Chapter 155

The night exploded into violence.

Lizarah’s voice cut through the air like a blade. "Take them."

The stonehorn charged first. Massive bodies with horns lowered, hooves tearing up the earth as they thundered toward us. The panthers came from the sides, sleek and silent, their golden eyes reflecting death.

Aureon met the first stonehorn head on. His white tiger form was a blur of fury, claws raking across the enemy’s face, sending blood spraying in an arc that caught the moonlight. The stonehorn bellowed and crashed to the side, but three more took his place.

Beside him, Aurin fought with the experience of age and the strength of a king. His white tiger form was larger than his son’s, scarred from decades of war, his movements economical and devastating. Where Aureon raged, Aurin calculated. He struck at joints, at tendons, at the spaces between armor where stonehorn were vulnerable. His teeth closed on a panther’s spine and snapped it with a sound like dry branches breaking.

Ravin roared, a sound that shook the trees. His lion form leaped into the fray, jaws closing around a panther’s throat. I heard the crunch of bone, the wet gurgle of dying breath. He threw the body aside and spun, barely dodging a stonehorn’s horn that would have gutted him. His claws tore open the beast’s belly, and intestines spilled steaming onto the cold ground.

"Stay behind me," Caelion commanded. His body began to shift, but only halfway. Iridescent scales rippled across his skin, spreading like liquid moonlight over his forearms, his shoulders, the column of his throat. They caught the light and fractured it into shades of sapphire and pearl, beautiful and terrible at once. The crest along his spine rose and elongated, fanning into a translucent sail that ran from his nape to the small of his back, thin and sharp as glass, shimmering with bioluminescent veins that pulsed with soft blue light. His fingers lengthened, webbing stretching between them like delicate membranes of spun crystal. His eyes transformed completely, the blue deepening to the color of the deepest ocean, pupils expanding into dark pools ringed with silver that seemed to glow from within. He moved with inhuman grace, his body arching and fluid, half man and half something ancient and magnificent from the depths of the sea.

A panther lunged for me. Caelion turned, his dorsal fin flashing through the air like a blade made of water and light. The razor edge caught the panther across the throat, opening it with surgical precision. Blood sprayed, and the beast’s head lolled, nearly severed, as the body crashed to the dirt. The head rolled to my feet, eyes still blinking, mouth working in silent screams.

Leon moved like smoke, his lion form massive and golden, his mane as black as midnight. He was fast, so fast, but there were too many. A stonehorn caught him with a glancing blow, and I saw blood spray from his shoulder. He roared but didn’t stop, his claws finding the soft flesh beneath the stonehorn’s jaw.

Veylan fought like an alpha, his silver wolf form massive and terrifying, a shadow of fury and precision. He moved with the coordinated grace of a pack hunter, striking at throats, hamstrings, the vulnerable spaces between armor. His silver coat was soon dark with blood, his pale eyes burning with cold intelligence. He didn’t just kill. He dismantled. Each strike was calculated, efficient, devastating. He left bodies in his wake that didn’t even look like bodies anymore, just meat and bone and blood.

Aurin guarded my left flank, his white form a wall of muscle and fury. A stonehorn charged him, and he met it head on, his greater weight and experience allowing him to unbalance the beast. His claws raked across its eyes, blinding it, before his teeth found its throat. He threw the corpse aside and turned, his golden eyes scanning for the next threat, his breath coming hard.

But they kept coming.

Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

The clearing became a slaughterhouse. Blood turned the earth to mud. The screams of the dying mixed with the roars of my mates, creating a symphony of horror that would haunt my dreams forever.

Aureon was bleeding from a dozen wounds. His white fur was stained crimson. Ravin’s mane was matted with blood, some his own, some not. Caelion’s scales were cracked, weeping blood. Leon was limping. Veylan was slowing. And Aurin... Aurin’s left foreleg was dragging; an old injury reopened from his fight with the Stonehorns years ago. He left a trail of blood with every step, his movements growing heavier, his roars weaker.

They were getting tired.

I could see it in their movements, in the heaviness of their limbs, in the way their breath came in ragged gasps. They were strong, yes. Fierce. But they were not infinite. And the enemy was.

"Please," I whispered, pressing my hands to my eyes. "Please."

I reached inside myself, searching for the binds. Blue was there, pulsing. White was there, warm. But I needed the black. I needed the power that could strengthen my mates.

"Black bind," I prayed, my voice breaking. "Come to me. Give my mates the strength of a hundred men. Please. I’ll give anything. Everything. Just save them."

Nothing.

A stonehorn broke through Caelion’s guard. Its horn caught his side, and I screamed as blood fountained from the wound. He stumbled but didn’t fall, his fin slashing across the beast’s eyes, blinding it.

"Krys!" he shouted. "Run!"

