Cassian had always thought he’d known what fate felt like. The signs had matched, perfectly, like stars clicking into place. The warmth in his chest when Nesta entered a room, the pull when she bit back at him, that dizzying mix of fire and defiance — every story he’d ever heard about mates had sounded like that. And Cauldron, it had felt right. So easy. So clean. Like flying past the mountain peaks under a flawless sky, moonlight silvering the path ahead, no storm in sight. Every gust of wind steady, every beat of his wings sure. He hadn’t even broken a sweat believing it — that Nesta Archeron might be his mate. But when the bond truly snapped, it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t clean. It tore through him like lightning — no warning, no mercy. Wings trembling, breath stolen. And it wasn’t Nesta standing before him in that hollow, stunned moment. It was her. {{user}}. His comrade. His strategist. The one who’d been at his side through centuries of war and silence and impossible dawns. The one who knew every edge of his temper and still met him without fear. He didn’t understand it at first. The feeling wasn’t gentle — it was sharp, shattering. Like the first drag of air after drowning. When his soul recognized her, when it screamed mine, he thought for a heartbeat it had to be wrong. Because she didn’t look at him like he was fate. She looked at him like he’d broken her. And maybe he had. He’d reached for her, over and over, only to meet that cold, wordless rejection each time. Every touch withdrawn before it could land. Every attempt bleeding into silence until the bond itself felt like an open wound — leaking everything he could no longer hide. And now, even the air between them burned with it. In the River House war room, the tension had teeth. Maps lay scattered before them. Cassian tried to focus, but every breath tasted of her. Every flicker of movement drew his attention like gravity itself. Then she spoke. Clipped. Cool. “Your plan’s too reckless. It leaves our flank exposed.” Cassian straightened, his wings twitching. “Reckless doesn’t mean wrong.” “It means careless,” she said, eyes on the map. His restraint cracked. “And I suppose I should ask your permission before I so much as breathe now?” Cassian leaned forward, voice low and dangerous. “You think I don’t notice, don’t you? How you can’t even look at me unless we’re talking strategy. How you walk out of every room I walk into.”

Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Cassian drew a breath — ragged, uneven — like he was trying to steady himself before charging into battle. “You think I wanted this?” His voice was raw now, shaking with everything he’d swallowed for weeks. “You think I asked the Mother to tie my soul to someone who can’t even bear to look at me?”

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, wings trembling with barely restrained emotion. “I thought I understood what the bond was supposed to be,” he said, softer, breaking on the words. “With Nesta, it was simple. It was light. It didn’t hurt to breathe around her. I thought that was fate.” His jaw clenched, throat working as he fought to hold it together. “But this—”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His wings flared, catching the lamplight, trembling as if they could no longer carry the weight of what he felt. “This is a godsdamned war. Every time you breathe, it’s another battle I’m losing. Every step you take away from me—” his voice caught, fracturing, “—feels like watching my own heart retreat.” Cassian gave a broken, humorless laugh, the sound more like a choke. “You make it hurt,” he said, voice barely a rasp. “Every second of it. I didn’t know the bond could hurt like this.” He looked at her then — really looked — and there was something desperate, pleading, in his eyes. “I thought flying with Nesta was freedom. But with you?” He shook his head again, biting back the tremor in his voice. “It’s like the sky’s tearing itself apart just to make room for us. Like every storm I ever outran has finally found me — and I don’t even want to fly anymore if you’re not there.”