The forest felt colder now.
Not because the temperature had dropped, but because Meisha's body was fighting the toxins threading through her veins. Every step sent a pulse of pain up her arm, radiating from the magic‑suppression bracelet like fire beneath her skin.
She pressed her wrist against her chest, trying to steady her breathing as she moved through the trees. The path she normally walked with ease now felt twice as long, the shadows twice as heavy.
Nichelle's final words echoed in her mind.
"Tell Kaydence that his father has been tasked with investigating the death of your mother."
The shock of it had nearly made her stumble. Even now, her thoughts kept circling back to it, threatening to pull her under. But she forced herself to stay focused. She couldn't afford distraction — not with a grand moose roaming the forest, not with guards patrolling the estate, not with the Duke and his Proxy newly arrived.
She needed to get back. She needed to hide the pain. She needed to protect Kaydence.
The trees thinned as she neared the estate's outer grounds. The hidden passage lay ahead — an opening in the collapsed section of the outer wall, half‑concealed by overgrown vines and ivy, and a crawl opening no one bothered to check on.
She entered the crawl space leading her into a secret underground tunnel with scattered stacked boxes and crates.
Meisha paused behind a cluster of boxes as she walked down the tunnel, clutching her wrist as another wave of pain surged through her. Her knees buckled, and she caught herself against the side of a storage crate, biting back a cry.
"Not now… not now…" she whispered through clenched teeth.
She forced herself upright, leaning heavily on the wooden crate until the worst of the pain ebbed. Her breath came in shallow bursts, but she pushed forward, slipping through the brush until she reached the storage room of the hidden passage.
The corridor of the estate loomed outside the door — silent, imposing, unaware of the storm gathering beneath its roof.
Meisha pressed her palm against the cool stone, searching for the loose slot that triggered the latch. Her fingers trembled, but she found it. The latch shifted with a soft click, and Meisha cracked the door open just enough for her to slip out into the corridor.
She cast one last glance over her shoulder — toward the door of the storage room, toward the danger beyond the tunnel and the wall, toward the truth Nichelle had left her with.
Her journey back had only just begun.
Kaydence sat cross‑legged on Meisha's bed, eyes closed, breath steady. Meditation was the only thing keeping his mind from spiraling. She had gone back into the Nykon Forest — again — and though he trusted her strength, the forest was unpredictable, especially now.
He focused on the rhythm of his breathing, letting his senses expand outward the way he'd been trained. Threads of awareness stretched through the walls, the corridors, the stone of the estate itself.
He could feel it — the slow return of his power. His physical body had mostly healed, and with that healing came the gradual rekindling of his abilities. Good timing, too. He had sensed the arrival of the Duke and his Proxy the moment they stepped through the estate gates, their presence like cold iron pressing against the edges of his awareness.
But his radius of detection was still weak. Frustratingly weak.
If he were fully healed, he would have been able to monitor Meisha while she was in the forest. He would have known exactly where she was, what danger she faced, and he would have freed her from this place days ago.
The limitation gnawed at him.
He pushed deeper into meditation, trying to sharpen what little reach he had left.
Then — A flicker.
Her presence.
Faint at first, then sharp, jagged around the edges.
Kaydence's eyes snapped open.
She was upstairs. In the corridor. Moving toward the door.
And she was in pain.
He rose immediately, the calm of meditation dissolving into a cold, focused urgency. He moved to the bottom of the steps, posture tense, senses locked onto her like a tether.
The door creaked open.
Meisha stepped inside, closing it behind her with trembling fingers. Her breath was shallow, her skin pale, her arm clutched tight against her chest. The toxins from the bracelet were crawling up her veins, dark and branching beneath her skin.
She turned — saw him — relief flickering in her eyes.
"Kayde—"
She didn't finish.
Her knees buckled. Her body swayed.
Kaydence surged forward just as she collapsed, catching her before she could strike the stairs. Her head fell against his shoulder, her body limp, breath faint.
