Chapter 157

I saw his face in my dreams.

Every time I closed my eyes, he was there. Smiling. Bleeding. Dying. The moment played on endless repeat, a nightmare I couldn’t escape, a horror show my mind refused to stop projecting against the backs of my eyelids.

The pyre. The flames. The smell.

I woke screaming.

Ravin’s arms were around me before I even fully surfaced from the nightmare. He pulled me against his chest, his heart beating steady and strong against my back, his breath warm against my hair.

"Krys," he murmured. "Krys, I’m here. You’re safe. You’re safe."

I couldn’t stop shaking. Tears streamed down my face, hot and endless, soaking into the furs beneath us. "He’s dead," I sobbed. "He’s dead, and I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save him, Ravin. I tried, I tried so hard, but I couldn’t...I had no strength left."

"I know." His voice was soft, rough with sleep and emotion. He didn’t try to shush me. He didn’t tell me to be quiet. He simply held me, his large hands stroking my hair, my back, anywhere he could reach, grounding me in the present, in the warmth of his body, in the reality of being alive.

It was his turn to stay with me. The mates had worked out a rotation, ensuring I was never alone, never without someone to catch me when the grief came in waves. Tonight was Ravin’s night. He had held me when we first lay down, his big body curled around mine, his presence a wall against the darkness. No expectations. No intimacy. Just comfort. Just the steady rhythm of his breathing reminding me that I was not alone.

"You have to stop," he said quietly, after my sobs had subsided into hiccupping breaths.

"Stop what?" I asked, my voice raw.

"Hating that he died for you." He turned me gently, his amber eyes catching the moonlight that filtered through the window. They were serious, intent, filled with a gentle sternness I rarely saw from him. "You’re disrespecting his memory, Krys. You’re acting like his choice meant nothing. Like his sacrifice was a mistake."

I stared at him, fresh tears welling. "It was a mistake. He shouldn’t have... I didn’t deserve..."

"He chose," Ravin interrupted, his voice firm but kind. "He chose to step between you and that blade. He chose to give his life for yours. That was his right. His gift. And you’re treating it like garbage, like something shameful, something to be mourned as a tragedy instead of honored as an act of love."

I shook my head, trying to turn away, but he cupped my face, holding me gently but insistently.

"Listen to me," he said. "Lorian loved you. He loved you enough to die for you. That love was real. It was true. I can respect that. I didn’t care much for the man, but he did what any of us would have done for you if the role was switched. And I will feel gratitude towards him until my dying breath that he sacrifice his life to save the woman I love. An even if you didn’t return it, even if you found him annoying, even if you never would have chosen him. It was still real. And he gave it freely. He gave it completely. And you... you are spitting on that gift by wishing it away. By wishing he had let you die instead."

"I don’t wish that," I whispered.

"Don’t you?" His thumb brushed away my tears. "You keep saying he shouldn’t have saved you. That he should have let you take the blade. That his life was worth more. You’re saying his choice was wrong. That his love was wasted." He shook his head. "It wasn’t wasted. It saved you. And now you have to honor that. You have to live. You have to be worthy of what he gave you. Not drown in guilt and ’what ifs.’"

I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his scent; lion and earth and safety. "I don’t know how," I admitted, my voice muffled against his skin. "I don’t know how to accept it without feeling like I’m glad he’s dead. Like I’m grateful in a way that feels... wrong."

"You’re not glad," Ravin said. "You’re grieving. There’s a difference. You can grieve his death and still honor his choice. You can wish he was alive and still be grateful he saved you."

He held me for a long time, stroking my back, pressing kisses to my hair, until my breathing evened out and the tears stopped flowing. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. But I lay there in his arms, listening to his heartbeat, letting his words sink in, trying to find a way to carry the weight of Lorian’s death without being crushed by it.

---

Morning came gray and heavy, the rain from the day before having given way to a thick, oppressive fog that clung to everything like a shroud. I rose quietly, leaving Ravin sleeping, and dressed in simple clothes; dark, muted colors that matched my mood.

I needed to see Reona.

