Caelum turned, and he didn’t look back to see if we’d follow.

Exactly like Kael.

That quiet, entitled certainty that people would fall in line behind him, or that their steps didn’t matter so long as his led the way. He said he was the High Priest of the Pale Grove. Whatever that meant. He hadn’t bothered to explain it, and I hadn’t asked again.

Was this place the Pale Grove?

I glanced around but found no markers. Just the endless forest pressing in, older than any woodland I’d ever walked. Then I looked back at Fabian. He lingered a beat longer, eyes flickering once, to me, then Damien, before falling in beside his brother.

Before I could decode that look, Damien reached out and took my hand.

My eyes widened in surprise.

He didn’t even look at me or explain. He just held me, like it was nothing, and just like that, I was back in the memory of our kiss.

The taste of rain. The heat of his mouth. The way it calmed the never-quiet part of me.

I forced the thought away and turned my eyes forward.

The forest shifted as we moved. The trees thickened, their trunks wide enough to swallow homes, and leaves large enough to cover rooftops. There was a constant hum of magic in the atmosphere. It bled into the roots and the soil and the sky itself. And it calmed me, deeply, with a sensation that put my mind at ease.

Eventually, the trees broke and everything changed. A vast valley opened before us, sunlit and strange, as if it had been carved from the bones of a forgotten god and left here to bloom in secret.

Homes were built into hillsides and carved from stone with Ivy curled over archways, dripping from rooftops like green silk. Wooden bridges arched over silver-veined rivers. Crystals, actual crystals, sprouted from the ground like wildflowers.

But that wasn’t what made me stop walking. The people were a mix of wolves and witches, side by side.

A woman with moon-blonde hair passed us, a babe wrapped in mossy cloth pressed to her chest. Her mate was a tall, dark-skinned wolf with ash-grey eyes walking beside her, hand resting on the small of her back. Neither of them flinched at the sight of us. No staring or whispers.

Just life, unfolding as if none of this were extraordinary.

Two boys darted past us, laughing. One had already shifted, fur rippling down his spine. The other wore a vine-wrapped bracelet that flickered with small bursts of spelllight as he ran.

There were guards, too. But they weren’t dressed in silver or draped in shadow. Their weapons shimmered with spell-inscribed steel. They didn’t posture or hover. They just watched.

I turned to observe Damien, and although his expression was still as unreadable as ever, I felt his disbelief, and saw the war waging quietly behind his eyes.

We had been raised in a world where witches and wolves were bred to distrust each other, and alliances were forged in caution, not faith. This” whatever this was” defied everything we’d ever been told.

“How long has this place existed?” I asked, my voice barely above the hush of the wind.

“Longer than your dominion has stood,” Caelum said without turning.

Fabian added, “It survived because no one knew it existed. And no one could enter.”

I looked again at the crystal-veined ground beneath my boots. At the bridge. The homes. The children running wild with magic and fur and no fear in their eyes.

I wasn’t sure what frightened me more. That I’d never heard of this place, or that, somehow, I belonged to it.

We reached a curved walkway lined with blooming nightshade and pale flamegrass—pretty names for things that could poison you if you weren’t paying attention. Seemed fitting.

At the end stood a stone-and-wood dwelling, modest compared to the rest but no less beautiful. Two doors. A shared terrace. The guest house.

“For now, you’ll stay here,” Caelum said, motioning toward it with all the warmth of a man assigning rooms in a prison made of flowers.

I glanced at Damien. His hand was still in mine. He hadn’t let go since we crossed into this valley, and I wasn’t sure if it was protection, grounding, or just muscle memory at this point. I didn’t question it.

Inside, the guest house was” quaint.

Warm stone walls, softened by time. Lanterns that were lit and honestly irrelevant with the sunlight streaming in. Woven rugs stretched across the floor, and the scent of lavender and burning cedar curled through the air like a charm meant to lower your guard.

It was beautiful, which, of course, made me trust it even less.

Damien swept the space first, the way he always did, one hand near the knife tucked at his back. He paused at the terrace doors, eyes narrowing at the faint wobble of a ward laced into the frame.

“This place is warded six ways through to keep others out,” he muttered.

“How comforting,” I said, crossing the room but not touching anything. The magic here wasn’t static. I could feel it in the corners, humming under the floorboards, like the house itself was watching us.

Fabian and Caelum stayed near the door, unbothered. Like they’d seen this same reaction a hundred times before and knew exactly how the script ended.

I turned toward them. “Start talking.”

Fabian arched a brow. “About what?”

I folded my arms. “How about the fact that no one, not Kael, not the high priestesses, not even the wolves with all their old bloodlines and sacred titles, have ever been able to enter this place?”

Caelum stepped forward then, slowly. “Because they weren’t supposed to. This place wasn’t meant for them.”

His gaze slid to Damien and it wasn’t just a glance. It was a silent accusation. He didn’t say the words, but I heard them anyway.

People like you.

“And I suppose I was?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer, but his silence was answer enough.

Damien turned from the terrace, arms folded, with a tense stance. “How did you know she was in danger?”

Fabian’s eyes returned to me, softer now. “We felt it. Through the bond.”

“That’s not an explanation,” Damien said, and his tone was a tab bit aggressive.

“It’s the only one you’ll get,” Caelum replied, with a tone that was both flat and cold. He wasn’t bothering with pretence. And from the way he looked at Damien, the dislike was mutual.

“The bond between our kind,” he went on, “isn’t like yours. When it’s mutual, it becomes a conduit. A channel where emotion, energy, and instinct flow. Sometimes even memory.”

I blinked. “You’re saying you could feel the danger I was in?”

