“Are you a member of the coven too?” Fern asked, her voice more confident than Aurora felt.

  “I am not,” Ra said as he turned his dark eyes on her foster mom. “I am a member of an academy. It’s a special school for special people.”

  “I knew Hogwarts couldn’t be made up,” Aurora whispered, her mind seeming to grasp for anything that felt familiar to ground her in the here and now. And she’d read that series about a million times. Whatever Ra was about to say might feel less scary if she could compare it to Hogwarts. Wait, that was sort of stupid considering the bad guy in that series was pretty freaking awful. If real life was anything like that, things were about to get bad.

  “No,” Ra shook his head. “It’s not a witchcraft school. It’s an elemental school.”

  “Oddly,” Penny interjected, holding up a finger, “elementalists work with nature and so do witches. It’s strange that we aren’t allies.”

  Ra shook his head, his face going completely blank. “Witches work with more than just nature, and what they do work with, they twist.”

  Penny’s head whipped around, and she stuck a finger at Ra. “Hey, you cannot go holding what my idiot coven members did over my head. I was not a part of that. And neither was Cordelia. We’re on team good guys. Besides, who’s the one with demon eyes?” Penny pursed her lips. “Not me.”

  Cordelia raised her hand. “Not it.”

  Once again, Aurora felt the need to throw in her two cents. “Not me either, or her,” she pointed to Fern. “We’re demon-eye free. Have been my whole life. Can I get off the train now?”

  Penny looked back at her. “Train?” Her brow furrowed.

  Aurora nodded. “The crazy one you brought me on when you invited me back over.”

  Cordelia and Penny both laughed, and Ra’s lips twisted ever so slightly, as if he was amused as well.

  “My Shelly will like you,” he said, his voice softer.

  “Your Shelly?” Aurora asked. “Is she like, your pet? And if so, why on earth am I going to meet her?”

  “Oh snap,” Penny laughed again, this time slapping her leg. “I can’t wait to tell your bonded that she was called your pet.”

  Ra glanced at the brunette. “She will find it amusing and turn it into something inappropriate.” This time Aurora thought she heard exasperation mixed with amusement in his voice.

  “So, not a pet?”

  “No,” Ra shook his head. “She’s my,” he paused and seemed to struggle to find a word to describe what she was. “Well, I suppose until you understand everything, I should call her my wife. It’s a weak description of what she truly is to me, but it will suffice for now.”

  “Weak is putting it mildly considering she houses part of your soul,” Penny muttered.

  “I feel like we need to regroup and focus,” Cordelia said, motioning her hands in a way that encompassed the room. “We invited them here for a reason. Let’s get to it.”

  “Right,” Penny nodded, getting more serious. “What we’re about to tell you may seem impossible, but we are going to show you some things to help back up our claims. We need to ask you for two things.”

  “What things?” Fern asked.

  “Don’t panic, and give us a chance to explain before you dismiss us and leave,” Penny said, her brow raised expectantly.

  Aurora looked at her foster mom. Fern’s eyes narrowed as they bounced from Cordelia to Ra and then to Penny. Finally she nodded. “Okay then. We will be calm,” she reached over and took Aurora’s hand. “And we will wait for an explanation.”

  “Excellent,” Penny smiled. “Okay, so, I’m actually a witch, and so is Cordelia. We can do magic. Ra is an elementalist. But I’ll let him speak for himself. Just please know that we don’t mean you any harm. We just want to help you and keep you safe.”

  “As she said,” Ra spoke up, “I’m an elementalist and one of my elements is fire. He held out his hand and flames suddenly appeared. They didn’t just move like fire–the flames took on a shape and suddenly she was watching a cat, made of fire, walk around Ra’s palm, circling until it curled up and seemed to go to sleep. Then it vanished.

  “What the what?” Aurora breathed out, the air feeling like it had been sucked from her lungs.

  “Oh dear,” Fern said, her hand resting over her heart.

