Chapter 159

I told them that night.

We sat together in our living room, all of us, the fire burning low and casting dancing shadows on the walls. The children were asleep, the house was quiet, and I had gathered my courage to speak words I knew would terrify them.

"I spoke to the voice again," I said, my hands twisted together in my lap. "When I meditated. It told me about the Azure Sovereign. The last blessing."

Aureon’s eyes sharpened, his body going still. "What did it say?"

I took a breath, feeling the weight of the words before I even spoke them. "It said that if I master all four blessings, I’ll have the power to bring back the dead. To heal anything. To... to resurrect those who have passed."

Hope flared in their eyes, quick and bright. I saw them think of all the falling love ones, of the children Reona had lost, of friends fallen in battles past.

"But there’s a cost," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Every time I use it, every life I bring back, I lose five years of my own life. Five years, gone. Forever."

The silence that followed was absolute. I could hear the crackle of the fire, the wind outside, the distant sound of night birds calling.

"No," Aureon said.

"Never," Ravin agreed, his voice hard as stone.

"Absolutely not," Caelion said, his hand finding mine and squeezing until it almost hurt.

One by one, they spoke, unanimous, fierce, absolute. Leon, his usually gentle face set in lines of iron. Veylan, his silver eyes burning with determination. Even Soryn, who had been so quiet, spoke with vehement force.

"You must never use it," Aureon said, leaning forward, his golden eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made me shrink back. "Never, Krys. No matter what happens. No matter who dies. Even if it’s one of us. Even if it’s all of us. You must not use this power."

"You don’t understand," I said, my voice breaking. "I can’t... I can’t promise that. I can’t sit here and tell you that I would let you die, that I would let any of you go, if I had the power to bring you back. I can’t imagine..."

I started to cry, the tears coming hot and fast, my breath hitching in my chest. "I can’t picture waking up one morning and you’re not there. I can’t imagine a life without you in it. Any of you. I would rather lose five years, ten years, twenty years, than lose a single one of you. Don’t you understand? I love you. I love all of you. I can’t... I can’t..."

I broke down completely, sobbing into my hands, my body shaking with the force of my grief at even the thought of it.

And then they were around me. All of them. Aureon behind me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. Ravin at my side, his hand on my knee. Caelion kneeling before me, his forehead pressed to mine. Leon and Veylan flanking me, their hands on my back, my arms, anywhere they could touch. Soryn at my feet, his head resting against my leg.

"Krys," Ravin whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "My heart. My life. We can’t bear it either. We can’t bear the thought of you losing years of your life for us. Who knows how long you have? Who knows what fate has planned? Five years isn’t a joke. It’s not a small thing. It’s time we could have together. Time our children could have with their mother."

"We would rather die," Leon said, his voice steady and sure, "than steal years from you. We would rather pass into whatever comes next knowing you had a full life, a long life, than live again at the cost of your time."

"Every year with you is precious," Caelion said, his sea-glass eyes wet with tears. "We can’t let you throw them away. Not for us. Not for anyone."

"But I would," I sobbed. "I would throw them all away. I would give everything. I can’t... I can’t promise I won’t."

"Then promise us something else," Soryn said softly, his voice like warm honey, soothing and gentle. "Promise us that you’ll only use it if there’s no other choice. Promise us that you’ll try, with everything in you, to let us go when our time comes."

"And promise us," Veylan added, his usually gruff voice tender, "that you’ll let us take care of ourselves. That you’ll let us protect ourselves, so you never have to make that choice."

I looked at them, at their faces, at the love and fear and determination in their eyes. They were right. I knew they were right. But the thought of standing over their graves, of knowing I could bring them back but choosing not to...

"Make me a promise first," I said, my voice shaking but gaining strength. "Promise me that you’ll never get hurt. That you’ll never take risks. That you’ll always tell me when you’re in pain, when you’re scared, when something is wrong. Don’t hide it from me. Don’t try to be brave and silent. Let me protect you, care for you, heal you with the white bind before it ever gets to that point. If you promise to stay safe, to stay alive, then I’ll promise... I’ll promise not to use the Azure Sovereign. Not unless... not unless there’s truly no other way."

They looked at each other, this council of men who loved me, who had pledged their lives to me and mine to them.

"We promise," Aureon said finally, his voice solemn. "We promise to tell you when we’re hurting. To let you care for us. To do everything in our power to stay alive, to stay with you, for as long as the fates allow."

"And we ask you to promise," Ravin added, "that you will value your own life as much as you value ours. That you won’t throw away years for something that can be healed another way. That you’ll only use that power... only if there’s truly no other choice."