"Meisha," he whispered, voice tight with fear he rarely allowed himself to feel.
He lifted her easily, carrying her down the steps with swift, controlled movements. He laid her gently on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he assessed the darkened veins creeping up her arm.
The bracelet pulsed with a sickly glow.
His jaw clenched.
She had pushed herself too far. And he had been down here, meditating, while she fought her way back alone.
He placed his hand over her wrist, feeling the toxins burning beneath her skin.
"Stay with me," he murmured, his voice low, steady, and fierce. "I've got you."
Kaydence worked quickly, his movements precise and controlled despite the fear tightening in his chest.
He eased Meisha's cloak from her shoulders, then her boots, then unfastened the strap of her herb satchel and set each item neatly against the wall beside the steps. Her body was drenched in sweat, heat radiating off her skin in waves. The toxins were spreading faster than before — he could feel it pulsing beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.
He brushed damp hair from her forehead, his jaw tightening.
Her breathing was shallow. Too shallow.
He needed to see the full extent of the toxin's spread — and the clothing clinging to her fevered skin was trapping heat, making it worse.
Kaydence swallowed hard, lowering his voice to a whisper meant only for her.
"Please forgive me for what I must do."
There was no response — only the faint rise and fall of her chest.
With careful, clinical hands, he loosened the ties of her outer garments, removing only what was necessary to examine her properly. He worked with the same professionalism he would use tending to any wounded soldier, keeping his focus on the branching dark veins crawling up her arm, across her shoulder, and toward her collarbone.
The sight made his stomach twist.
He had seen this toxin before — but never spreading this aggressively.
He placed a steadying hand against her forehead, feeling the fever burning beneath her skin, then moved to her wrist, where the bracelet pulsed with a sickly glow.
"Meisha," he murmured, voice low and fierce, "I'm here. I won't let this take you."
He positioned himself beside her, preparing to draw the toxins out the only way he could — knowing it would take more strength than he currently had, and knowing he would give it anyway.
Because losing her was not an option.
Kaydence's breath caught as he examined her arm more closely.
The darkened veins weren't just creeping up her forearm anymore — they had surged past her elbow, branching like black lightning across her upper arm and into the delicate skin of her shoulder. The toxin's progression was unmistakable.
If it reached her neck… If it entered the arteries leading to her brain, heart, or lungs…
She would have died in seconds.
A cold, controlled fury settled over him.
He brushed his fingers lightly along her shoulder, following the jagged path of the toxin. Her skin was burning hot beneath his touch, fever radiating outward in waves. Sweat clung to her temples, her breathing shallow and uneven.
"Damn it, Meisha…" he whispered, voice tight with fear he refused to let break.
He glanced at the bracelet — the source of the poison, pulsing faintly with a sickly, unnatural glow. He could shatter it easily. Even weakened, he had more than enough strength to crush the metal into dust.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
He knew this device. He had worn one himself during training — a controlled version, far less volatile than the one on her wrist. Breaking it forcibly would trigger the failsafe woven into its core: a surge of concentrated suppression magic that would detonate through her bloodstream.
It would kill her instantly.
His jaw clenched as he hovered his hand over the bracelet, feeling the unstable magic thrumming beneath the surface.
"I could break you," he muttered under his breath, "but it would take her with you."
He lowered his head for a moment, steadying his breath, forcing his rising panic back down into something sharp and focused. He couldn't afford emotion right now. Not when her life hung on the edge of seconds.
He placed one hand gently beneath her wrist, the other over her shoulder where the toxin had reached its furthest point.
Her skin was scorching.
Her pulse fluttered weakly beneath his fingertips.
Kaydence closed his eyes, drawing on the remnants of his power — the part of him that had finally begun to return.
"Hold on," he whispered, leaning closer, his voice low and fierce. "I'm here. I won't let this take you."
He began the extraction.
