Morning came with a hush.
Ronan woke to the scent of jasmine and smoke, her body curled against his like a spell still unfolding. Selene slept with one hand resting on his chest, her breath steady, her skin warm where it touched his.
He should have felt peace.
Instead, he felt watched.
He eased up slowly, careful not to wake her. Outside the hut, the air was thick—like the forest had changed its rhythm overnight. He glanced up. The birds weren’t singing. The light had a coppery tint, strange and too still.
Behind him, Selene stirred.
“You feel it too,” she murmured.
He turned. “What is it?”
She sat up, reaching for the robe of shadow-cloth that shimmered around her shoulders. “A tether has been formed. Between us.”
Ronan’s mouth went dry. “From last night.”
She nodded. “Not just flesh. Magic. Something deeper answered us.”
“Can it be undone?”
Her eyes narrowed—not with anger, but uncertainty.
“I could try,” she said. “But I don’t know what it would cost.”
They stood in silence, the fire now embers between them. Outside, something howled—faint, distant, but unnatural.
Ronan reached for his sword.
“You won’t need that here,” Selene said.
“I don’t trust a place where steel’s useless.”
Selene smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Then you’re in the wrong part of the world.”
A shimmer of light flickered near the edge of the glade—then another, like sparks in the air. Not fireflies. Watchers. Spirits bound to the forest’s heart.
“They’ve sensed the bond,” Selene said, stepping beside him. “They’ll tell the others.”
“What others?”
She looked at him, voice tight.
“Fae courts. Shadow kings. And those who hunt godblood.”
Ronan’s grip tightened on his sword. “So this—us—it’s a beacon?”
Selene nodded once. “You’ve been quiet too long, Ronan. Last night? That was the forest breathing again. And when Velwyn breathes, the world listens.”
A silence fell between them again. This time not out of discomfort, but understanding.
They had woken something.
And it would not go quietly back to sleep.