Vengeance

Chapter 18

Zion, Ewen, and I step back into the clearing, our fingers laced so tightly that it felt as though letting go might splinter the fragile bond we had just forged. The air is heavy with the remnants of our joining—magic still hangs like a storm in the atmosphere, trembling through my chest and prickling along my skin. Even the earth beneath our boots seems to remember the shockwave, carrying a faint hum that thrums in time with my heartbeat.

Ahead of us, the others have gathered. Lettie stands tall, jaw set in that quiet, unyielding way of hers. Elric lingers near her shoulder, his posture tense, eyes flicking over every detail as though assessing the danger still lingering in the air. My mother and Arriana stands on the opposite side, both fixed upon the sight at the center of the clearing. Hela.

She is on her knees, clutching her chest as if she were holding herself together, arcs of raw, untamed magic snapping around her like lightning desperate to be free. The bursts of light catch the tears that stream down her cheeks, making them shimmer like molten silver. For a moment, fear coils tight in my stomach—had we hurt her? Had the unbinding torn something essential away?

But then she lifts her gaze. And when her eyes find us, they softened, even through the streaks of grief and exhaustion. A smile, weary but radiant, blooms across her face.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice unsteady, carrying relief so profound it trembled in the air. “I suppose you won’t be needing those days to think things over, eh?” A shaky laugh breaks from her lips, fragile but genuine. “It seems the fates had other plans for you after all.”

Zion is the first to move. He drops to one knee, strong hands wrapping around hers, grounding her against the surging tide of her own magic. Slowly, he helps her rise, then draws her into a firm embrace, holding her as though anchoring them both in a world that had just been remade. His voice is raw when he speaks, breaking against the weight of it. “We’re free,” he murmurs into her hair, words trembling. “We finally have our magic back… and my soul—” His breath faltes, and he pulls her tighter. “—my soul finally feels lighter. I found a piece of myself in Calista.”

The confession strikes me like a blade wrapped in velvet—sharp but unbearably tender. My chest tightens, and I squeeze Ewen’s hand, drawing strength from his steady warmth.

Hela draws back slightly, her eyes sweeping across us—Zion, Ewen, and me. In her gaze, I see pride, but also something else: worry. The kind that etches lines into the corners of her face, that speaks of truths she wished she didn’t have to voice.

“The bond you share now…” she begins softly, then stops. She presses her lips together, searching for words, before her tone sharpens with clarity. “It will put you in danger. Power like this does not go unnoticed. There will be those who seek to use you, to bind you, to tear you apart before you can become what you were meant to be. And there will be others who will stop at nothing to destroy you outright. You must understand this.”

Her voice rings with authority, not simply as a warning but as a command, the weight of lived wisdom pressing against us. “Your magic will not always be your salvation. You must cultivate more than power—strength of will, of heart, of cunning. These will matter as much as the spells you can weave.”

Her words strikes deeper than any surge of magic could. It felt like a prophecy, or perhaps a reminder I had carried all along in the marrow of my bones. The silence that follows was thick, heavy with acknowledgment none of us wished to name.

I draw in a breath, steadying myself. “I know,” I say finally. My voice comes out low but resolute, steadier than I feel. I let the words linger in the clearing before continuing, forcing myself to meet every gaze that had settled on me. “And I’ve been thinking… Perhaps the next step forward is the Aurelian Academy. Something inside me—instinct, fate, I don’t know what to call it—tells me that’s where we’ll find what we need. Safety, for a time at least. Answers, maybe more.”

I let my eyes sweep the circle: Lettie, her chin lifts in steadfast resolve; Elric, his sharp gaze calculating, ever the strategist; my mother, who meets my eyes with quiet, unshakable strength; and Arriana, her curiosity shining even beneath the shadow of concern. Finally, I look back to Hela, her magic still swirling faintly around her like the embers of a dying star.

“Does anyone have a problem with that plan?” I ask, my words falling into the stillness like stones into deep water.

The clearing hushes, every sound swallowed by the weight of the moment. The decision I had spoken aloud stretched between us, fragile as spun glass, yet undeniable. For the first time since all of this began, the path forward—uncertain, dangerous, but real—gleams ahead of us like a thread of silver cutting through shadow.

And in the quiet that follows, I feel it: hope. Thin, trembling, but alive.