“Thank you,” he whispered, voice breaking.

  The nymph smiled, then vanished into the night.

  Ra stared at the empty place where she’d been, and suddenly the ache for Shelly was too much to bear. His body and soul cried out for her, for her warmth, her strength, her unwavering grace she offered and he didn’t deserve. He needed her like air. Without thinking, he opened a portal, silver and gold fire twisting in the air, and stepped through.

  He ended up in the familiar cave, the air cool, scented with earth and dragon magic. Shelly was propped up in bed, a book open and upside down on her lap, her eyes closed, her skin too pale. The sight of her, so small, so weary, hit him like a punch to the chest.

  Guilt and longing warred inside him. What have I done? I’ve left her alone when she needed me most. I’ve failed her. Again. The fire inside him was suddenly a different kind of burn, a desperate need to make it right.

  He crossed to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing her hair from her face, so thirsty for even the smallest touch. “Hey,” he whispered, voice raw.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and tears shimmered there. Through the bond, he felt her pain, her exhaustion, her desperate, silent plea for him to make it better. Her soul reached for his, hungry and aching.

  “Don’t ask me about today, it’s too much to explain,” she murmured, voice small and broken. “Just hold me, Ra. Please.”

  He gathered her into his arms, lifting her smaller form, cradling her to his chest. She melted against him, her face buried in his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, trembling with relief and need. He held her as if she might break, as if letting go would mean losing himself all over again.

  He pressed his lips to her hair, his breath shaky. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice choked. “I’m so sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I’m not here with you, taking care of you. I’m supposed to take care of you.” The need to care for her was so strong that he knew it was going to take all of his willpower to leave again. “I want to be sorry for considering Viscious an option when you were in hell, but I would do anything to get you back, and I didn’t feel like I had any other choice.”

  Her fingers curled into his shirt, desperate. “I don’t blame you, Ra. I don’t hold anything against you. I know you’d rather be here with me than anywhere else. I can feel it. Just please, don’t let go. Don’t ever let go.”

  “Never. As long as it is in my power, you will always be mine,” he promised, every word a vow. It was a promise he could easily keep. “You’re my home, Mery. My only peace.”

  For the first time in days, the storm inside him eased. The ache, the guilt, the hunger, they all quieted with her in his arms. He felt her breathing slow, her body relax, her soul wrap around his like a blanket. For a precious, fleeting moment, there was nothing but the two of them–no promises, no kings, no darkness. Just love. Just belonging.

  He held her until she was deep in sleep, and only then did he let himself rest, his own exhaustion finally giving way to a fragile, healing sleep.

  Across Salem, in the darkened window of Blackhorn, Aurora stood watching the garden. She’d seen Ra burning with fire that somehow didn’t even scorch the grass, then speaking with a creature she couldn’t name, then stepping through a shimmering portal and vanishing into nothing. She should be freaking out. A normal reaction would be fear. It was unknown, and shouldn’t be possible, and holy crap the dude could live with fire all over his body.

  Rather than fear, she felt only longing. When the swirling circle appeared in front of him, there had been a pull, deep and aching, as if the world beyond that portal was calling her. It had been so strong that she considered running downstairs and out the door in an attempt to join Ra. But he’d been too quick–there one second and gone the next.

  She pressed her palm to the glass, the lightning flashing, lighting up the darkness every few minutes, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, Ra, Penny and Coredila were right. Perhaps she was meant for more than this broken, storm-soaked world.

  And somewhere in the night, as she crawled back into bed, the thread of her soul trembled, waiting for someone to find it and make her whole.