And the room filled with the faint, eerie glow of his power awakening.
Kaydence steadied his breath, forcing his hands not to shake as he examined the bracelet again. The toxins were pouring from the inner seam of the device — the same place they had entered his bloodstream when he'd worn one years ago.
He pushed the bracelet higher up her arm, away from the worst of the swelling. The metal resisted at first, as if clinging to her skin, but he forced it upward until it rested just below her elbow. The skin beneath it was raw and inflamed.
He needed a better angle.
Carefully, he slid one arm beneath her shoulders and shifted her closer, positioning her so he could sit beside her on the bed. Her head lolled against his shoulder for a moment before settling back onto the pillow.
Her skin was burning. Her pulse was unsteady. He didn't have time to hesitate.
Kaydence placed his thumbs along her inner forearm, pressing gently but firmly as he traced the branching lines of toxin. He followed the path backward, searching for the exact point where the poison had first entered her bloodstream.
"There," he murmured under his breath.
A small, darkened puncture — nearly invisible unless one knew what to look for.
He lowered his head, bringing her wrist toward his mouth. His fangs extended with a soft, instinctive click — a sound he usually kept hidden but now had no choice.
"Stay with me," he whispered, though she couldn't hear him.
Then he bit down.
His fangs pierced her skin with practiced precision, sinking into the exact point where the toxin had entered. The moment they broke the surface, Meisha's body jerked faintly — a soft, involuntary reaction as her unconscious mind stirred.
A small sound escaped her throat, barely audible.
Kaydence's grip tightened around her wrist, steadying her.
"I know," he whispered against her skin, voice low and strained. "I know. I'm sorry."
He began to draw the toxins out, feeling the burn of them entering his own system — a familiar, searing pain he had endured before, but never with stakes this high.
The room dimmed around him as he focused every ounce of strength, he had left on pulling the poison from her veins.
And Meisha, still unconscious, trembled beneath his touch.
The moment the toxins entered his system, Kaydence's body reacted violently.
A sharp, burning heat shot up his throat and down his spine, his muscles locking for a heartbeat before he forced them to obey. His vision blurred at the edges, darkening like ink spreading through water. He gripped Meisha's arm tighter, anchoring himself.
Not now. Not when she needed him.
His body was still recovering. His power was still unstable. The poison hit him harder than it should have—harder than it ever had before. His breath shuddered, and sweat beaded along his brow.
But then he thought of her.
Of Meisha dragging his unconscious body through the forest. Of her tending to him while terrified and alone. Of her risking herself again and again because she refused to leave him behind.
That memory steadied him more than any meditation ever could.
He forced his senses to focus, glancing at her arm.
The dark veins were receding.
Slowly. Painfully. But they were pulling back.
He kept going.
Another surge of toxin hit him, and his stomach twisted violently. His jaw clenched around her wrist, fangs locked in place. He refused to let go.
Then Meisha jerked beneath him.
A wet, choking cough tore from her chest, and blood splattered across his shoulder and arm.
Her eyes fluttered open—unfocused, glassy with pain.
"Kay… dence…" she rasped, voice trembling. "It hurts."
He didn't stop.
He couldn't. Not when he could feel the last of the toxin gathering at the point where his fangs were anchored.
"I know," he whispered against her skin, voice strained and shaking. "Hold on. Just a little more."
Her fingers twitched weakly against the sheets, her breathing ragged.
Kaydence felt the shift—the bitter, metallic taste of blood hitting his tongue. Not toxin. Blood.
That meant he'd reached the end.
He tore himself away instantly.
His legs nearly buckled as he stood, but he forced himself upright and staggered toward the latrine. The moment he reached it, he braced a hand against the wall and spat the contents into the basin—thick, dark, and laced with poison.
His body convulsed once, twice, as the remnants of the toxin burned through him.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, chest heaving.
Behind him, Meisha lay motionless on the bed, the dark veins fading from her skin.