Caelum nodded once. “More like sense it. Like something old stirring awake.”

“And you followed it?” I asked.

Fabian’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “No. We didn’t follow it.”

Caelum finished for him. “We were already waiting.”

“How’s that even possible?” I asked, holding his gaze. It was steady, and aloof. Like nothing I said could touch him. Did he even feel anything? Was this unfeeling witch really supposed to be my mate too?

Caelum gave the faintest hint of a smile. “You’ll know soon enough.”

Of course, more vague riddles and half-truths. Still not an actual answer.

I turned toward him fully. “You’re the one in charge here, aren’t you?”

That stopped him. To someone who didn’t know how to look, it wasn’t visible, but I saw it. That flicker in his expression. The pause in his breath. The subtle shift of weight, like I’d just touched something he wasn’t ready to reveal.

“You talk like a partisan,” I went on. “Never answering the question that was actually asked, only offering curated truths meant to steer the conversation.”

Fabian gave a low chuckle. “She’s not wrong.”

Caelum didn’t deny it.

He didn’t need a crown. He wore authority like a second skin, the same way Kael did. The same way every man who thought silence made him holy or powerful or right always did.

“You said I was meant to unify something,” I continued since it was obvious he wasn’t answering me. “That the bond was about undoing the divide.”

Caelum nodded. “When the goddess severed the paths between wolves and witches, she didn’t destroy them. She buried them. And for centuries, they’ve remained buried. Until now.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m supposed to fix a divine mistake?”

His lips barely twitched. “Only if you see it as a mistake. The goddess doesn’t deal in errors. She deals in timing. The wolves and witches weren’t ready to share blood, land, or power. She gave them centuries to figure it out.”

“And I’m her what?” I arched a brow at him.

“You’re meant to finish what she started,” he said. “To reunite what was divided, and restore Anarion.”

I hated how calm he sounded. Even worse, I hated how detached he was.

My hands clenched. “What exactly does that mean?”

Caelum peeked a glance at Fabian before answering. “You were born with both bloods. Witch and wolf. You are the last key. The bond that restores the balance. The living answer to what was severed.”

Fabian’s voice came in quieter behind him. “That’s why the river didn’t kill you. Why its magic bent around you instead of tearing you apart. It recognized you. You belong to both sides.”

“You were never meant to choose,” Caelum added.

I turned to Damien still standing near the door like he was half-present. He didn’t look away from me, but his eyes” that was where the truth lived.

The resignation. It was the same look Kael wore when he realized I’d grown into something he couldn’t control. Something he might have to protect or destroy.

Caelum didn’t make me wait long before he continued. “You want to know why your bond to us didn’t erase your feelings for him,” he said, motioning, barely, to Damien.

My stomach turned. But I nodded.

“It’s because you were never meant to love just one,” Caelum said. “You are both witch and wolf. The Baudelaire line traces back to witchblood, not wolfkind, regardless of what your people believe. If the bond had tethered you to only one side, it would’ve broken you.”

He paused, gaze drifting toward Damien again.

“You need both,” Caelum said quietly. “And from the looks of it” you’ve already chosen him.”

No one spoke after that. They just stood there, three sets of eyes fixed on me, like they were waiting for some grand reaction. Maybe a gasp, protest, or more questions.

But I’d heard enough. I turned and walked out.

The terrace air was cooler now, with that same strange hush in the valley. I didn’t need to look back to know Damien followed. I felt him settle beside me, silent as ever, staring out at the horizon like it might offer a better explanation than what we’d just been handed.

If I hadn’t still had him with me in all this, I wouldn’t have stayed. That much I knew. But I did. And it grounded me more than anything else had.

The twin mates thing, though was a lot. Fabian I could tolerate. Caelum, not so much. He was far too calculating for my liking. The kind of man who spoke in pieces and watched you bleed while you tried to stitch together the meaning.

“Two mates,” I said at last. The words came out flat. “Couldn’t just be cursed with one.”

Damien let out a quiet huff. “You always said the goddess had a dark sense of humour.”

“Yeah, well. Joke’s on me, apparently.”

The silence stretched out again, not awkward, but heavy.

Then, softly: “Do you believe them?”

I looked at him, like really looked. At the man who’d stood by me when no one else would. Who had watched me fall and kept showing up anyway. The man I should’ve been able to choose freely, without divine interference or magical politics. How did I never figure out that he felt the same way about me before?

“I do,” I said, because it was the truth. “I just” don’t feel like myself.”

Damien’s jaw tightened. “Because of them?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Because of everything. Every time I think I’ve finally got a handle on what’s happening, the ground shifts again.”

“I know,” he said it softly, like he meant it.

I looked away, jaw locked tight. “And now they’re telling me I was made to fix a war that started before I was even born.”

He turned to face me. “Luna’”

“Don’t.” My voice cracked harsher than I meant it to. “I can’t take comfort right now. Not even from you.”

He didn’t reach for me, or push. Just stayed there, quietly. Like he always did. Damien had never needed to touch me to remind me he was still here.

“I don’t want to lose what we have,” I said quietly. “Even if fate’s trying to hand me something else.”

“You haven’t lost me,” Damien said, and his voice was rough with restraint. “But I’m not going to pretend this isn’t bigger than either of us now.”

He stepped back now, not far, just enough to give me breathing room. To let me have the space I didn’t know I needed.

“I’ll follow your lead, Luna. Wherever it takes us.”

I didn’t have the strength to thank him. Or scream. Or reach for him the way I wanted to.

So I just stood there. Watching the light fade over a valley I hadn’t earned.

And tried not to wonder which part of me ever truly belonged anywhere at all.