“It is an answer,” she says simply. “You believe you have achieved balance. The Seelie Court believes they have found your breaking point. I tried to protect her. I wiped her memory so she would be safe from this fate.” Her attention pins me in place, ancient and unyielding. “What happens next will determine whether you have achieved your balance, or the seelies have had the upper hand this entire time.”
Fire and frost surge together beneath my skin, not fighting, not raging, but coiling tight with purpose.
“You’re telling me this is still a damn test,” I ask.
“I am telling you…” she replies, “… that the world is watching to see whether a dragon who finally foundcontentmentwill become a monster again when it is taken from him.”
Wreck stands motionless against the far wall, gaunt frame radiating hunger even now. Coil’s serpentine eyes glow faintly gold as he watches the witch with the wariness of a predator recognizing something higher on the food chain. Maul’s werewolf form has receded, but his muscles still ripple with barely contained violence, ready to transform at the first sign of threat.
Thorn bleeds sap from wounds carved by fae blades, thorns still sprouting from his shoulders in defensive configurations. Ruckus leans against what remains of the bar, gold charms catching light that shouldn’t exist, probability already bending in subtle ways around his small frame. Flux hovers near the door in hawk form, ready to shift and strike if necessary.
Even the prospects stand ready. Rhett’s shadows pool at his feet despite the overhead lights, hellfire flickering behind his eyes in sullen orange pulses. Bennett’s wings haven’t manifested but divine light bleeds from his shoulders in ways that make the air shimmer with potential violence.
We’re prepared to fight her.
All of us.
Every supernatural creature in this room understands that attempting to harm a witch of her caliber is suicidal. But we’ll do it anyway if she tries to keep Roxy from us.
The witch sees this calculation play out across our stances, and something that might be approval flickers through her expression.
“You want her back,” she states, and it’s not a question.
“Yes.” The word comes out wrapped in enough fire to scorch the air.
“Then prove you’ve changed.” Her eyes lock onto mine with the weight of three centuries of curse and consequence. “Control the fire. Balance it with the ice I gave you. Demonstrate that you’ve evolved beyond the dragon who burned everything he touched.” The challenge hangs in the air between us, stark and absolute. “Or we all lose her forever.”
My dragon howls in protest, fire surging so violently that frost explodes across the floor in defensive response. But I force both elements down into an uneasy equilibrium that trembles at the edges but holds.
The witch watches this internal battle with clinical interest before her gaze shifts to encompass every brother assembled in this annihilated clubhouse.
“Protect my daughter,” she says, and for the first time, her voice carries something that resembles vulnerability underneath absolute authority. “Can you do that?”
Scar answers first, his voice carrying the conviction of five centuries lived in shadows. “With our lives.”
Wreck’s hollow rasp follows. “With our lives.”
“With our lives,” Coil hisses, his basilisk tongue flickering.
One by one, every brother in this room echoes the vow. Maul’s werewolf growl, Thorn’s rough-bark voice, Flux’s shape-shifter adaptability, Ruckus’ leprechaun certainty, and even Rhett and Bennett, who can barely stand being in the same room without sniping at each other, speak the words in perfect unison, “With our lives.”
The witch closes her eyes for a breath, and when she opens them again, something ancient and profound stares out from behind that human mask.
“Then go,” she says quietly. “Bring. Her. Home.” She raises one hand, fingers tracing patterns in the air that leave glowing sigils in their wake. Reality fractures along the lines she draws, space folding in on itself with the sound of breaking glass and tearing silk. A portal opens in the center of the clubhouse, swirling with colors that hurt to look at directly, showing glimpses of a fortress built from moonlight and crystallized starfall.
The Seelie Realm.
Where the prince holds Roxy prisoner.
Where my mate waits, trapped and alone, surrounded by creatures who view humans as toys and half-trained witches as prizes to be claimed.
I move toward the portal without hesitation, fire and ice spiraling together beneath my skin in patterns that no longer fight for dominance but work in wonderful harmony. My brothers fall into formation behind me, each one checking weapons, manifesting claws, preparing for the kind of violence that will either end the Seelie Court’s power or end us trying.
Before I step through, I glance back at the witch one final time.
She meets my gaze without flinching. “Bring my daughter home, dragon,” she says softly. “And prove to me thatcontentmentisn’t the absence of fire… but the balance of everything you are.”
I don’t answer with words. I simply step through the portal, my brothers following close behind, and reality swallows us whole.