"I promise," I whispered. "I promise to try. I promise to value my life because it’s yours too. And I promise... I promise not to use it unless I must."

They surrounded me then, holding me, whispering words of love and devotion, promises and prayers, until my tears stopped and my breathing evened out. We stayed like that for a long time, tangled together, bound by love and fear and the terrible knowledge of what I could do, and what it would cost.

---

The next morning, I woke with a longing in my chest I hadn’t felt in months.

I wanted to go home.

Not the tiger village, though it had become a home, a second home. I wanted to go back to the lion tribe. To the place where it had all started. To the house where I had first become a mother, first learned what it meant to love these men, first built a family from chaos and hope.

I wanted to see Lisa. My first mother-in-law, the woman who had taken me in, who had taught me, who had loved me like a daughter. I wanted to see Raon, her gruff but kind mate the father of my first and second mate. I wanted to see Layla and Rhonda, my friends. I wanted to see Wren, the rabbit beast woman who I came to meet later and became friends with.

I told my mates at breakfast, my voice tentative, unsure if they would understand.

"I want to go back," I said. "To the lion village. Just for a visit. I miss... I miss home. I miss Lisa. I miss where we started."

The table went quiet. Then Aureon smiled, a soft, understanding expression. "I think that’s a good idea. We could all use a change of scenery. And the children should see where their parents came from."

The preparations took three days. Reona cried when we told her, clutching me to her chest, her tears wetting my hair.

"I’ll miss you terribly, I’m going to miss my grandchildren," she sobbed. "You’ve become like a daughter to me. Like family. I don’t want you to go."

"We’ll be back," I promised, holding her tight. "Soon. I promise. This is just a visit. Just... I need to see Lisa. I need to go home for a little while."

Aurin stood beside his mate, his face grave but understanding. "Come back soon," he said to Aureon, to all of us. "Even if it’s a short visit. This is your home too now. Don’t forget that."

"We won’t," Aureon promised, clasping his father’s shoulder. "We’ll be back before the rains end."

We left at dawn, a group of my mates and my children and Theo who levy wanted to be near, of wagons and supplies, of memories and hope and Eryx came too. He didn’t want to part with his brother when they’ve just found each other again. I looked back at the tiger village as we left, at the walls and the houses, at the people who had become family. I would miss them. But I needed this. I needed to go back to where I had begun.

As we traveled, I found myself wondering about everyone we would see. How was Layla? Had she given birth yet? Was she happy? And Rhonda, with her sharp tongue and her kind heart, was she well? Were there new babies?

And Lisa. Dear Lisa. Was she well? Was she happy? Did she miss me as much as I missed her? And Raon, little Lyle who’s not so little anymore.

I thought of the house where I had lived, the garden where I had grown my first herbs, the bed where I had given birth to my first children. I thought of the stream where I had washed clothes, the market where I had bought food, and the paths where I had walked with my mates.

I missed it. I missed the simplicity of those early days, before the black bind, before the betrayals, before the deaths. I missed the woman I had been, innocent and hopeful, just learning what it meant to be loved.

But I was different now too. Stronger. Wiser. Scarred, yes, but healed. And I was bringing my family home, showing them where I had come from, reconnecting with the roots that had made me who I was.

"We’re going home," I whispered to the wind, to the sky, to the memory of Lorian who had made this life possible. "I’m going home."

And for the first time in months, the word didn’t hurt. It felt like hope.

---

The journey back was chaos incarnate.

I had thought traveling with the leopard cubs was challenging, with their tendency to wander and their fascination with every leaf, insect, and interesting smell. I had prepared myself for the energy of the lion boys, their wrestling, their roaring, their constant motion. I had even braced for Niku and Sikai, who were at an age where they asked "why" approximately four hundred times per hour.

Nothing could have prepared me for the coilings in open wilderness.

In the house, they had been manageable. Confined to rooms, to corners, to spaces I could block off and monitor. But here, in the vast openness of the jungle, with trees stretching in every direction and underbrush thick enough to hide a thousand serpents, my seven emerald-scaled children became a living nightmare of panic and constant counting.

"Syren!" I shrieked, lunging to grab his tail as he slithered toward a hollow log. "Vaelis, get back here! Elira, don’t you dare climb that tree!"

They were everywhere. Under rocks. Up trees. In the wagon wheels. One moment they were all accounted for, coiled in their basket, and the next they had dispersed like green smoke, driven by curiosity and the irresistible urge to explore every new scent, every warm stone, every patch of sunlight.

"Kaelor!" Soryn shouted, his voice pitched with a panic I rarely heard from my stoic mate. He dove into a bush, emerging with a wriggling emerald snake who had been attempting to eat something that looked suspiciously like a poisonous frog. "No. Bad. Spit it out. Now."