I knew she was grieving. I knew her pain was deeper than mine, wider, more devastating. She had lost children. Aureon’s older siblings, the ones who had died years ago in the attack Lizarah orchestrated. She had lost mates who died protecting those children. She had lost a friend who had betrayed her in the most profound way possible. She had lost her trust, her sense of safety, her belief in the goodness of the people around her.

And yesterday, when I had flinched away from her, when I had been too wrapped in my own grief to offer her comfort, I had failed her. I needed to apologize. I needed to be better.

I found her in the garden behind the main house, sitting on a stone bench, staring at nothing. She looked smaller than I remembered, as if grief had physically shrunk her, drawing her in on herself. Her golden hair was unbound, tangled, falling around her shoulders like a curtain. She wore black, simple and unadorned, the color of mourning.

"Reona," I said softly, approaching slowly, giving her the chance to send me away if she wanted to.

She turned her head. Her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, the golden color dulled by tears and exhaustion. She looked at me for a long moment, then patted the bench beside her.

I sat, keeping a respectful distance, my hands clasped in my lap. "I’m sorry," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "For yesterday. For flinching away from you. For being so wrapped up in my own grief that I couldn’t... I didn’t offer you comfort when you needed it. I’m sorry."

Reona was quiet for a moment, staring at her hands. They were twisted together in her lap; the knuckles white with tension. "You don’t have to apologize," she said finally, her voice hoarse. "I understand. You lost someone too. Someone who died for you. That’s... that’s a special kind of grief. A heavy kind."

"But you lost so much more," I said. "Your children. Your mates. Your friend. I can’t imagine... I can’t even begin to understand what you’re carrying."

She laughed, a broken, brittle sound. "I’m not carrying it well. I keep thinking about them. My babies. They were so small. And the mates who died protecting them; Keenal, strong and fierce, and Theron, who always made me laugh. I loved them. And they died because Lizarah was jealous. Because Cyrus loved me." She shook her head. "I didn’t ask for his love. I didn’t want it. I chose Aurin. I always chose Aurin. But my choice meant nothing to her. She saw only what she wanted, what she thought was stolen from her."

She turned to me, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "And you. You lost Lorian. A good man, despite his arrogance. A man who loved you truly. And you feel guilty because you didn’t love him back. Because you think you should have, or could have, or might have if you’d had more time."

I nodded, unable to speak.

"Krys," she said, reaching out and taking my hand. Her fingers were cold, trembling, but her grip was strong. "You cannot force love. You cannot manufacture it out of guilt or obligation or gratitude. Lorian knew you didn’t love him. He knew. And he chose to save you anyway. That was his gift. His choice. Not a transaction. Not a debt you have to repay with feelings you don’t have."

"I know," I whispered. "Ravin said something similar. That I’m disrespecting his memory by wishing his choice away."

"He’s right." Reona squeezed my hand. "Grief is natural. Guilt... guilt is natural too. But you have to find a way through it. You have to find a way to honor what he gave you without being destroyed by it."

"How?" I asked, my voice breaking. "How do I do that?"

She was quiet for a long time, staring out at the fog-shrouded garden. "You live," she said finally. "You live well. You love your mates. You raise your children. You protect your tribe. You make his sacrifice mean something. And you remember him. Not as a ghost who haunts you, not as a weight that drags you down, but as a man who loved you enough to die for you. Remember him with gratitude, not guilt."

I leaned against her, resting my head on her shoulder. She was warm, solid, a survivor of losses I could barely comprehend. If she could find a way to keep going, to keep breathing, to keep living after everything she had lost, then perhaps I could too.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again, not for yesterday, but for everything. For Lorian. For her children. For all the pain that love and jealousy and betrayal had caused.

"I know," she whispered back, her arm coming around my shoulders. "I am too."

We sat there in the fog, two women bound by grief and loss, finding solace in shared pain. The sun would come out eventually. The fog would lift. And somehow, someway, we would learn to breathe again.

---

I rose from the bench, my legs stiff from sitting so long in the cold fog. Reona remained seated, staring out at the gray garden, lost in thoughts I couldn’t fathom. I squeezed her shoulder once, gently, then turned toward home.

The walk back seemed shorter than the walk there, as if my feet knew where they needed to be, as if they carried me toward healing without my conscious direction. The fog was beginning to lift, thin rays of sunlight piercing through the gray, turning the mist into something golden and soft.

