-Soren-
The moment Alexia dismissed me to go "darker," my first priority wasn't surveillance; it was securing her. Not just physically, but mentally. The tension coiled tight in her shoulders, the barely contained tremor of her chaos magic, was more dangerous than any spy.
I left the Observatory Annex and melted into the deepest shadows of the campus perimeter, running a full, silent sweep of the area. No one—not Rowan, not the spy student, not any Council delegate—was getting close to Alexia tonight.
By the time I returned to our private suite in the north wing, the scent of woodsmoke and a faint, savory spice hung in the air. Finn had already secured the room and started dinner. He was by the hearth, stoking the fire, his energy a solid, calm heat that always anchored my shadow.
Alexia was in the small sitting area, still wound tight. She had changed out of her tactical leather and into a soft, dark shirt, but her silver eyes were fixed on the dancing chaos of the fire, clearly planning her next twenty moves.
I crossed the room and placed my hands firmly on her shoulders. "Stop. You're going to burn a hole in the rug."
She leaned back into my touch, a weary sigh escaping her lips. "I can't. We have a traitor, Soren. I need to know if Rowan is compromised, or if he's the key to finding the real enemy. I need to be five steps ahead of Magnus."
Finn turned from the fire, setting a steaming mug on the low table before her. "Magnus can wait an hour," he rumbled, his voice rough but gentle. "You taught five vulnerable students to shield their magic tonight, while also running counter-espionage. We eat, we talk about anything but charms, and then we sleep."
His authority wasn't a command; it was a protective shield, one I was grateful for.
I sank onto the couch beside her, pulling her close so her head rested against my chest. Her chaos magic, which usually snapped with a fierce independence, softened and pooled against my shadow like cool water. Finn settled on her other side, his big hand covering her knee, completing the mate bond's protective circuit.
This was the solace I craved. Not the grand, world-saving battles, but these quiet moments where we simply existed as a unit. Our bond wasn't just power; it was a promise of peace.
"Tell me about your patrols, Finn," Alexia murmured, her tension slowly starting to ease under our combined weight.
"Calm," he said, shifting to draw the mug closer to her. "The shifters were sharp tonight. We ran drills until their scales were aching. They're ready for more aggressive training. They need a target to hit."
"Soren," she countered, tilting her head up to look at me. "Tell me something good you saw tonight. No spies."
I smiled faintly, running a finger along her jaw. "I saw Zeus chase a moth for a solid ten minutes near the library steps. It was a humiliating, fruitless pursuit."
The small, tired laugh she gave was the first true moment of lightness I'd heard from her all day.
Finn brought over a plate of stew he'd warmed—thick, savory, and grounding. We ate slowly, talking about the shifting techniques, the subtle changes in the night air, anything ordinary enough to push the Council out of our shared mental space.
As we finished, Alexia's breathing deepened, and the silver glow around her eyes dimmed. She was on the verge of exhaustion, but her spirit felt calmer.
"Okay," she whispered, leaning into my chest again. "One hour of peace. Then we figure out how to trace that faint student signature, and we make a move on Rowan."
"Agreed," Finn said, his eyes darkening with sudden focus. "But before that… there's something I need to show you both."
He stood, his dragon energy swelling in the room, not with impatience, but with a steady, fierce love. He wasn't reaching for a sword or a map. He was reaching for something far more important.
"I found a loose thread of Gideon's old influence on the main ward," he admitted, his voice low. "I fixed it, but not just with dragon fire. I wove all of us into the new knot. Our bond. I need you both to see it, and confirm the repair."
He held out his hands to us, a silent request to step away from the politics and the paranoia, and simply stand together.
This was what I lived for: the reminder that even in the shadow of war, we were building something stronger than ever before.
Alexia took his hand, and I took hers, forming a chain. We slipped out of the suite, moving silently through the moonlit halls toward the school's central nexus point.
The nexus was a ring of ancient standing stones hidden in a courtyard alcove, where the school's power was channeled. The air here was vibrating. Finn released our hands and pressed his palm against the central stone. His dragon-fire, usually a torrent, was controlled, warming the granite.
"Look closer," he instructed.
Alexia activated her chaos sight. I deepened my shadow sense. Where the ward had once been a shaky line, Finn had woven a new structure. It wasn't just magic; it was an architecture of emotion: a strong, solid braid of my shadow, Finn's dragon heat, and the silver threads of Alexia's chaos. It pulsed with a combined, unbreakable light.
Alexia let out a soft sound of awe. She lifted her hand and pressed it next to Finn's, weaving a few final, stabilizing strands of her power into the knot. The ward accepted the energy instantly, humming into powerful silence.
Finn turned, pulling her into his chest with a low growl of approval. I moved close, wrapping my arms around both of them. We stood there, our three energies intertwined, stronger than any magic the Council possessed. This was the fortress.
"Unbreakable," Alexia whispered, her silver eyes dark with peace.