Chapter 15 – The Tower Burns

The first wave came just after sunrise.

Silent. Deadly. Precise.

Three figures in black scale armor crept across the rocks like shadows, bows drawn, blades strapped to their backs. Their faces were hidden behind metal masks shaped like wolves, fangs etched into the mouths.

Silent Hand.

Cael spotted them first.

He grabbed Seren's wrist and yanked her down behind the shattered stone window.

"Three coming from the south slope," he said. "They'll breach the lower floor in under a minute."

Seren's heart was pounding, but not from fear.

Not anymore.

The bond surged inside her chest, humming like a live wire. Her hands tingled, the magic already rising like it wanted to be used.

She nodded once. "Let's give them a reason to run."

The first assassin breached the tower silently, slinking through the collapsed archway with a blade already drawn.

Seren stood in the center of the room, waiting.

She didn't raise her hands.

She didn't blink.

She just whispered a word she didn't fully understand.

The assassin froze mid-step.

His weapon fell from his fingers.

And then he screamed.

Blood poured from his ears.

He collapsed without a touch.

Cael appeared behind her, blade spinning in one hand.

"He was a scout."

"More will follow."

"They're not just testing us," Cael said. "They're trying to draw the baby out."

Seren's eyes narrowed. "Then let's show them what happens when you chase something you don't understand."

The second wave was louder.

Four hunters. Two vampires, a hybrid, and a wolf. Coordinated. Experienced. One of them shouted orders in a language older than Pack Tongue.

Cael leapt from the top of the staircase like a falling star, blade flashing silver in the rising light. He landed in the middle of the group and drove his knife into the first hunter's chest before anyone had time to react.

The hybrid lunged.

Cael ducked, slammed his elbow into her spine, and kicked her off the ledge.

Seren moved through the lower floor like a ghost, hands glowing, magic rising with each breath. The second vampire made the mistake of meeting her eyes.

She didn't cast a spell.

She just looked at him.

And his body folded in on itself, like gravity had been rewritten.

They fought for almost an hour.

Wave after wave.

No rest. No pause.

Just steel, blood, and magic.

The tower walls cracked with each blast of energy. Stones crumbled from the roof. The air grew hot, heavy with dust and sweat and the iron-salt scent of death.

Seren's vision blurred more than once.

But she didn't fall.

She couldn't.

The baby was awake now—alive inside her like a second soul. Its heartbeat echoed through her bones. It wasn't crying.

It was watching.

Learning.

Becoming.

Then came the silence.

A break.

Cael stumbled into the upper chamber, blood across his shoulder, eyes burning.

"They're falling back."

Seren knelt beside him, pressing her hand to his wound.

"We need to leave."

"They're regrouping," he said. "The next wave won't be small."

"Lucan?"

"Not yet."

"But soon."

Cael nodded once, breath ragged.

"I'll hold them," he said.

Seren froze. "What?"

"You take the north slope. Move fast. Get to the Hollow."

"You think I'm leaving you here?"

"You don't have a choice."

She stood up. "No."

"Seren—"

"No!"

Her voice cracked.

"Don't ask me to run from this. Not now."

His eyes softened.

"I'm not asking," he said. "I'm telling you what I need."

Her heart twisted.

"I just found you."

"And I'm not dying," he said. "But if we stay, all three of us go down. You know that."

"I won't leave you," she whispered.

His hand slid to her cheek.

"I'm in you now," he said softly. "No matter what happens, I don't leave."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

He kissed her once.

Soft.

Desperate.

Final.

She left just before the sky turned red.

North slope.

Fast steps.

No looking back.

She carried a child.

And a bond.

And the fire of everything they were trying to kill.

Behind her, the tower began to burn.

The Council had brought dragonsblood oil.

They didn't want to fight anymore.

They wanted to cleanse.

The heat followed her like breath on her neck.

She didn't stop.

Didn't cry.

Didn't scream.

She just ran, feet bleeding, heart torn in two.

The bond was still there.

Still tethered.

But weak.

Thin.

Flickering like a candle.

Cael was alive.

But not for long.

Not if she didn't act.

She made it to the Hollow by nightfall.

Collapsed near a ruined altar she remembered from her childhood.

She laid there, hand on her belly, blood on her cloak, shaking.

The stars flickered overhead.

The baby moved.

Then a voice—soft, ancient—echoed in her skull.

"You must choose."

She sat up fast.

"What?"

"Love or fire. One protects. One destroys."

"No," she whispered.

But the baby stirred again.

Faster.

Fiercer.

And in her bones, she knew.

This was the moment the prophecy warned about.

"Not from love…"

She looked toward the flames rising in the distance.

Toward Cael.

Her love.

"…but from fire."

Seren stood.

Her legs ached. Her ribs screamed. Her magic was scattered.

But she stood.

And whispered, "Then I choose both."

She drew a circle in the dirt.

Spoke the old tongue.

And called something forgotten.

The ground trembled.

The baby kicked.

And the stars blinked.