Elowen POV
I don't realize how far I've gone until my legs give out.
Not dramatically. Not heroically.
Just… suddenly.
One moment I'm walking, forcing one foot in front of the other, telling myself that distance equals safety. The next, my knees hit the dirt and the breath is ripped from my lungs like something has punched me from the inside.
I don't scream.
I curl forward, palms digging into the earth, chest burning.
The fire inside me surges—wild, frightened—and for the first time since I left, it doesn't feel obedient. It feels lonely.
"Stop," I whisper to myself. "Stop, stop—"
It doesn't listen.
Heat blooms beneath my skin, crawling up my spine, down my thighs, settling low and sharp in my belly. My body reacts before my mind can catch up, breath hitching, pulse skidding out of control.
This isn't power.
This is need.
I press my forehead to the ground, shaking.
"I didn't leave to fall apart," I whisper.
But the truth is cruel and simple:
I left without knowing how much of myself was tied to him.
Footsteps stop nearby.
"Elowen," Lyra says softly.
I don't look up.
"Don't," I choke. "Don't tell me this is part of their plan."
Silence.
That's answer enough.
Kael POV
It hits me like a wound reopening.
Her pain.
Sharp, sudden, uncontrolled.
I stagger where I stand, the bond screaming to be acknowledged, fire exploding under my skin so violently I nearly lose my form.
"No," I growl.
This is not longing.
This is destabilization.
They're pushing her too hard.
I feel it in the way her magic frays at the edges, in the way her body responds not with strength but with confusion, heat, collapse.
This is what happens when power is denied its anchor.
And I was arrogant enough to think she could endure it alone.
I turn sharply, already issuing orders, shadow and flame snapping to attention.
"Find her," I command. "Quietly."
If the cult wanted me to stay away—
They miscalculated.
Elowen POV
Lyra kneels beside me.
For the first time since we met, her calm fractures.
"This isn't supposed to happen yet," she murmurs.
Rage flares through the haze.
"You keep saying that like it matters."
She exhales slowly. "They're accelerating the pressure. They think you're closer to breaking than planned."
I laugh weakly, bitter. "Congratulations."
My vision blurs. Heat coils tighter, unbearable now—not just magic but something physical. Awareness. Sensitivity. A sharp, humiliating ache between my thighs that makes me gasp.
I hate my body for this.
Hate it for remembering his presence like this. For responding as if he's near when he isn't.
"Say it," I whisper hoarsely. "Say his name."
Lyra stiffens. "Elowen—"
"Say it," I demand, tears spilling freely now. "I need to hear it."
Her voice drops, reluctant.
"Kael."
The sound wrecks me.
My power surges violently, fire flaring around us, scorching the earth in a wide ring. I cry out, fingers clawing at my cloak as sensation overwhelms me—heat, ache, longing so sharp it borders on pain.
"I can't do this," I sob. "I can't keep pretending this bond is just fear."
Lyra grips my shoulders. "If he comes to you now—"
"I don't care," I gasp. "I don't care if I lose. I don't care if I'm weak."
I look up at her, eyes blazing.
"I care that I feel like I'm dying without him."
Kael POV
That's it.
That's the moment restraint becomes cruelty.
I don't teleport.
I don't storm in fire.
I move—fast, controlled, lethal—through shadow paths that bend distance without tearing reality. The world blurs, snaps back into focus—
And I feel her.
Close.
Collapsed.
Burning.
"Elowen," I say, not aloud, but through the bond I've been starving.
Her response is immediate.
A broken, desperate pull that nearly drops me to my knees.
I arrive at the edge of the clearing just as Lyra looks up—
And goes very still.
Kael, she mouths silently.
I don't look at her.
My eyes are on Elowen.
Curled in the dirt. Shaking. Fire licking uncontrollably along her skin, her body tense with sensation she doesn't know how to survive alone.
Rage unlike anything I've known fills my chest.
Not at her.
At myself.
Elowen POV
I feel him before I see him.
The air changes—pressure, heat, certainty.
My breath breaks on a sob.
"No," I whisper. "I didn't call you. I didn't—"
"You didn't have to," Kael says.
His voice is rough. Strained. Like holding back costs him something vital.
I lift my head.
He's real.
Gods, he's real.
Standing there like a storm barely contained, eyes burning gold, jaw clenched so tight it trembles. He looks at me like I'm something fragile and feral all at once.
"I told you not to follow," I whisper.
"I didn't," he answers quietly. "I came because you're hurting."
I try to stand. My legs fail again.
He moves instantly—then stops.
Stops himself.
Hands clenched at his sides.
"Tell me," he says, voice low, controlled to the point of pain, "if you want me to touch you."
The question shatters something inside me.
I stare at him, tears streaming freely, chest heaving.
"I don't know how to want you safely," I whisper.
His gaze darkens, not with possession—but restraint so intense it hurts to witness.
"Then don't," he says. "Just want."
My body betrays me.
I nod.
And he comes to me.