  “My other element is a little harder to explain. It’s a fifth element, not known to humans. It’s called a soul bond. It means I have a soulmate–Shelly. With that element come certain responsibilities and abilities. I’m still learning about them, and I’m afraid I don’t really have a way to show you what that looks like, not like I can with my fire.”

  “To recap,” Penny said, sounding very much like a teacher. “Witch, witch,” she pointed to herself and Cordelia and then Ra, “Weird elemental dude with some morally grey tendencies despite his good heart, hence the black eyes.”

  Ra glanced at Penny, who simply blinked at him and shrugged. “What? I’m just speaking the truth. You don’t have to like it.” Then she looked back at Fern and then Aurora. “So, how we doing? Want to go screaming out into the storm yet?”

  Fern just stared, her eyes blinking a little comically, her skin a tad pale.

  “To be honest, I’m still stuck on the fire cat,” Aurora said, looking at Ra.

  “Fair,” Penny sighed. “That’s a little cooler than me saying I’m a witch. But, I can actually do some pretty cool spells.”

  Ra sat back in his chair and laid the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other. “It’s not a competition.” Then he added, “But if it was, I’d win.”

  Penny sputtered. “Did you just make a joke? Does your soul bonded know you have jokes? I feel like this is something we should get on video. Can you say it again? Like the whole thing.” She started to pull out her phone until Cordelia snapped her fingers.

  “Focus, Penny. Geeze. Did you take your medicine this morning, or are you drinking those energy drinks again?”

  Penny rolled her eyes. “I’m not drinking anything. You’d understand if you’d been around Ra for more than a couple of hours. His sense of humor leaves much to be desired.”

  “Moving on,” Ra said, ignoring the two women. “Aurora, Cordelia mentioned to Penny that when she met you, she felt strange energy coming off of you. Not quite a witch energy, but not something she could put her finger on, either. I have a theory of what it is. It’s a bit of a long story, but will you hear me out?”

  Aurora nodded. Again, her trust of this man baffled her, but it seemed to override her fear of him. So for now, she’d roll with it.

  He began to tell her about this unseen world: elementals, the royals of nature, Mother Gaia, the kids whose parents were killed and how they were Marks for the elementals, light and dark. These kids grew up and had power over whatever element they possessed. His academy trained them how to use that power. On and on he spoke, and Aurora’s eyes widened, her heart sped up, and her palms began to sweat. She’d lost her parents in a terrible accident. Was she like the kids he spoke of? Was that why he was here now? Was it why she felt drawn to know about the witches, because the magic in them called to some sort of magic in her?

  When he was finally done speaking, he stared at her, waiting. She wasn’t sure if he expected her to freak out, or tell him he was crazy. Neither of those things were her reaction. To her surprise, even Fern was calm, though there was a slight tremble in her hands where they rested in her lap.

  “Would that explain why I feel like I’m split in two? Like there’s a part of me somewhere else, and it’s calling for me, and I can almost hear it?” Aurora didn’t know why those were the words that came out of her mouth, but she’d been dying to ask that question to someone. Until now, there’d been nobody that she could, not without sounding insane. “Is my soul torn?”

  CHAPTER 21

  “I’ve never run from a fight. I’ve always been the one running into it. For the first time, I want to grab my soul bonded and turn in the opposite direction from all the calamity and forget everything but her. I want to drown myself in her scent, her taste, and everything about her that makes me whole.” ~ Ra

  Ra leaned forward, elbows on his knees, every line of his body intent. Aurora’s question, “Is my soul torn?”, hung in the air, fragile as spun glass. For a moment, the fire at his core flickered uncertainly. He remembered when he’d walked into the room and felt her power: that echo, that pull, like a melody played on a string that had once been whole and now sang in two places at once.

  He met her gaze, letting the blackness of his eyes show her he was not afraid of the truth. “Yes,” he said, quiet, honest. “That’s exactly what it is. When your parents died, you were just a baby. That kind of loss, it’s not just grief. It’s like a thread gets snapped. Your soul . . . it split. Part of it was destroyed because of the darkness that was the cause of your parents’ death, but enough stayed to keep you here.” He saw her shiver, but she didn’t look away.