Our home was warm when I entered, the fire in the central hearth burning bright, chasing away the chill of the morning. And they were waiting for me.

All of them.

Atlas was first, his lion form bounding toward me before shifting mid-stride into a boy with golden hair and worried eyes. He threw his arms around my waist, burying his face against my stomach. "Mama," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "Don’t be sad anymore. Please."

Chase followed, quieter, more reserved, but no less desperate in his need to comfort. He pressed his cheek to my hip, his small hands fisting in the fabric of my tunic. "We love you, Mama," he whispered. "We love you so much."

Ryder and Jasper came together, in their lion forms rubbing against my legs, purring loud enough to vibrate through my bones. They shifted, two boys with solemn eyes, and each took one of my hands, pressing kisses to my knuckles with a sweetness that made my heart ache.

Niku and Sikai, my other boys, Leon’s cubs, approached more carefully. They had seen death now, had smelled it on me when I returned. They understood, in their way, that something terrible had happened. Niku reached up and touched my cheek, his small fingers tracing the path of dried tears. "Love Mama," he said, simple and fierce. Sikai nodded, pressing his lips to my other cheek. "Love," he agreed.

Then Levy. My daughter. My heart. She walked to me with the gravity of a queen, her chin lifted, her eyes dry but red-rimmed. She had been crying too, I realized. Crying for me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and held on with a strength that surprised me. "I love you, Mama," she said, her voice steady despite her tears. "You’re the best mama. Don’t be sad. We need you."

I held her, breathing in the scent of her hair, of childhood, of innocence that had not yet been destroyed by the world’s cruelty. "I love you too, little one," I whispered. "All of you. So much."

Then came the others. Tavren, Kaizen, and Zarek, my three leopard boys, still too young to shift. They approached together, a trio of golden fur and worried eyes. Zarek reached me first, his solemn gaze fixed on my face, and pressed his forehead to my shoulder, a rough tongue darting out to lick my cheek. Kaizen butted against my hand, his head pushing under my palm until I stroked his soft ears, his spotted body trembling with emotion. Tavren, the youngest, climbed into my lap with awkward, scrambling paws and simply held on, burying his face against my chest, his frame shaking with the effort of holding back mewling cries.

"We love you, Mama," Tavren said, his voice steady despite the waver in it.

I held them, "You are mine," I whispered to each of them. "My sons. My heart. I love you."

Then the snakes. Syren was first, slithering across the floor with a speed that belied his size. He wound around my ankle, his emerald scales cool against my skin and squeezed. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm. A hug. A serpent’s embrace. He rested his head against my shin, his tongue flickering against my skin in gentle, comforting strokes.

Vaelis followed, coiling around my other leg, his body a living bracelet of jade and malachite. He climbed higher, wrapping around my waist, his head resting on my shoulder, his body a warm, steady pressure against my ribs.

Rhyzar, Kaelor, Seraya, Nyssara, Elira. One by one, they came to me, their bodies intertwining, creating a living armor of scales and love around me. They couldn’t speak, but they didn’t need to. I felt their comfort in every coil, every squeeze, every gentle press of their cool bodies against my heated skin.

They were telling me, in their way, that I was theirs. That I was needed. That I was loved, not for what I could do, not for the power I wielded, but simply for being their mother.

I sank to the floor, surrounded by my children, by their love, by their innocence that asked nothing of me but my presence. I looked at each of them, at their faces, their eyes, their small bodies that I had carried, birthed, raised, or taken into my heart. I had failed Lorian. I had not been able to save him. But I could save these. I could love these. I could be worthy of the life he had given me by living fully, by loving completely, by being the mother they deserved.

"Thank you," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, my darlings. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being here. I love you. I love all of you. Forever and always."

Atlas kissed my cheek. Chase kissed my other cheek. Ryder and Jasper nuzzled my neck. Niku and Sikai pressed against my sides. Levy held my hand. Tavren, Kaizen, and Zarek pressed close, a wall of warmth and devotion. And the snakes coiled around me, a fortress of emerald scales, protecting me from my own grief.

I smiled. It was small, and it was sad, and it was weighted with everything I had lost. But it was real. And for the first time since Lorian had fallen, I felt like I might survive this after all.