We protect our own.
Always.
Roxy releases my hand and steps forward, putting distance between herself and the protective circle my brothers have formed without conscious thought. Her hands lift, trembling with exhaustion, fingers tracing patterns in the air that leave glowing trails similar to phosphorescence in deep water. The symbols she draws are instinctive rather than trained, raw witch magic pulled from bloodlines older than recorded history, guided by desperation and need rather than careful study or practiced technique.
Nothing happens.
The air doesn’t shimmer.
Reality doesn’t fracture.
The portal that should be forming remains stubbornly absent while Roxy pours everything she has left into magic that refuses to cooperate. Sweat beads on her forehead despite the cold, running in rivulets down her temples as she pushes harder, digs deeper, reaches for power that hovers just beyond her grasp, resembling smoke that dissipates the moment you try to catch it. Her breathing becomes ragged, harsh gasps that speak of strain bordering on dangerous, and still she doesn’t stop, she doesn’t give up, she doesn’t let the impossible nature of what she’s attempting convince her to surrender.
So fucking stubborn.
So fucking fierce.
So fuckingmine.
“Roxy, stop.” My voice cuts through her concentration. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“I can do this!” The words come out through gritted teeth, determination bleeding through every syllable. “I just need…more…” She staggers, her knees buckling as the magic drains her faster than her witch abilities can regenerate what she’s spending.
Scar moves to catch her, but I’m closer, crossing the distance between us in three strides, wrapping my arms around her waist before she hits the ground.
Her skin burns against mine, fever-hot from magical exhaustion, and I sense her heartbeat racing beneath my palm, too fast, too erratic, pushing limits that will break her if she doesn’t stop.
“Roxy—”
“Raze!”My name tears from her throat in a scream that carries more than sound, more than desperation. Her magic surges outward in a wave that makes the air scream, power flooding through her in torrents that should shred her apart but instead find something else to anchor to, something solid and unbreakable that can handle the overflow.
Me.
The connection between us flares to life, that bond forged in captivity and tempered by violence, sealed with blood, fire, and the kind of intimacy that rewrites souls. Her magic pours into me, and I pour strength back, fire and ice spiraling together not in opposition but in harmony, feeding what she needs, supporting what she’s trying to accomplish.
And suddenly, I understand.
The witch’s challenge wasn’t just about controlling fire or balancing elements or proving I’d evolved beyond the monster who burned villages to ash…
It was aboutthis.
About recognizing thatcontentmentisn’t something you achieve alone, it isn’t a solitary state reached through discipline, meditation, or three hundred years of enforced isolation, it’s connection. It’s choosing to let someone else carry part of yourburden and accepting that your strength becomes theirs when they need it most.
Together we are each other’s strength.
The realization hits with the force of revelation, understanding manifesting into certainty that settles like truth I should have recognized instantly. When I saw Roxy in the Seelie Court, chained and defiant, it wasn’t just rage that transformed me into something new. It was her presence, her strength feeding mine, her refusal to break, giving me the anchor I needed to access the voidfire that predates my curse.
She unlocked what I couldn’t reach alone.
Just like I’m giving her the power to do what should be impossible.
We’re not separate entities struggling against fate. We are halves of something greater, fire and ice, rage and balance, dragon and witch bound together in ways the curse never intended but couldn’t prevent.
No matter what her mother says, no matter what ancient laws decree, or what prices must be paid,weare each other’s destiny.
Withher, I havetrue contentment.
Not the absence of fire, but the balance of everything I am, I’ve been, and I could become with this woman beside me.