The inky lines writhed in annoyance.
Her roots held.
“Fae,” I whispered, awed and terrified by the convoluted mix of magic dancing inside her. It was hypnotic and beautiful and so damn wrong. Cerulean sparks bonded to black lines, green flares, purple smoke, and deep red contours. But at the center of it all was a thriving tree, the branches a swirl of color and magic, as the Dark Source tried to penetrate her elemental home with a variety of cruel twists. “She’s fighting it.”
Perhaps not intentionally, but instinctively.
“Her Earth Source is refusing to release her,” I continued, lost to the stunning array of enchantments unfolding inside Aflora.
I’d closed my eyes again, the lightning display absorbing every ounce of my attention.
I was lost to it. To her. To the beauty of the sources dueling and marrying and dueling again. Every time the darkness found a new entrance, a strand of cerulean met the ends and untangled them, my darling little star learning and memorizing spells faster than I’d ever seen.
I felt her tugging on my mind, my power, my energy, and using it to craft and mold her reactions appropriately. So quick and nimble and alluring.
“She’s teaching,” I whispered, still utterly engrossed in the sight before me. “She’s teaching the sources how to join inside her.” That was why it looked like they were fighting then connecting then fighting again. She was finding a way for both powers to exist inside her, to ground herself in Earth and hold onto the dark magic as well.
Temporarily, I thought. This is your temporary solution.
“She’s giving us time,” I told the others, then frowned. “But we can’t stop the ascension.” I voiced that statement out loud and through the bond to Aflora. She didn’t comment, her mind lost to the power engulfing her spirit. I wasn’t even sure if she could hear me. However, she definitely felt me. Just as I felt her tugging on my essence to help ground her.
“No, we can only ensure she survives it,” Kolstov replied. “By passing the initial test.” He paused and I sensed him looking at Zephyrus even though my eyes were still closed. It was a weird sensation, one that confirmed we were truly bonded. At least on the first level. Because I’d saved him, using my blood to bring him back to life. Thereby tying our fates together for eternity.
Perhaps that was why Zephyrus could help me as he did—my ties to Aflora and Kolstov, two of his fully bonded mates.
Blood worked in tricky ways, especially for Midnight Fae.
“It’ll evaluate her relationships, just like it did to me and mine,” he said.
“Which means it’ll involve all of us,” the Warrior Blood inferred.
I’d undergone a similar trial as the source architect. Mine were different from a royal ascension—more convoluted and in the form of puzzles and riddles. Aflora’s would likely be a mix because of her ties to me.
“You had to rely on Tray’s instincts and my sight,” Zephyrus continued. “To make it through the blinding light.”
Kolstov’s responding shiver was palpable—something I again felt more than saw. “Yes.” It came out soft, the memory lurking in his voice. “The source will put her in a situation that won’t allow her to escape on her own.”
That sounded about right. Except my task had been completed alone. Because there hadn’t been anyone for me to rely on—my mating link had been cut off and my father had insisted I master my source ascension by myself.
It hadn’t been easy.
But nothing with the source ever was.
Kolstov blew out a breath and repositioned himself on the bed beside me, causing my eyes to flicker open. He’d pulled on a pair of boxers and nothing else. Zephyrus and Shade remained naked on the other side of Aflora, their concern evident.
“Any second now,” Kolstov said after evaluating the obsidian lines crawling down Aflora’s arms.
I agreed with a nod, the energy seeming to settle around her, preparing for the next phase. It had all passed through me now, leaving her to battle the remainder on her own.
Silence fell as we all held our breaths.
A scratch at the door disturbed the momentary peace. All three men took defensive positions, their wands seeming to appear out of thin air.
“Relax,” I said, aware of who had made the sound.
Zimney.
My arctic wolf familiar nudged open the door with his big white muzzle, then shoved it wider to allow Clove to fly through. The falcon’s wings nearly clipped Zephyrus and Shade as she soared between them to land right beside Aflora.