Fin paced the tent long after the moon had reached its zenith. It was the second night she hadn't come back. Shadows stretched long across the canvas walls, closing around him like a noose.
Eventually he sat at the edge of their shared bed, staring at the empty space beside him. Her scent lingered—vanilla and moonlight—but she was gone.
He had waited for her. Heart heavy with remorse, ready to fall to his knees the moment she returned. But she hadn't. And now dawn crept close, and the ache in his chest had sharpened into something sour and consuming.
He dragged a hand down his face, breath shaky. This was his second sleepless night since waking, and she had not spent a single hour with him. The guilt was a weight he couldn't shake, settling like stone in his gut.
Throwing on a tunic and strapping his bracers, Fin stepped into the cold morning air. Exhaustion etched his features, the dark circles beneath his eyes mirroring the storm in his chest. He walked with purpose—straight to Jax's tent.
Inside, Jax looked up, brows furrowing. He could still feel Nova and she was sad. But beneath the sadness was something worse—defeat. Acceptance. As if she had decided that Fin's mistake in choosing her was justified, and she had made peace with it. The thought alarmed Jax, and the fact that Fin wasn't more frantic made something twist in his chest.
Then he took in Fin's disheveled appearance.
"She didn't come back again last night," Fin said.
"She's avoiding you," Cael replied without hesitation, tone blunt as a warhammer.
Fin rubbed a hand over his face. "What do I do?"
"Start by checking Redmoon's camp again," Cael said, raising a brow.
"I did. She's not there."
Jax, seated at the table, leaned forward. "She returned from Shadowclaw. We saw her yesterday evening."
Fin closed his eyes, reaching for her through the bond, but there was nothing.
He tried to mindlink her again.
Fin:Nova… are you at the camp?
Nothing.
He left them without another word. The hours that followed dragged. He moved through his Alpha duties as if underwater—signing reports, giving orders, inspecting weapon stores—but his heart wasn't in any of it. Everywhere he went, he looked for her. Out of the corner of his eye. Over every shoulder. Behind every tent flap.
He still caught traces of her scent in the air—light, familiar, fading. Every time he turned, hoping to find her there, he was met with empty space. It made him sick with longing.
Finally, when the weight in his chest became unbearable, Fin turned toward Aeron's tent.
The mage stood inside with his back to him, sleeves rolled, methodically sorting vials and parchment. Every movement was precise. Controlled. He did not look up.
"She's not here," Aeron said coolly, voice crisp as frost.
Fin stepped inside anyway. "She went back to Shadowclaw again?"
"Yes. Earlier this morning."
Fin hesitated, jaw tight. "Did she say anything?"
Aeron turned sharply.
His expression was drawn, eyes colder than Fin had ever seen them. "No. She wouldn't." His tone cut. "That's not her."
He stepped forward, papers forgotten. "But I have heard what you said to her. From multiple sources."
Fin's shoulders went rigid.
"And just so we're clear," Aeron continued, voice flat and unforgiving, "the hour you spent stabilizing her did not make you some benevolent savior. It benefited you and Jax just as much."
Fin's shoulders tensed. "That doesn't change the fact she was burning from the inside out. I felt it, Aeron."
"True. But in helping her, you learned control," Aeron said, eyes narrowing. "You should have thanked her."
He stepped closer, voice dropping. "Do you remember walking into my study and finding her passed out cold on the floor?"
Fin's jaw tightened.
"She did that repeatedly," Aeron continued. "Weeks of overload. Collapse. Recovery. Then she did it again. Why? Because that is the most effective way to train limits. Hers first. She endured it without complaint."
Fin said nothing, but his hands clenched into fists.
"Last night," Aeron went on coolly, "you should have thanked her." His gaze sharpened. "What took her weeks of pain to master, you and Jax learned in one hour."
He did not raise his voice.
"Both of you now carry her magical signature. You could not harm her if you tried. All you did was take and release. Controlled surge. Controlled burn."
Fin's throat tightened. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. He forced a breath in through his nose, slow and shaky. He had no defense.
