The night pressed in around them, hushed and heavy, as Wren stood between two forces that had pulled her in opposite directions since the moment her soul awakened. Cassian's hand in her left, warm and calloused, trembled slightly beneath her fingers. Veylan's in her right, cool and steady, pulsed with magic that throbbed gently against her palm.
She looked up at the stars overhead, seeking something—guidance, clarity, maybe just a break from the war inside her chest.
"I don't know where this is going," she said softly, voice fragile in the still air. "But I know I don't want to walk it alone."
Neither man pulled away.
Cassian's voice was the first to break the silence. "Then let us walk beside you."
Veylan's grip tightened faintly. "Even if we burn for it."
Wren exhaled a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut. Her magic pulsed again—this time gentler, more controlled, weaving like a thread through the three of them. Not a bond. Not yet. But something else. A temporary truce. A shared tether.
The moment hung suspended, sacred in its uncertainty.
Then Wren opened her eyes. "Come. There's something I need to show you."
She led them through the forest, past the veil of trees until the cottage came into view—but she didn't stop there. Beyond it, down the old stone path half-eaten by moss, sat the remains of the old shrine. A circle of blackened stones, etched with runes no longer used. It was here her mother had once whispered spells under moonlight. It was here Wren had first felt her power stir, wild and furious.
She stepped into the circle, her fingers still laced with theirs, and the air around them shifted. The ground beneath their feet shimmered faintly.
Cassian's eyes narrowed. "What is this place?"
"Where I was made," Wren whispered. "And where I might be unmade, if I'm not careful."
Veylan watched her closely. "You're afraid."
She didn't deny it. "I'm afraid of what I'm becoming."
Cassian stepped closer. "You're not alone in this, Wren. Whatever's coming—we'll face it."
Wren's eyes found his. "Even if I lose control?"
He reached out, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. "Then I'll be the one to catch you."
Veylan's voice was soft, but sure. "And I'll be the one to remind you who you are."
Her throat tightened. "I don't deserve either of you."
"You don't have to," Veylan said. "You only have to be brave enough to let us stay."
Wren looked down at their joined hands again.
She was fire.
She was shadow.
And she was loved—flawed, fated, feared. But still loved.
Wren stepped out of the circle, releasing their hands at last. The magic clinging to her skin fizzled like dying embers, reluctant to let go.
"You both speak as if this is simple," she said, turning to face them fully. "But it's not. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of something that could swallow us all."
"It already is," Cassian said, voice low. "You felt it too, didn't you? That surge when we all touched. That wasn't just magic, Wren. That was something ancient."
Veylan's gaze sharpened. "The bond. Or a distorted form of it."
"No," Wren said quickly. "I never accepted the bond with Cassian. And I haven't… chosen one of you. I can't. Not yet."
Cassian took a slow breath, visibly steadying himself. "Then let us be what we are now. No pressure. No promises. Just… presence."
Veylan gave a nod, though his eyes remained wary. "Until your heart decides."
Wren met their gazes in turn. "And what if it doesn't?"
Silence.
It was Veylan who finally said, "Then we burn quietly."
The honesty in his words hit her like a blow. Gods, how did she end up here—held between two men who would destroy themselves to make space for her?
A strange wind picked up then, dry and rustling, though the trees hadn't moved. The hairs on the back of Wren's neck rose.
Cassian stepped forward, nostrils flaring. "You smell that?"
Veylan's jaw tightened. "Rot. Old blood."
Wren turned toward the woods.
A flicker of movement—too fast for mortal eyes—darted through the shadows just beyond the tree line. Then another. And another.
Cassian growled. "We're not alone."
The shadows shifted, taking form—twisted wolves, skeletal and snarling, their eyes glowing faintly blue. Not natural. Not wild.
Wren backed up instinctively. "Those aren't real wolves."
"No," Veylan said grimly. "They're shades. The dead, called from the grave."
Wren's magic responded before she could even think. Her palms lit with crackling gold, searing hot against the night air.
Cassian shifted beside her, his body morphing smoothly into his wolf form—larger than any natural beast, his silver coat gleaming with power.
Veylan stepped closer, darkness swirling around him like a second skin. "Stay behind us."
"No," Wren said, stepping between them again. "I'm not hiding. Not anymore."
The shades circled, jaws snapping, some already lunging forward. But Wren raised both hands and let her magic fly.
A blast of golden fire erupted from her chest, catching the first wolf mid-leap and hurling it backward into the trees. Another darted in from the side—only to be tackled midair by Cassian, his fangs tearing through bone and shadow.
Veylan struck with clean precision, dark energy slicing like blades as he dispatched another.
But for every fallen shade, two more came.
Wren gritted her teeth. "They're not stopping."
And in the distance, beyond the pack of death… something darker stirred. Watching.
Waiting.
The clearing exploded into chaos.