  “And now?” Aurora asked, voice barely a whisper. “Why do I feel it so much more right now?”

  Ra’s lips pressed together. “Because you’re coming of age. There are times in a Mark’s life when the magic inside them stirs. It’s like the world is asking if you’re ready to step into who you’re meant to be. That’s happening to you. You’re not just sensitive to magic, Aurora. You’re a potential Mark. And yes, one day, you will have a soul bonded of your own, a mate who makes you whole again. That’s why we’re here: to help you survive this, and to help you choose your own path.” How the hell he was going to make that happen, he had no clue. As Ra looked at the child before him, he couldn’t imagine delivering her to Viscious. He couldn’t. He felt a stabbing sensation in his heart, a reminder of his promise. Even thinking of breaking it was dangerous. The magic was reminding him. He was bound.

  The room had gone very still. Penny was watching Ra with a strange, soft smile. It was sort of creeping him out. Ra didn’t like any female’s eyes on him other than Shelly’s. Cordelia’s eyes glistened, pride and worry mixing in the depths. Neither stare was with desire. They saw him as a comrade, a friend, with the same goal.

  Fern squeezed Aurora’s hand. “See, honey? You’re not broken. You’re just,” she paused, seeming to look for the right word, “becoming.”

  Aurora looked at Fern. “You’re not freaked out? I mean, last night you said that you were keeping an open mind, but I thought maybe you were just trying to stay calm for my sake.”

  Fern smiled, her eyes filled with love. “I know truth when I hear it, and I’ve been around long enough to have encountered true evil in the world–and true goodness.” She turned and looked at Coredila, Penny, and then Ra. “While we all have battles with the darkness, because we are not perfect, we can overcome it–me with my creator, and you with yours.”

  It was one of the rare moments Ra felt hope spark in the darkness.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of gentle questions and hesitant laughter. Penny showed off a few harmless spells; levitating a teacup, turning a handkerchief into a flapping paper bird. Cordelia brewed tea that smelled of rosemary and honey, filling the house with warmth. Aurora soaked it all in, her wariness slowly giving way to a cautious curiosity.

  As dusk fell, Penny glanced at Fern. “You both should stay the night. It’s not safe to travel in the storm, and there’s a spare room upstairs. We’d love for you to be our guests.”

  Fern hesitated, but Ra nodded, his voice steady and firm. “It’s for the best. The storm’s only going to get worse, and, well, I’d sleep better knowing you’re under this roof tonight.” He didn’t say, “knowing you’re where I can protect you,” but the words were there, unspoken.

  Fern and Aurora agreed, and Penny led them away. Ra watched them go, the weight of responsibility pressing in.

  He could feel his mate’s longing from across the realms. Shelly’s presence tugged at him, gentle and insistent, more reliable than the sunrise. He didn’t have the heart, or the courage, to face her in person, not when he was so tangled up in darkness. Instead, he slipped away to the quietest corner of the house, pulled out his phone, and dialed her number.

  She answered on the first ring. “Ra,” she breathed out, sounding relieved.

  Her voice was tired but sweet, the sound of home. “Hey, Mery,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I miss you.” Ra didn’t show emotion often, but with Shelly it was easy. She was his and he was hers. All that he was belonged to her–until, of course, he made a ridiculous bargain with the dark fire king. “I love you,” he added, because he didn’t want her to ever doubt it for a moment, so he’d tell her often.

  “I love you,” she said almost shyly, “ And I miss you, too. It was a long day. Are you safe?”

  Ra let out a breath, wishing he could say yes. “I’m as safe as I can be. I just wish I was there. I wish I could hold you. I feel like I’m half a man when I’m not with you.”

  He heard her soft laugh, sleepy and sad. “You’re never half of anything, Ra. Not to me. But you don’t have to fix the world alone. You have me. You have our friends. You’re not alone, Baby. Don’t let the darkness convince you otherwise.”