  CHAPTER 22

  “Well, it’s official. I am a superhero. I always knew one day I’d do something great with my life. I mean, I survived high school mean girls. That means I’m resilient and have some serious perseverance. What I didn’t know was that I’d have incredible powers that would allow me to literally heal the world. Okay, not the whole world. But, like pieces of the world. That’s still pretty freaking cool. I can’t lie, though. I’m a sad superhero. Not because I’m not awesome. I’m literally sad. Ra should be here with me. He should be learning and experiencing this with me. Instead, he’s trying to figure out a way to not break his promise with Viscious and still save Aurora. He thinks I’m clueless, but I know my man. He’s good down to his soul.” ~ Shelly

  The morning after Ra’s visit dawned gray and restless. Shelly woke alone, tangled in sheets that still held a faint trace of his warmth and the scent of smoke and spice that clung to his skin. The ache in her chest was both sharper and softer than before, a wound made fresh by his absence, but eased by the memory of his arms around her. She pressed her palm flat to the mattress where he must have laid down beside her, eyes closed, letting herself feel the echo of his presence for just a moment longer.

  She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, drifting in that half-space between sleep and waking, where the world felt muffled and distant. The cave was quiet, the soul bonded scattered through its halls, everyone moving slowly, no doubt worn out by the work they’d begun the day before.

  When she finally pulled herself out of bed, her body ached in ways she didn’t think it should have because she had magic in her. What’s the point of magic if I’m still going to hurt? she asked herself. She went through the motions of morning: washing her face—water courtesy of Kimba—braiding her hair, and pulling on her boots, each step grounding her in a reality that was anything but ordinary. There was a heaviness in the air, a waiting, as if the earth itself anticipated what was to come.

  By the time Shelly made her way to the main gathering area, the others were already there. Kimba stood at the front, Osiris beside her. She could practically feel their soul bond as if it was a living thing. She had no idea what made her recognize it. Maybe because they were the royals of the fifth element? Shelly felt the strength of it thrum along her own thread. Rory looked as fierce as ever, arms folded, jaw set. Aston hovered behind her, his chest pressed to her back, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Gabby and Liam, always a tangle of limbs and energy, leaned against each other, while Tara and Elias stood quiet and steady, ready to anchor whatever storm might come.

  Kimba’s gaze swept the group, her eyes settling on Shelly with a flicker of understanding—she knew, of course, what it was to ache for a mate, to carry the weight of love and loss and hope all at once.

  “Alright, everyone,” Kimba began, her voice strong but gentle, “before we head back to the Devil’s Heart, I want to remind you what we did yesterday. We’ve slept since then, and we were worn out when we got back. I’m also going to remind you of why it matters. I can see how exhausted you still are. I know it’s hard. I need you to dig deep. But the gate is still damaged, and the darkness seeping through isn’t just staying put—it’s spreading. If we don’t contain it, it won’t stop with the Devil’s Heart. It’ll reach the dragon realm, and then . . .” She let the words hang, the threat unspoken but understood. Who knows how that darkness will affect the dragons? If it corrupted Osiris and he became as evil as he had, she couldn’t even imagine a dragon with all that darkness in them. The massive beasts could destroy everything.

  Shelly shivered, remembering the taste of that darkness when she’d been in the underworld—the way it clung to her skin, wormed its way behind her ribs, clouded her mind, whispering false promises. And that had all been done through Osiris. She didn’t allow herself to look at him as those thoughts filled her mind. Kimba was giving him a chance and obviously felt like he’d changed. Shelly had to let that be enough. That didn’t mean she had to forget what had happened. She needed to learn from it.

  “Yesterday,” Kimba continued, “we tapped into our power as soul bonded. Not just as couples, but as a whole. Shelly,” she said, looking at her,“even without having Ra, you were able to use the power the soul bond gives you. We connected our bonds, focused our magic, and poured it into the rift. You all did beautifully. We weakened the darkness and slowed its crawl, but it’s not healed. Today, we do it again. Only deeper.”

  “Focus on your mate,” Osiris said, his voice low but sure. “But also pay attention to the group. Remember, your power is stronger together. Let the bond guide you. Don’t force it—trust it. The gate responds to intention and unity, not brute strength.”

  Kimba stepped back and, with a flick of her wrist, opened a portal in the center of the room. The air shimmered, folding in on itself until it formed a gateway rimmed with gold with swirling, violet light in the center. The group gathered closer, and one by one, they stepped through, Shelly in the middle, as if her friends knew she needed their closeness since she didn’t have Ra. Her heart thundered as the world warped and shifted around her.