I couldn’t run. I couldn’t leave them.

I reached again, deeper, tearing at the walls inside myself. "Please!"

Nothing.

Ravin took a blow to his ribs. I heard the crack of bone. He roared in pain but kept fighting, his claws tearing open a panther’s chest, exposing its heart, which still beat as the body fell.

Aurin was surrounded. Five stonehorn, drawn to his weakness, to the blood trail he left. He fought like a king, like the legend he was, but they were wearing him down. I saw exhaustion in his movements, desperation in his golden eyes. He was slowing, his injured leg buckling.

"Please!" I screamed into the night. "Black bind! Come to me!"

Still nothing.

A panther got past Leon. It lunged for me, jaws wide, teeth gleaming. Caelion intercepted, his fin punching through the panther’s chest, emerging from its back in a spray of blood. But another took its place. And another.

Ravin was surrounded. Three stonehorn, four panthers. He fought like a cornered lion, but they were wearing him down. I saw exhaustion in his movements, desperation in his eyes.

A stonehorn lowered its horn and charged.

"Ravin!" I screamed.

He turned, too slow, too tired.

The horn was inches from his heart.

I reached inside myself one last time, not with prayer, but with demand. With fury. With the absolute refusal to watch another person I loved die.

"GIVE ME THE POWER!"

Something broke inside me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t warm. It erupted from my chest like a physical thing, tearing through my ribs, my skin, my very soul. I screamed as black threads exploded from my body, dozens, hundreds, shooting outward like tendrils of living shadow.

They found my mates.

The black threads wrapped around Aureon’s bleeding form, around Ravin’s broken ribs, around Caelion’s torn side, around Leon, and Veylan. They sank into their skin, their fur, their scales, and I felt the connection snap into place with a force that knocked me to my knees.

Power flowed through me and into them.

Aureon roared, and the sound was different now. Deeper. Stronger. He moved, and three stonehorn fell before they even saw him coming. His claws tore through horn and bone like paper. His teeth crushed skulls. He was everywhere at once, a white blur of death that left nothing standing in his wake.

Aurin watched with awe as the black threads wrapped around his son, as Aureon’s wounds closed and his muscles swelled with impossible strength. He didn’t receive the power himself. The black bind answered only to Krys’s mates, to the men bound to her by love and choice. But he saw what it did, saw his son become something more than mortal, and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

Aureon roared, and the sound was different now. Deeper. Stronger. He moved, and three stonehorn fell before they even saw him coming. His claws tore through horn and bone like paper. His teeth crushed skulls. He was everywhere at once, a white blur of death that left nothing standing in his wake.

Aurin fought beside him, guarding his flank, striking at the enemies Aureon drove toward him. Aurin see now that his son was unstoppable, the burden of leadership, of protection, of being the strongest, finally lifted. He fought with the skill of decades, but now he fought with hope. Father and son moved together, and where they passed, enemies died.

Ravin stood taller, his wounds closing before my eyes, his muscles swelling with new strength. He grabbed a stonehorn by its horns and twisted, snapping its neck with a sound like breaking wood. He threw the body into three panthers, crushing them against a tree with enough force to split the trunk.

Caelion’s fin glowed with black light. He moved through the enemy like a reaper, his strikes leaving trails of shadow that lingered in the air. Where he passed, enemies fell in pieces. He was beautiful and terrible, an angel of death in scales and blood.

Leon and Veylan fought back to back, their movements synchronized, their strikes devastating. They were no longer tired. No longer wounded. No longer limited by mortal flesh.

The black bind had given them the strength I prayed for. The strength of a hundred men. A thousand.

Victory was in sight.

The stonehorn were falling back, breaking, running. The panthers were dead or dying. Lizarah’s army was crumbling.

I saw her face across the clearing, twisted with rage and disbelief. She screamed something, an order, a curse, I couldn’t hear. But I saw her grab Laurelli, saw her point toward me, saw her daughter’s eyes lock onto mine with pure murderous intent.

Laurelli moved.

She was fast, faster than she should have been. She slipped past Aureon, past Ravin, past Aurin, past the chaos of battle. Her hand held a blade, thin and curved, poisoned by the green sheen on its edge.

She was coming for me.

My mates were too far. Too busy with the remaining enemies. They wouldn’t reach me in time.

I couldn’t move. The black bind had taken everything I had. I was empty, drained, barely able to stand.

Laurelli raised the blade.

"Die, beast," she hissed.

Something moved between us.

A figure, dark and swift, throwing himself into the path of the blade. I heard the wet sound of steel piercing flesh, the gasp of shock, the grunt of pain.

Laurelli stared, her mouth open in disbelief.

The figure turned slowly, the blade still buried in his chest.

Lorian.

The panther. The man who had annoyed me, pursued me, made me uncomfortable a hundred times. The man I had suspected, distrusted, thought might be the enemy.

