't go thinking that if you just surrender hard enough, want them enough, it'll work. The curse doesn't care about your feelings. It doesn't care about theirs. Either you're their mate or you're not. And if you're not..." She gestured to her scars. "This is the kind version of how it ends."
"I'm sorry," I finally managed. "For what happened to you."
Mira's expression softened slightly. "I'm not here to scare you. Well, not just to scare you. I'm here because you deserve the full truth. Yes, they're incredible. Yes, the bond—if it forms—is unlike anything else in this world. But the risk is real, Ava. And once you start up that mountain, there's no turning back."
She pulled a small dagger from her belt and held it out to me. "Take this."
I stared at the blade, my heart racing. "Why?"
"Because if it goes wrong—if the magic turns violent and they can't control it—you'll want a way out that's faster than bleeding out from claw marks." She pressed it into my hand. "Hide it. They won't search you. And pray to whatever gods you believe in that you never have to use it."
After they left, I sat on the bed with the dagger in one hand and the box of oils in the other. Two versions of my future. Two possibilities.
thought about Sera's wistful reminiscences and Mira's brutal honesty. About the accounts I'd read—some ending in ecstasy, others ending mid-sentence in terror.
What am I doing?
But I knew the answer. I didn't have a choice. It was this or condemn the village. It was this or live with the knowledge that my cowardice had sentenced other girls to the same fate, over and over.
And beneath the fear, beneath the uncertainty, there was something else. Something I was almost afraid to acknowledge.
Curiosity. The same curiosity that had kept Sera alive.
I wanted to know. Wanted to see these brothers who were men and monsters both. Wanted to understand how something so cursed could also be described with words like "joy" and "treasure" and "stars in a dark sky."
A knock at the door startled me. Helena entered with a tray—not food this time, but a steaming cup of tea.
"For sleep," she said. "Tomorrow will be... intense. You'll want to be rested."
I took the cup gratefully. "Helena? Have you ever been up the mountain?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Once. Many years ago. I was chosen, but..." She touched her lower abdomen. "I wasn't a virgin. I'd lost my maidenhead in a riding accident as a child. The magic knew immediately. Kieran sent me back down before nightfall."
"What was he like?"
A small smile crossed her weathered face. "Sad. So incredibly sad. He apologized—can you imagine? An ancient, cursed being apologizing to me because his magic couldn't accept a technicality." She moved toward the door. "They're not monsters, Ava. They're just... lost. And very, very tired."
After she left, I drank the tea and lay down in the too-soft bed, the dagger hidden beneath my pillow and the box of oils on the nightstand.
Tomorrow, I would climb the mountain.
Tomorrow, I would meet the brothers who needed me to be something I'd never been before.
Sleep claimed me slowly, and with it came dreams. Not nightmares this time, but something else entirely. Four figures in the darkness, each with eyes that glowed different colors. Amber. Crimson. Silver. Blue.