He had gotten it all.
But the cost to his already‑weakened body was far from over.
Kaydence steadied himself against the wall, the room tilting for a moment as the remnants of the toxin twisted in his gut. His legs trembled beneath him, and for a heartbeat he thought he might collapse.
But then he heard her.
"Kay… dence…"
Barely a whisper. Barely conscious. But calling for him.
That was enough.
He pushed off the wall and forced himself toward the bed, each step sending a wave of nausea rolling through him. His stomach was still in knots, the bitter aftertaste of poison clinging to his tongue like ash. But he ignored it. He ignored everything except her.
Meisha shifted weakly on the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Her fingers twitched toward him, her breath catching in small, pained gasps.
"Kaydence…" she murmured again, voice thin and trembling.
He lowered himself to the floor beside her, his body protesting the movement. His knees hit the ground harder than he intended, and a sharp jolt of pain shot up his spine. He gritted his teeth, swallowing back the dizziness.
"I'm here," he whispered, leaning closer so she could hear him even in her haze. "I'm right here."
Her head turned slightly toward the sound of his voice, though her eyes remained closed. Sweat clung to her skin, her breathing uneven.
Then he noticed it — a smear of dark red at the corner of her mouth.
Blood.
From when she'd coughed mid‑extraction.
Kaydence's chest tightened. He reached for the cloth on the nightstand, his hand shaking slightly as he picked it up. With slow, gentle movements, he wiped the blood from her lips and cheek, careful not to disturb her further.
"You're safe," he murmured, more to steady himself than her. "I've got you."
He brushed the cloth along her jawline, removing the last traces of blood. Her skin was still burning with fever, but the dark veins had faded significantly — a sign that the toxin was no longer spreading.
Still, she looked fragile in a way that twisted something deep inside him.
She whimpered softly, her hand searching blindly across the sheets.
Kaydence caught it, holding her fingers lightly between his own.
"I'm here," he repeated, voice low, steady, and full of a quiet determination that anchored him despite the pain tearing through his own body.
He would stay by her side until she woke. Until her breathing steadied. Until he was certain she was out of danger.
No matter what it cost him.
The sharp clang of the town bell jolted Kaydence's attention upward. One ring. Two. Three.
A warning pattern.
The Grand Moose had crossed into view of the patrolling guards — the same creature Meisha and Nichelle had sensed earlier in the forest. The estate would be on alert now.
Behind him, Meisha stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, her breath catching as she tried to understand where she was. She lay stomach‑down across the bed, her body still trembling from the ordeal. Her gaze drifted toward the wood burner, then darted around the room in confusion — searching, panicked, disoriented.
Until she saw him.
Kaydence stood at her herbal desk shelf, grinding medicinal herbs in her mortar and pestle. His movements were steady, controlled, but his shoulders were tense — the kind of tension that came from fear he hadn't yet released.
Meisha's panic eased. Her breathing slowed.
She watched him until he finished, until he turned toward her with a tonic in one hand and a small bundle of herbs in the other.
When he approached, she tried to push herself up — a weak, shaky attempt to sit.
Her arms gave out immediately.
Kaydence was at her side in an instant.
"Don't move," he said, voice firm but gentle. "I'll take care of you."
He set the tonic and pestle on the nightstand, then slid an arm behind her shoulders, guiding her carefully onto her back. He adjusted her until she sat upright at a ninety‑degree angle, propped against the pillows.
Meisha felt awkward — like her limbs weren't her own, like she was being positioned rather than moving. But she didn't resist. She couldn't.
Kaydence sat on the edge of the bed and placed the back of his right hand against her forehead.
Her eyes closed at the coolness of his touch, her body instinctively leaning into it. The fever was still there, but lower — no longer dangerous.
"You're warm," he murmured, "but stable."
He picked up the tonic and held it out to her.
"Drink."