He looked at me, blood bubbling on his lips, and smiled.

"Krys," he whispered.

Laurelli screamed and tried to pull the blade free, but Lorian grabbed her wrist, holding her in place with strength that was fading fast.

"Why?" Laurelli shrieked. "Why would you betray your family? Your kind?"

Lorian gasped as he answer his sister. "Because," he said, his voice growing faint, "I love her. Believe it or not. From the first moment I saw her." He turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto me with an intensity that belied the life draining from him. "Call me a romanticist... but I really did feel it with you. That first day. That first look. I knew."

"Lorian," I breathed, stumbling toward him.

"I know," he said, coughing blood. "I know you don’t love me. I know. But let me help the woman I love. You can’t take that away from me."

Caelion moved. I didn’t even see him coming. His Mer fin, still glowing with the remnants of black bind power, flashed through the air. It caught Laurelli in her abdomen, the sharp edge slicing through skin and muscle and bone with terrible ease. Her stomach opened, spilling her insides onto the earth. She stared down at herself in disbelief, then fell dead before she hit the ground.

Lizarah’s scream tore through the night. "Laurelli!"

She ran to her daughter, dropping to her knees, gathering the body, the blood, the dead flesh that had been her child. She looked up at me, at Lorian, at Caelion, and the madness in her eyes was absolute.

"My children," she moaned. "Both my children. Gone."

She reached for something at her belt, but Aureon was there. His paw came down on her head with crushing force. I heard her neck snap. She fell across her daughter’s body, and neither moved again.

Silence fell.

The remaining enemies were fleeing, disappearing into the jungle. The clearing was a field of corpses. The moon looked down on a scene of such carnage that I could barely process it.

Aurin stood over Lizarah’s body, his white fur stained red, his golden eyes empty. He said nothing. He simply stared at the woman who had been his friend, who had been the mastermind that had his children killed his bondbrothers, who had betrayed everything he had built.

I caught Lorian as he fell.

"Let me save you," I begged, pressing my hands to his wound. "Please. I can heal. I have the white bind. I can fix this."

He looked up at me, his golden eyes already dimming. His hand found mine, weak but warm.

"Too late," he whispered.

"No. No, it’s not. I can fix it. I can fix anything."

But even as I said it, I felt the truth crushing down on me. The blade had pierced his heart. I could see it in the way the blood pumped, dark and sluggish, from the wound. The poison was already in his blood, turning his veins black beneath his skin. The light was leaving his eyes, that golden warmth fading to something distant and hollow.

I reached for the white bind, for the healing tide that had saved so many before. I tore at the walls inside myself, searching for that warm, gentle power. But there was nothing. Only emptiness. Only exhaustion.

The black bind had taken everything. Every drop of power, every spark of energy, every reserve I had. My body was a hollow shell, my spirit drained dry. I called and called, but the white bind would not answer. It was too far, too faint, too beyond my reach.

I had nothing left to give him.

And he was dying because of it.

"Why?" I asked, tears streaming down my face. "Why did you save me?"

He smiled, that same annoying, charming, arrogant smile he had always worn. "Told you," he breathed. "Love you. Stupid, isn’t it?"

"It’s not stupid," I sobbed. "It’s not stupid. Please. Please stay."

His hand tightened on mine, then loosened. His chest rose once, twice, then stilled.

His eyes never left mine. His smile never faded.

He was gone.

I screamed.

I reached for the white bind, for the healing tide, for anything that could bring him back. But the white bind couldn’t save the dead. It could mend flesh, restore blood, repair bone. It couldn’t return a soul that had already fled.

I had failed him.

I had suspected him, distrusted him, pushed him away. And he had died for me. He had chosen me over his family, his kind, his life. And I had let him die.

"Why didn’t I save him first?" I whispered, rocking his body against my chest. "Why?"

Caelion’s arms wrapped around me, his blood mixing with Lorian’s, with my tears.

"Krys," he said softly. "Krys, we have to move. More might come."

"I could have saved him," I moaned. "I could have. Why didn’t I reach for him? Why didn’t I heal him first?"

"Because you were saving us," Aureon said, his voice rough with exhaustion and grief. He looked at his father, who stood silent, staring at Lizarah’s body with empty eyes. "You gave us the black bind. You saved us all."

"But not him," I cried. "Not him."

I looked down at Lorian’s face, at the peaceful smile, at the golden eyes that would never open again. I had never loved him. I had never even liked him, not really. But he had loved me. Enough to die for me.

And I had let him.

"Thank you," I whispered, pressing my forehead to his. "Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

The jungle was silent. The battle was won. But as I held the body of the man who had died for my sake, I felt like I had lost everything.

The black bind had given me power.

But power couldn’t bring back the dead.

And some debts could never be repaid.