Wren spun, fire arcing from her fingertips as another shade lunged at her. The wolf twisted in midair—unnatural, bones creaking like old branches—and Wren ducked, thrusting a burning palm up beneath its jaw. Flames erupted through its skull, turning it to ash before it hit the ground.
Cassian's wolf form darted between enemies, a blur of silver and blood. He tore through a shade's throat and turned just in time to shield Wren's blind side. Another came for her legs—Cassian lunged, taking the hit and tossing the creature with a savage snarl.
Veylan was a storm in shadow. His magic coiled around him like a serpent, tendrils of void-dark power slicing through the air. He moved with deadly grace, never missing a beat, his strikes clean and surgical.
But the shades were endless.
Wren's chest heaved. Her power flared wildly—too wild. It was leaking out of her, uncontrolled, lashing at the world around her. The trees behind them were smoking now. The ground cracked under her feet.
"I can't hold it—" she gasped.
"You're not alone!" Veylan shouted, catching her arm as she staggered back.
Cassian dropped beside her, blood streaked down his fur. "Let it flow through us!"
She looked between them—one hand clutching Veylan's, the other tangled in Cassian's mane.
For a single heartbeat, they breathed together.
Then the three of them unleashed.
Magic exploded from their triad—gold, silver, and black.
The shades screamed. It wasn't a normal sound—it was a sound that clawed at the soul, ancient and wrong, like the earth itself was howling in grief.
Wren screamed too, the force of her magic tearing through her like lightning. Her knees buckled, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.
She saw fire, shadow, teeth.
She saw someone watching—in the trees, cloaked in bone.
A figure. A woman.
Wren blinked—
And the figure vanished.
The last of the shades fell, evaporating in a hiss of smoke and rot.
Silence returned to the clearing, thick and trembling.
Wren dropped to the ground, breath ragged. Cassian limped beside her, now back in his human form, blood coating his arms. Veylan stood over them, his breathing sharp, one hand pressed to a bleeding cut on his side.
"What the hell were those?" Wren whispered.
"I've only seen them once before," Veylan said. "Years ago. In the Shadow War."
Cassian's voice was grim. "Someone's summoning the dead. And they knew where to find you."
Wren met his gaze, heart pounding.
"They weren't after me," she said slowly.
Cassian frowned. "Then who—"
Wren stood, swaying slightly. "I saw her. In the trees. A woman with bone in her hair. She was watching."
Veylan's face paled.
"What?" she asked.
"That's not just a necromancer," he said. "That's something worse."
Cassian looked shaken. "You're saying we're dealing with a witch. One of them."
Wren's blood turned to ice.
She knew who they meant.
The Bone Circle.
Wren had heard whispers—stories buried deep in the pages of forbidden grimoires, always half-rumor and half-nightmare. Witches who didn't just summon the dead, but fed on them. Who walked between worlds like gods, untouchable and ancient. It wasn't possible. They were myths.
Except she'd seen one.
"She looked at me like she knew me," Wren murmured.
Veylan stood still, shadow magic fading into the night. "They know your bloodline. That much is certain."
Cassian stepped closer, jaw clenched. "Why now?"
Wren stared at her hands, still trembling with leftover magic. "Because I'm no longer hiding."
The clearing had stilled, but the tension in the air hadn't faded. Somewhere out there, that woman still watched. Still waited.
"We need to move," Veylan said quietly. "Before more come."
"I know a safehouse nearby," Cassian added. "Old hunter territory. Warded."
For once, Veylan didn't argue.
They moved fast, quiet. Wren walked between them, exhausted to the marrow but unable to stop looking over her shoulder. Every rustle of the leaves sounded like bone fingers scraping bark.
The sky was paling when they reached the edge of the hunter's lands. The cabin was crude but solid, half-sunken into the hill. Inside, the wards lit up as they entered—a soft gold hum under Wren's skin.
Safe. For now.
Cassian threw a blanket over the old sofa and collapsed onto it, wincing as he cradled his side. Veylan lit a small fire with a flick of his fingers, then turned to Wren.
"You need rest."
"So do you."
He didn't argue. But he didn't sit either.
Wren hovered near the fire. Her magic was raw, overused. Her heart was worse.
"You said they know my bloodline," she said. "What does that mean?"
Veylan hesitated. "There are rumors that the Bone Circle marked certain lines long ago. Witches with unique gifts—those who could be useful… or dangerous."
Cassian spoke from the sofa, voice low. "You're both."
Wren let out a shaky breath. "Then I guess they'll be coming again."
Silence fell.
Veylan crossed the room and stood beside her. "We'll be ready."
Cassian didn't say anything. But when she looked over, she saw it in his eyes: he wouldn't leave this time.
Wren nodded, then slumped down onto a threadbare cushion.
Just before sleep claimed her, she felt someone's hand brush hers.
She didn't open her eyes.
She didn't need to know whose hand it was.
It was warm. Steady.
And for tonight—that was enough.