SERAPHINA’S POV
The clearing behind Daniel’s treehouse beca sothing else entirely over the next few days.
No longer just a quiet place tucked away at the edge of Nightfang, it turned into a space that humd with purpose, with tension, with the kind of quiet vigilance that never truly let anyone rest.
If there were another way—if there was even the slightest chance we could avoid whatever lay buried beneath the ruins of the royal line—then I would find it.
And that ant fixing Aaron.
Alois, Corin, and I practiced through the nights, the moon our constant witness, refining the delicate, dangerous work of navigating a fractured mind without further tearing it apart.
Under their guidance, I learned to feel the difference between a mory that could be coaxed back into place and one that would shatter under pressure, to thread my power through the gaps without forcing it or triggering any backlash.
Each session left more drained than the last, but also more confident in my power and skills.
When the ti ca, I was ready.
Aaron was once again seated in the center just as before, though the difference now was unmistakable.
He wasn’t empty anymore. Not completely.
His gaze was no longer blank. It tracked movent, held emotion.
Every ti I stepped into his mind before now, the difference from before was stark.
Where there had once been only scattered fragnts drifting in disarray, there was now structure—fragile, incomplete, but forming.
“Ready?” Kieran’s voice ca from my right.
I turned, eting his gaze.
He hadn’t said anything more about the royal path since that night. Not a word, not even a hint—but it hadn’t disappeared.
I could feel it in him.
In the way his attention sharpened whenever I pushed too far.
In the way his presence stayed just a little closer than before, like he was bracing for sothing.
In the number of tis he’d reassured we could ‘find another way’ if I wasn’t sure.
“I am,” I said.
His hand brushed against mine, a quiet, grounding touch.
“Don’t push past your limit,” he murmured.
I almost smiled. “You sound like Alois.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I intertwined our fingers. “I can do this, Kieran.”
He lifted our joined hands and pressed the back of mine to his lips. I closed my eyes, savoring the flood of electricity that ignited my nerves at his touch.
Wordlessly, he dropped my hand and stepped back.
I turned away and stepped toward Aaron.
The silver rose easily this ti.
It didn’t surge or fight or demand control. Instead, it gently settled into , threading through my veins like a current of energy, connecting to the moon’s pull above, as if channeling its magic in a way that felt natural.
I didn’t need to Shift tonight; Alina’s presence was as strong within as ever.
When I reached Aaron, recognition flickered in his eyes.
“Stay with ,” I said quietly, lowering myself in front of him.
His lips parted, as if he wanted to respond, but no sound ca out. He settled for a sharp nod.
I closed my eyes.
And let go.
The shift into his mind was smoother this ti. Less jarring and disorienting.
The fractured space unfolded around , but it was different now—less chaotic, more...contained.
The fragnts were no longer scattered without aning. They hovered in clusters, connected by faint threads of light that pulsed gently, like a heartbeat.
‘You’ve improved,’ Alina murmured, her presence warm against mine.
‘We have,’ I corrected softly.
Her quiet approval brushed through .
Then I focused.
The outer layers ca first.
mories of movent, of places, of faces without depth—those were the easiest to restore.
The fragnts responded quickly now, flaring to life as I guided them, linking them, reinforcing the old neural pathways that had once existed.
Aaron’s childhood.
His training.
The day he t Imani.
Monts that had shaped him.
Each connection strengthened the structure.
Each success made the next one easier.
But deeper...
Deeper was different.
The resistance began subtly at first—a drag against my awareness, a pressure that hadn’t been there before.
I slowed.
‘Do you feel that?’ I asked.
Yes,’ Alina answered.
The threads ahead of us were...thinner.
I reached out anyway.
The mont my awareness brushed the next fragnt, the space reacted. The fragnt flickered—then dimd.
As if it was being pulled away from .
My focus sharpened.
“No,” I murmured under my breath. “You don’t get to hide.”
I reached again, reinforcing the connection, pushing more of the silver into the thread—
The pushback was stronger this ti.
A force I hadn’t encountered before slamd against my awareness, not chaotic like the fractured mories had been, but controlled, directed.
Like sothing was actively resisting .
My breath hitched.
‘That’s not natural,’ Alina said, tension threading through her voice.
I agreed.
I steadied myself—then pushed.
The silver flared, threading deeper, forcing the connection. The fragnt snapped into place.
And Aaron scread.
I was ripped back into my body so abruptly that the world tilted as air slamd into my lungs and sound rushed in all at once.
Aaron’s body jerked violently in front of , his head snapping back as a raw, broken cry tore out of him, the sound so sharp it cut straight through my chest.
“Stop!” Imani’s voice cracked from sowhere behind .
I pulled back instantly, cutting the connection before the damage could spread further.
Aaron collapsed forward, his breathing ragged, uneven, his entire body trembling as if he’d just been dragged through a field of thorns.
“Kieran—” I started.
“I’ve got him,” he said, already moving.
He caught Aaron before he could slump completely, steadying him, his grip firm but careful.
“Easy,” Kieran murmured. “You’re alright. You’re alright.”
Aaron wasn’t hearing him. His eyes were unfocused again, his chest rising and falling too fast, his body struggling to keep up with what had just been done to him.
I pushed myself back to my feet, my pulse still racing.
“Sothing is blocking the deeper layers,” I said, my voice tight and sharp.
Alois stepped forward, his expression grim.
“I felt it from here,” he said. “That wasn’t natural resistance.”
“Yes,” I said. “And it’s reactive. It pushed back the mont I tried to connect anything past a certain point.”
Imani dropped to her knees beside Aaron, her hands hovering uncertainly before finally settling against his arm.
“Aaron,” she whispered. “Baby, can you hear ?”
His breathing began to slow as he leaned into her touch.
Relief flickered through —but it didn’t last.
Because I could still feel the barrier.
“If we keep forcing it like that,” Alois said quietly, “you’ll break him.”
My jaw tightened. “I know.”
“And not just him,” Corin added. “You’re taking the strain too.”
I wiped a bead of sweat off my forehead. “I can handle it.”
“But he can’t,” Alois pointed out.
No, Aaron couldn’t.
Not if every attempt ant tearing into sothing that was actively fighting back.
Not if each failure cost him more than we could afford to lose.
Frustration built in my chest, sharp and suffocating.
I had co this far.
I was so close, I could feel it.
Just beyond that barrier, there was sothing important. Sothing we needed.
And I couldn’t reach it.
Silence settled over the clearing.
Heavy.
Uncertain.
Then—
“I’ll do it.”
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