  On the other side, she found herself standing in a forest clearing in the human realm. The trees soared above, ancient and gnarled, their trunks thick with moss and secrets. Sunlight filtered through a thick canopy, but the air here was even colder, heavier, touched by something unnatural. At the center of the clearing, the ground pulsed faintly with a heartbeat that wasn’t quite natural. The rift shimmered there—a wound in the world, black and roiling, edged with a sickly red glow.

  Shelly took her place beside Ra’s empty spot, the ache of his absence a physical thing. She drew a shaky breath, letting the memory of his touch steady her. Rory and Aston stood together, hands grasped tightly. Gabby and Liam’s fingers twined tight as well, knuckles white. Tara and Elias stood so close that they were pressed together from shoulder to hip. They radiated calm that Shelly clung to like a lifeline. Tara had always been so capable. Shelly had never told her friend, but she’d always admired the way Tara rolled with the punches. She’d been dealt a crap hand, and even though she’d stumbled along the way, she kept getting up. When life threw crap at her, she practically dared it to throw more. Tara thought Shelly was the resilient one in their duo, but, really, it was her.

  Kimba raised her hands, palms outward, and the others mirrored her. “Close your eyes,” she said softly. “Find your mate’s thread. Let it hum through you. Then reach out—feel the others. Let your bonds weave together, one by one, until we’re a single web. Don’t rush. Trust the magic.”

  Shelly closed her eyes, feeling for Ra’s thread—distant, but unbroken. She felt the flicker of Gabby’s laughter, the steadiness of Tara’s hope. One by one, the others joined, the web forming an intricate tapestry of color and feeling, love and pain, and a stubborn, relentless pursuit of peace.

  The clearing filled with light—not blinding, but warm, alive. The rift shivered, darkness coiling and hissing as they pressed their magic against it.

  “Now,” Kimba murmured, “focus on the wound. Pour your love into it. Your forgiveness, grace that has not been earned, and mercy that is not deserved. All the light you have. Let it fill every crack, every shadow. This is what it means to heal: giving even when it hurts and being willing to sacrifice for something or someone other than yourself. That is what the soul bond is. Selflessness.”

  The darkness fought back, slithering through their thoughts, dredging up old fears. Shelly’s mind filled with images: the loss of her parents, Ra burning while lost to the fire, herself left behind without him, and a life filled with eternal cold from the loss of his heat. She almost faltered, almost pulled away. She didn’t want those thoughts. Shelly didn’t want to entertain those possibilities for a split second. She hadn’t realized how empty her life had been until she’d found Ra, or he’d found her. His love was a balm that soothed every wound. She didn’t want a life without him.

  But then she felt the bond—his love, his promise, his pain—threading through her, anchoring her. She gritted her teeth, pushed back with everything she had. She wouldn’t let the darkness win. Not today. Not ever.

  The light surged, blinding and beautiful. The rift screamed an ugly, twisting sound, and the darkness recoiled, receding, shrinking back into itself.

  When it was over, the forest was silent, the air charged with magic and exhaustion. The rift was smaller, less angry, but not yet healed. Shelly wanted to cry. How much more would it take? How much more did they have to give?

  Kimba’s shoulders sagged, but her eyes were bright. “You did it. Again. We’re getting closer. One more day, maybe two, and we might actually close it.” Perhaps she saw the ache in Shelly, or maybe the others had the same fears, but Kimba’s face softened as she looked at them and then directly at Shelly. “It’s easy for us to begin to feel hopeless when we’re giving so much of ourselves to something that feels like it will never be finished. That’s why we have to lean on each other–not just our mates, but our friends as well. The bond that is built between people who care deeply for one another and the cause they are fighting for is powerful. Someone to lean on, a hug, laughter over a shared meal, or simply being there for one another in silence, so we know we aren’t alone–these are the things that get us through. And reaching out to Mother Gaia and asking for strength and guidance. We will succeed.”

