I made it back to my quarters alone.
The bond’s absence felt like frostbite—no pain at first, just numbness so deep I could barely register movement. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the agony to arrive.
It came in waves.
When I finally slept, I dreamed of a child I had never held, crying in a place I could never reach.
---
At dawn, I went to the ancestral shrine.
The flame that housed my father’s spirit was dimmer than I had ever seen it, flickering weakly against the encroaching shadows.
“I’m here,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to the altar stone. “I haven’t left you. Not yet.”
The crystal pulsed faintly.
Not enough.
Kael had been telling the truth. Once the mate-bond was severed, my authority over the shrine had begun to fade. I could feel it—like slipping fingers trying to hold water.
I had seven nights.
After that, Papa would be gone.
There was only one path left to me.
The one I had sworn never to walk.
I activated Nicero Blackfang’s sigil just before the border wards closed for the day.
His projection appeared almost immediately, dark hair loose around his shoulders, the faint glow of territorial magic outlining his form.