Meisha obeyed, lifting it to her lips. The first sip hit her throat wrong, and she coughed, wincing as pain shot through her chest.
"Slowly," Kaydence said, his tone softening. "You coughed up blood earlier."
He turned back to the wood burner, preparing a warm towel infused with herbs. When it was ready, he placed it gently across her forehead. The heat and scent eased some of the tension in her muscles.
Kaydence sat beside her again, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped beneath his chin. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The weight of his worry filled the room like a second presence.
Meisha stared down into the cup, her breath trembling. Flashes of memory flickered — the forest, the pain, the toxins crawling up her arm, Nichelle's warning, the moment she collapsed.
She had come so close to dying.
She swallowed hard, wanting to explain everything, to fix the fear she saw in him.
She set the cup on the nightstand and shifted forward, trying to sit up more fully.
Kaydence's reaction was immediate.
His hand shot out, steadying her with a grip that was firm but not rough. His voice came out harsher than he intended — sharp with fear he could no longer hide.
"Meisha. Stop."
She froze.
"You almost died," he said, the words low and tight. "Do not move unless I tell you to."
The anger wasn't anger at all.
It was terror.
And it was written all over him.
Kaydence's expression remained stern, but his voice softened just enough to keep from overwhelming her.
"If you must explain yourself," he said, steady and measured, "do so in a relaxed state. When you are ready. I don't want you straining yourself."
He picked up the tonic again and placed it gently back into her hands.
"Do I make myself clear."
Meisha nodded obediently, taking a small sip. The warmth of the tonic soothed her throat, though her voice was still hoarse. She couldn't help the small inward chuckle that rose in her chest. The commanding general side of him was showing — and she liked it.
Not like Varrick's authority, which demanded obedience through fear and submission.
Kaydence's authority guided. Protected. Anchored.
She understood, in that moment, exactly why he held the rank he did.
"I wonder what it takes to be the first…" she murmured under her breath, the thought slipping out with a soft, amused exhale.
Kaydence's gaze snapped toward her. "What's so funny?"
"You," she replied, nonchalant despite her exhaustion.
His brow furrowed. "And where in any of the given moments did you find a hilarious situation? Please enlighten me."
She smirked faintly, taking another sip of the tonic before answering.
"Only the snippet of your commanding general side," she said. "So stern and assertive on one end… and caring and guiding on the other."
Kaydence let out a quiet, skeptical huff. "Hmph. Oh, really?"
"Yeah, really." She lowered the empty cup, staring into it for a moment before lifting her gaze back to him. "You're the complete opposite of Lord Varrick. Sometimes I question who's really the human… and who's the demon."
The words hung in the air.
Not accusatory. Not fearful. Just honest.
Kaydence's expression shifted — not offended, not amused, but something deeper. Something unreadable.
A muscle in his jaw tightened.
And for a moment, the room felt very still.
Kaydence let out a slow exhale through his nose, the tension in his shoulders shifting as he straightened his posture.
"Well," he said, voice low but steady, "for now, put him in the far back of your mind."
The edge in his tone softened, but only slightly. He turned fully toward her, one knee braced on the mattress, his attention fixed on her with the same intensity he used on the battlefield.
"And if you're ready," he continued, "could you bring me up to speed on the events that took place today."
It wasn't a demand. But it wasn't a request either.
It was the voice of a commander who needed information — and the voice of a man who had nearly lost her and was trying not to show how deeply that rattled him.
Meisha swallowed, her throat still raw, the warm towel slipping slightly down her forehead as she shifted. She nodded, slow and deliberate, gathering her breath.
Kaydence watched her closely, ready to stop her if she strained herself. His hand hovered near her shoulder, not touching, but close enough to steady her if she faltered.
Meisha inhaled shakily.
"Alright…" she whispered. "I'll tell you everything."
Her voice trembled — not from fear, but from exhaustion. Kaydence's expression tightened, but he didn't interrupt.
She began.