I counted again, my heart hammering. One, two, three, four, five, six... where was seven? "Seraya! Has anyone seen Seraya?"

"She’s in your hair," Ravin said, trying not to laugh as I shrieked and reached up to find my missing daughter coiled around my braid, her tongue flicking against my earlobe.

"Why?" I moaned, extracting her carefully. "Why are you like this?"

But the true chaos wasn’t the snakes. It was Levy.

Our daughter had decided, somewhere around midday, that she was done being in her lion form. She wanted to walk in her man form, her perfect, precious, heartbreakingly beautiful man form.

She looked like a doll come to life. Four years old, perhaps five, with golden curls that tumbled down her back, dark eyes that sparkled with intelligence and mischief, and a face that was so perfectly symmetrical, so delicately featured, that she seemed almost unreal. She walked with the confidence of a princess, her chin lifted, her small hand tucked trustingly into whichever father’s palm she had claimed for that hour.

And her fathers... her fathers were absolutely useless.

"She’s going to trip on that root," Leon said, his voice tight with worry, his eyes never leaving her small form.

"She’s going to fall into that stream," Ravin agreed, hovering so close behind her that he was practically stepping on her heels.

"She’s going to be eaten by a bird," Soryn added, his voice grim, his hand constantly reaching out to brush her curls, to adjust her tunic, to ensure she was still there, still real, still safe.

"She’s going to be stolen by bandits," Aureon muttered, his stripes dark with agitation, his head swiveling constantly to scan the trees for threats.

"She’s going to charm a everyone I just know it," Caelion said softly, his expression dreamy and terrified in equal measure. "She’s going to grow up and break a thousand hearts, and I’m going to have to kill a thousand suitors, and I’m going to enjoy every moment of it."

"She’s the most beautiful child I’ve ever seen," Leon said, his voice thick with emotion. "I swear to the gods, I’ve never seen anything prettier. Not in all my years. Not in all my travels."

"Never," Ravin agreed, his golden eyes fixed on his daughter with an adoration that bordered on worship. "She’s perfect. She’s absolutely perfect. And I’m going to wrap her in cotton and lock her in a tower until she’s fifty."

I rolled my eyes, extracting Nyssara from my sleeve where she had been attempting to make a nest. "You’re all ridiculous. She’s beautiful, yes, but she’s also a child. She needs to play, to explore, to live. You can’t protect her from everything."

"Watch us," they said in unison, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

But then I looked at my daughters, at the three emerald-scaled girls who were even now attempting to climb Soryn’s leg, their azure markings glowing softly in the dappled sunlight. Seraya, Nyssara, Elira. They were beautiful in their way, delicate and graceful, with scales that shimmered like jewels and eyes that held ancient wisdom even in their youth.

What would they look like, I wondered, when they finally shifted? When they took human form for the first time? If Levy was this beautiful, this perfect, what would her sisters be? Three more daughters with green hair like Soryn and emerald eyes and faces that would stop hearts?

"We’re doomed," Soryn said, reading my mind, his expression horrified. "Three of them. Three more. All as beautiful as Levy. We’re going to need a fortress. An army. A dedicated team of guards for each of them."

"We’re going to need therapy," I muttered, but I couldn’t help smiling. "You’re exaggerating."

"Am I?" Ravin asked, his eyes still fixed on Levy, who had found a butterfly and was chasing it with delighted shrieks. "Am I really? Look at her. Just look. And imagine three more."

I looked. I imagined. And I had to admit; he had a point.

My daughters were beautiful. In any shape, in any form, they were magnificent. Serpentine or a lion or man form, scaled or skinned or furs, they were treasures beyond price. And yes, protecting them, keeping them safe while letting them grow, would be a challenge that might very well drive us all to madness.

But it would be a beautiful madness. A blessed chaos. A life worth living.

"Come here, Levy," I called, holding out my arms. "Come to Mama."

She ran to me, her small legs carrying her faster than they should, her laughter ringing through the jungle like bells. She crashed into my legs, wrapping her arms around my knees, looking up at me with those perfect amber eyes.

"I love you, Mama," she said, simple and fierce.

I picked her up, holding her close, feeling her warmth, her life, her beauty. Around me, my mates gathered, forming a protective circle, their eyes soft with love and hard with determination.

"We’re going to be fine," I said, not sure if I was reassuring them or myself. "We’ll figure it out. Together."

"Together," they agreed.

And somehow, despite the chaos, despite the panic, despite the sheer impossibility of keeping seven serpents, seven lion cubs, three leopard cubs, safe in the wild jungle... I believed it.