  Her reassurance was a balm, and for a moment, he almost believed it. They said their goodnights, and Ra stared at the phone long after the call had ended, clinging to her words like a lifeline. He had to be careful not to break the device and finally loosened his grip.

  But the night brought no peace. Penny had shown him to a room he could use. He’d laid down, fully clothed, even leaving his shoes on. The idea of undressing made him feel vulnerable. It was a feeling he despised. When sleep finally claimed him, it was shallow, restless. The darkness pressed in, thick and suffocating. In his dreams, he found himself in a place that was neither here nor the underworld; it was a grey wasteland, sand swirling at his feet.

  Ramses lurked just beyond the veil, his presence ancient and familiar. “Fight him, Ra. Don’t let him in. You are more than this curse. You are more than darkness.”

  But Lucifer slithered through the cracks, oily and cold, his voice a caress that felt like knives. “Let me in, little king. I can ease your burden. Just a taste. Just a slice.”

  Ra tried to shut him out, but exhaustion made his mind slippery, the walls that had been strong, thin. That’s when another presence crashed in. Viscious, the dark fire king, his power brutal and raw, lit up Ra’s mind with burning chains.

  “Remember your promise,” Viscious snarled, his voice like an inferno. “You are mine, Ra. You serve me. Bring me the girl. I can feel her power through you. She could be a soul bonded. She is mine by right. Quit wasting time and do what you swore you would.”

  Viscious clawed at Ra’s memories, greedily soaking up every image of Aurora, every flicker of her light. The more he saw, the more he wanted. Ra fought to hold back, but his body burned with frustration, power surging, desperate for release.

  He woke with a gasp, sweat soaking his skin, the taste of ash in his mouth. The fire inside him was a living thing, raging and wild, but it felt wrong, tainted, poisoned by the touch of Viscious and the echo of Lucifer’s hunger. He stumbled from his room, finding the backdoor. Practically ripping it off its hinges, he hurried outside, into the chill of the night. The rain, shockingly, had stopped, though he could still smell it in the air and feel the power of the lightning in the sky. The storms weren’t over, they were simply resting, regrouping for another attack on nature.

  The agony was unbearable, a thousand knives beneath his skin, every nerve ending screaming for release. The blood bond burned, the memory of Viscious’s demand twisting his insides until he thought he might shatter. He felt stretched between worlds, between promises, between who he was and who he feared he might become.

  Ra closed his mouth from the roar he barely managed to keep inside as he raised his fists to the sky. The fire erupted, not in a controlled, gentle blaze, but a wild, desperate torrent, pouring from every pore, every breath, every wound. Flames leapt from his skin, licking up his arms, crawling over his chest and back, encasing him in an inferno of his own pain.

  He let the agony have him, let it burn through every memory, every guilt, every promise he’d ever made. His power flared so bright that the world went white for a heartbeat, but nothing around him caught, nothing turned to ash. The fire was his, but it was also his prison. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t run, couldn’t fight; he could only burn.

  He dropped to his knees, head bowed, shaking with the force of what he held inside. His mind was a battlefield, the promise to Viscious echoing like a curse, every longing for Shelly a plea for mercy.

  He pressed his fists to the earth, desperate to ground himself, to remember who he was. For a long moment he just breathed–each inhale a struggle, each exhale a ragged surrender. He was so tired. So damn tired of being pulled in a thousand directions, of being bound to a dark king unworthy of anyone’s loyalty, of being separated from his mate, of being unable to share the burden with his brothers. He was simply exhausted.

  He was still shaking when a movement caught his eye, a flicker of green and gold. From the mossy roots at the edge of the trees, a tiny figure emerged. She was no bigger than his hand, with hair like woven grass and eyes like dew. A wood nymph. She floated up on a breath of wind, her voice like a bell.

  “You fight bravely, young king,” she said, her tone gentle but strong. “You are not alone. We are all fighting, even if you cannot see us. The light is with you, and the earth remembers your name. Do not lose hope.”

  She brushed his cheek with a touch lighter than a breeze, and Ra felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with fire. For a moment, the pain eased, replaced by a fragile sense of belonging.