Because Aeron was right.
"Goddamnit," Fin muttered. "Aeron. I need to find her. I need to fix this." He dragged both hands through his hair, pacing like a man fighting to stay upright. "I handled it wrong. I know I did."
Aeron did not offer comfort. He only nodded once, already turning back to his notes.
"She will return in a few hours," he said calmly. "She intends to make the portal herself."
Fin stopped mid-step. "Since when can she do that?"
"Since today," Aeron replied. "I'll be monitoring it."
Fin let out a breath through his teeth, frustration twisting low and sharp in his gut.
Aeron kept writing, unhurried, before speaking again. "One more thing. You need to approach your power as a student again. Not as an Alpha."
Fin said nothing, but his jaw locked hard.
"The amount of power she channeled," Aeron continued evenly, "was not brute force. It was restraint. Magic fades unless actively maintained. She used just enough to keep the orb compact while allowing additional power to pass through."
His gaze sharpened.
"Raw, unstable magic from no fewer than ten separate sources. All converging at once. And she held it together. That requires extreme focus."
The silence pressed heavy.
"I have never seen anyone do it to that degree," Aeron said quietly. Then, almost imperceptibly, his voice softened. "And in that moment, I was proud."
The word landed harder than a reprimand.
Fin swallowed, throat burning. He did not speak. He could not.
Aeron looked back down at his work.
Fin swallowed again, eyes stinging now, the weight behind his ribs thick and relentless. Gods, he felt like an ass.
Aeron sighed. When he spoke again, his tone had shifted. Still precise. Less sharp.
"There's a great deal we can learn from this. So next time, she doesn't burn herself out." He paused. "You or Jax could anchor excess power and return it as she releases."
He glanced up briefly. "But that only happens if we study it. Not if we judge it."
"I understand," Fin said hoarsely.
Aeron inclined his head. "I'm not saying she didn't take a risk. She did. But next time, ask her why before you explode at her."
"I've made that mistake before," Aeron added dryly. "It did not take long to realize I was the ass in the room."
Fin exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging, the truth settling deep.
"When she says she has no experience," Aeron went on, voice even, "she means it. Everything she does comes from something she read. Or something she heard me mention once, in passing. Instinct plays a role, yes. But not in the way you or Jax rely on it."
"It's easy to forget," he added coolly, "she spent half her life chained up."
Fin flinched. He knew that. He had always known that. Hearing it said aloud still hit him like a blow to the ribs.
"With her, there's always a reason," Aeron continued. "Always." His mouth curved faintly, not quite a smile. "I'm actually curious about the bridge. I have theories."
Fin lowered himself onto a crate, shoulders heavy. "I didn't ask her what she was thinking," he admitted quietly. "I just saw it. And it looked reckless."
Aeron shook his head once. "Appearances are deceptive."
He turned slightly, slipping into analysis as easily as breathing. "Rex informed Hyran that the unit stationed at the bridge had a significantly higher concentration of dark mages than the others. Even those pulled from the void." His eyes sharpened. "If she had destroyed the bridge before they crossed, they would have stabilized it almost immediately."
"They would've adapted," Aeron continued. "Dark mages on both sides anchoring the structure. Reinforcements pouring in."
"If she had flown overhead and attempted to burn them with Onyx's fire, she would have been too close. That density of dark magic would have drained her shielding almost instantly. And then Onyx's. Failure was the likely outcome."
Fin closed his eyes briefly.
Aeron continued.
"By luring the majority onto the bridge first, she removed their fallback, compressed them into a single point, and eliminated the majority of dark mages. She and Rex then were able to use their dragons on the rest."
He paused, thoughtful. "That said, I'd be interested to hear her version. There's usually more."
Fin drew in a slow, steadying breath. "I understand."
And he did.
She hadn't acted out of pride. Or impulse. Or recklessness. She had assessed, adapted, and survived. Without him. Without an Alpha at her side.
He hadn't asked.
He hadn't listened.
He had assumed the worst.
And that realization settled deeper than any wound, heavy and unmoving, where shame belonged.