The clang of steel rang sharp through the valley, echoing against the jagged cliffs. Illyrian wings beat the air in steady rhythm as warriors sparred in tight formations, their movements disciplined, relentless. At their center stood their commander—tall, broad-shouldered, his violet eyes narrowed in focus as he parried blow after blow. Shadows slid over his hands like smoke, weaving into the arc of his sword as if battle itself bent to his command.

You pulled on the reins of your pegasus, the silver-feathered beast descending with a rush of wind that drew every gaze upward. Dust rose as hooves struck earth, the warriors stepping back in wary silence.

You dismounted, boots crunching against the gravel, your chest tight. You had expected some Autumn Court brute, faceless and cruel—a commander to bargain with, nothing more. But when his gaze met yours across the training ring, time stopped.

His blue eyes.

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The world blurred at the edges, all sound drowned by the frantic pounding of your heart. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t—

“Commander,” one of the soldiers murmured, bowing slightly, awaiting his cue.

He stepped forward, wings folding neatly at his back, face hard as carved stone. No flicker of recognition, no trace of the boy who had once been your mate. Only a commander of the Autumn Court, assessing a stranger.

But you knew. Even with the scars tracing his jaw, even with the weight of years written in the shadows of his stance—you knew.

“Nyx,” you breathed, voice breaking.

His brows drew together, confusion flashing in his eyes at the sound of his name on your lips.

Before you could stop yourself, you crossed the space between you and threw your arms around him. Your body shook as you clutched at him, tears slipping hot and fast down your cheeks. The scent of him—wings, steel, smoke—hit you like a blade to the chest.

For a heartbeat, he stood frozen, stiff in your embrace. His hand twitched as if reaching for a blade.

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered, your voice splintering. “For twenty years, I thought I’d lost you.”

His body went rigid. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes sharp and searching. There was no recognition there—only wariness, only distance.

And it broke you all over again.