Therrin's POV
She lay draped across his chest, the rise and fall of his breath rocking her gently, like the tide waiting to pull her under. His skin was warm beneath her cheek, and her fingers idly traced the dark hair curling across his chest—soft, coarse, familiar. She twirled a piece of it between her thumb and forefinger, smiling faintly at the way his hand never stopped moving in her hair. Slow, circular strokes, twining strands around his knuckles like a lover counting blessings.
The afterglow clung to them like incense. Sacred. Sticky. Sweet.
"I know you," she murmured softly.
His fingers paused, just for a moment.
Then: "Yes."
A beat of silence passed between them, heavy as stone.
"But I don't understand how."
Her voice wavered. She tilted her head slightly to look up at him, to meet those unreadable, starlit eyes. He gazed back down at her as if she were made of all the things he'd spent a thousand years chasing.
Her fingers danced along his ribs. "You said we were tied. That we used to meet in dreams. That we were… together."
Ciaran didn't speak at first. His eyes slid closed, and for a moment, she thought he might disappear entirely, dissolve like smoke and leave her empty again.
But then he spoke.
"You'll remember when you're ready."
Her brow furrowed. "That's not an answer."
"I know." His voice was low, regretful. "But memories are dangerous things. Especially for you."
She pushed herself up slightly, her naked skin brushing his. "So show me, then. Yours."
He looked at her, startled—and something dark flickered behind his expression. Longing. Guilt. Hunger.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
Ciaran exhaled through his nose, then brought his hand to the center of her chest. The moment his palm touched her, the dream shifted again. Reality unraveled.
And memory unfolded.
It began with a forest clearing, bathed in golden light. Trees swayed gently overhead, and in the middle stood a girl. Her. A different version of her—barefoot, wild-haired, draped in emerald robes and shadows. She turned at the sound of a laugh.
And there he was.
Younger. Eyes brighter. Still tall, still arresting, but softer somehow. He stood leaning against a tree, an amused smirk on his lips. She watched their past selves move toward each other like gravity wrote their story before they did.
"Don't you ever knock before entering sacred ground?" she asked in the memory.
"It stopped being sacred the moment you set foot in it," he replied, tone teasing.
They circled each other like wolves wearing smiles.
Therrin watched it all unfold from behind her own eyes, ghostlike but fully present. She felt the way her heart had leapt. The thrill. The warning. The inevitable draw.
Other memories blurred in and out.
Hushed arguments in candlelit chambers. Late-night meetings in ruins, their bodies wrapped in one another like thread and flame. His worshipful hands on her skin. The way she gasped his name into the hollow of his throat. Lips pressed to her collarbone. His voice chanting her name like a sacred prayer and a filthy sin all at once.
Then blood.
The war.
Screams. Magic lighting up the night like falling stars.
The two of them fighting back to back, drenched in mud and blood, his hand always reaching for hers. Protecting. Possessive.
Loving.
In the haze of a battlefield tent, he kissed her with the kind of hunger that didn't ask for permission. He touched her as if claiming her was a vow made to the gods, one he'd keep no matter the price.
Therrin's breath caught in the present.
She saw herself crying once, breaking apart. He gathered her into his arms and whispered, "You are not alone. I will always find you."
And then—then came the garden.
Petals. White. Thousands of them.
And her body sprawled across the center like a broken offering.
Blood spilled like ink. Her lifeblood. Her hair spread around her head like a halo. Her eyes glassy with death. She looked peaceful. She looked… gone.
And he—Ciaran—fell to his knees beside her, something inside him fracturing too loudly for the dream to contain.
The air cracked.
The sky bled.
He howled her name, clawing at the dirt, pressing his forehead to hers, sobbing like a man who'd lost the only part of himself that mattered.
"I begged her," his voice echoed. "I begged Nyx to bring you back. To undo it."
He turned his face to the sky, roaring.
"You gave her to me! You let me love her! Why give me a second chance only to steal her again?!"
The world shook.
And in that moment, he wasn't just a grieving man.
He was something else.
Bigger. Darker.
His eyes blackened. His skin shimmered like obsidian under starlight. His body arched with a power she didn't recognize. Shadows wrapped around him like a mantle, bleeding from his spine, rising like wings.
But then the memory snapped.
And she was back in his arms again, lying on his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her.
Therrin lifted her head slowly. "That… was me."
"Yes."
"And you…"
"I was your consort," he said gently. "Your second chance at love. Another mate. One you chose."
She sat up more fully now, tension threading into her spine. "But you weren't just some warrior, were you?"
His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "No."
"What are you, really?"
He trailed his hand down her spine, then brought it to rest at her hip. "Does it matter?"
"Yes."
But he didn't answer.
Not directly.
Instead, he kissed her again, slowly, deeply. And this time, when she looked into his eyes—she saw it.
The truth he wasn't yet ready to speak.
Not just a man.
Not just a lover.
Erebus.
The Dark One.
The embodiment of night, of primordial shadow, of the chaos before light.
And her mate.
Ciaran's POV
The air in the dream shimmered as she stirred beneath my touch, fingers threading through my hair, eyes wide with wonder. Her breath caught as she looked at me—really looked—eyes searching, unblinking.
"How can I see you?" she whispered, voice trembling. "I've always been blind… How is this possible?"
I smiled softly, tracing a gentle line along her cheek. "This place bends reality, little one. Here, you see not with your eyes, but with your soul. I am part of you, as you are of me. The darkness that once veiled your sight now reveals truths hidden to the waking world."
Her gaze softened, filled with both awe and confusion. "It feels real… like I'm waking, yet I'm still dreaming."
"That's the power of our bond," I murmured. "It transcends flesh and sight. Here, you are whole, unbound by limits the world once imposed on you."
I reached out, letting my fingers brush over her lashes, feeling the fragile weight of her trust settling between us. "You will see more than you ever thought possible. The memories locked away will come—when you are ready."
Her fingers curled around my wrist as her breathing slowed, surrendering to the depths of the dream. And in that moment, I knew the war for her soul was far from over—but the first threads of my hold were tightening.