  Shelly let out a shaky breath as she nodded, finding strength in Kimba’s words. Though her body ached, her spirit steadied her. Her head turned to the right when she felt something bump her. Tara. Her best friend. Her ride or die.

  “I got you, weirdo," Tara said with a smile and twinkle in her eyes. “I’ll be the big spoon when your Egyptian god isn’t around.”

  Shelly laughed as she bumped Tara back. She looked around at the others–at the way they leaned on each other, at the hope flickering in their eyes—and felt, for the first time since Ra left, that maybe they really could do this. That maybe they were enough.

  And somewhere, deep in her soul, she made a silent promise to her mate: I’m not giving up, not on you, not on the crap trying to come through these cracks, not on the demons having a party on earth. I’m not giving in. We’ll figure this out, no matter how dark the road. I refuse to lose you, Ra.

  The portal shimmered shut behind them, leaving the hush of their mountain cave in its wake. Kimba flexed her fingers, feeling the remnants of magic pulse through her veins—an aftertaste of light and aching fatigue. The others trickled off in pairs, muted laughter and soft voices echoing through the winding halls as everyone sought comfort or solitude in their own way.

  She glanced at Osiris, “I need a moment with my other bonded.”

  He ran a hand down her back, a touch that had already begun to feel familiar again. “Okay. I’ll be in our quarters.” His footsteps were quiet as he moved, his gate smooth, as if he glided instead of walked.

  Kimba took her eyes off her retreating mate and turned to look for Rory, who lingered in the shadows near the wide hearth. The fire was low, embers winking like tiny red eyes in the gloom. Rory’s posture was tight, arms crossed, jaw set, but Kimba recognized the storm brewing beneath her skin.

  She approached quietly, easing down beside Rory on the stone bench. “Hey, dragon bonded,” Kimba said, keeping her voice gentle. “How you holding up?”

  Rory snorted, a huff of sound that was half-laugh, half-growl. “Define ‘holding up.’ If you mean not tearing a hole in the universe to get to my sister, then yeah, I’m really nailing it.”

  Kimba grinned. “You could probably do it, too. But I’m kind of attached to this universe, so let’s keep the holes to a minimum?”

  Rory’s lips twitched. “No promises.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, the cave’s quiet wrapping around them. Kimba watched the firelight chase shadows over Rory’s face, saw the worry, the longing, the sharp edge of something softer.

  “She’s safe, you know,” Kimba said, voice barely above a whisper. “Ra and Penny are doing everything right for her. She’s not ready yet, but . . . she’s getting there.”

  Rory’s fingers drummed against her sleeve. “I know. I get it. I want her to have a choice, to be safe. I want her to understand what she’s walking into before she has to face all of this.” She exhaled, shoulders slumping. “But it’s like there’s this ache in my chest I can’t shake. Like part of me is just . . . missing.”

  Kimba squeezed her hand. “She’s your sister. That bond—it doesn’t care about time or distance. It’ll lead her home when she’s ready.”

  Rory nodded, but her gaze was sharp as she turned to Kimba. “There’s something else.” She hesitated, searching Kimba’s face as if weighing every word. “I’ve been feeling . . . darkness. Through our bond. The dragonrider bond. It’s not mine—I know my shadows. This is different. Colder. Older. It’s coming from you, or . . . maybe from Osiris since your bond with him is restored. I need you to be straight with me, Kimba. Can he really be trusted? Does he actually want to be with you? Or is this just another one of those tragic soulmate stories where the bad guy pretends to give a shit and then goes back to the dark side because he likes their cookies more, and leaves the rest of us to pick up the pieces wondering what the hell was wrong with our cookies? Or should I say your cookies? I mean, why wouldn’t he want your cookies? Look at you,” she motioned to all of Kimba. “You’re freaking gorgeous, but it’s not a beauty like the human realm has. You’re something more. If he chooses the darkness over you, I’ll kill him myself. Slowly.”