Moonlight dripped through the shattered roof of the ancient temple, painting the stone floor in silver patterns. You knelt beside the sigils etched into the cracked marble, your leathers stained with dirt and blood. Magic pulsed beneath your fingertips—old, feral, and dangerous.

Nyx stood a few feet behind you, silent as the shadows themselves. You didn’t have to look to know he was watching. You could feel him, like gravity in your bones, like stars tugging the tides of your soul.

“You’re breathing too loud,” you said, not turning around.

“You’re stalling,” he countered, his voice low, velvet-dark. “This temple won’t stay quiet for long. You have two minutes.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Then stop watching me like I’m going to shatter.”

His lips curled into a half-smile. “I’m watching you like I don’t want you to.”

The bond wasn’t a bond—not officially. There’d been no golden thread, no flashing realization. But whatever lived between you and Nyx burned like something ancient, something deeper than fate. It whispered through your magic, hummed beneath your skin whenever he was near. A magnetic pull that neither of you had named—but both of you felt.

You stood, brushing off your hands. “The sigils are a lock. Layered spells—Autumn Court magic. I can break it, but I’ll need time.”

You met his gaze then, your breath catching again. He was the High Lord’s son. Composed. Strategic. But when it came to you, there was something feral in the way he looked.

Your shadows twined with his before you could stop them—bare tendrils of dark curling together in the air like they knew something you didn’t. His siphons flickered, not resisting.

You swallowed. “We’re not supposed to—”

“Want this?” he said, stepping even closer, the heat between your bodies almost unbearable. “Too late.”

A roar echoed outside—beasts. Sentinels of Autumn.

Nyx’s wings flared as you both drew your weapons. “You break the lock,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll hold them off.”

“Don’t die,” you muttered, sparing him one last look.

His eyes glowed violet in the moonlight. “Not when something’s pulling me back to you every damn time.”

And then he was gone, a flash of night and starfire, and you were left with the echoes of your own racing heart and the feeling that whatever this was—this pull—was only just beginning.