Axel let out a ragged breath, his jaw tight. “When Imogen’s aura awakened. When the magic rushed back into all of us.” His voice cracked faintly, his eyes shimmering. “I felt it. Not just the power returning, not just the strength, I felt her. Malachite.”

  He swallowed hard. “I don’t understand it. It’s like there’s this… pull, inside me like I can feel when she’s close, feel when she’s hurting, feel when she’s in danger. It’s like something’s tying me to her, and it’s only been a few hours but…” His voice hitched faintly. “I can’t ignore it.”

  “But the thing is…” Axel murmured, his voice going soft, pained.

  “When I look at her when she looks at me it’s like… she doesn’t feel it. It’s just me.”

  His voice cracked again, his breath trembling as he gently pressed his forehead to his hands trying to hide the tears that threatened to leave his eyes. “It’s like I’m tied to her but there’s nothing pulling back from the other end.”

  Imogen’s throat tightened, her heart clenching as she reached out, gently resting her hand on Axel’s arm, offering a small, quiet comfort.

  For a long breath, Darius stood still, the tension in his jaw flickering just faintly, weighing something deep inside himself.

  the silent villagers, the nervous guards, Malachite’s wide-eyed father and with a quiet, commanding voice, he spoke “Everyone, back.”

  The king didn’t need to shout as they approached Malachite.

  The villagers immediately stepped away, bowing their heads, clearing a wide circle around Malachite, Axel, and Imogen. Even Malachite’s father, pale and stricken, reluctantly moved back at the sharp authority in Darius’s voice. Axel quickly stopped Malachite's father from leaving her side once again feeling the annoyance from his brother.

  Once the space was cleared, Darius stepped back himself, folding his arms silently, watching Axel and Malachite's father standing next to each other both having painful looks on their faces.

  Imogen walked over to Axel again feeling determined to comfort her friend because what else could she do? She already was part of the reason Malachite was in this mess, her hand gently resting on his tense arm.

  “Axel,” she whispered softly, her eyes shimmering with quiet emotion, “just… give her time.”

  Axel let out a shaky, rough breath, his shoulders trembling faintly. His eyes, normally so sharp and full of humor, flicked to Imogen, hollow with exhaustion and fear.

  “It feels so strong, Imogen,” he murmured, his voice raw, almost broken. “It’s only been a few hours, but gods it feels like I’ve been tied to her forever. And she just…” His throat worked, his breath hitching. “…she doesn’t feel it back.”

  She reached out, gently resting her hand on his tense arm, her eyes shimmering with quiet emotion.

  “Axel… just give her time.” She said again. “She’s strong. She’s still here. And maybe…” Imogen took a beat to think of the words to say. “Maybe she just needs you to keep holding on a little longer.”

  Axel’s jaw clenched hard, his fists curling again, his eyes dropping briefly to Malachite’s pale, battered face.

  Axel let out a rough, ragged breath, part laugh, part sob but he didn’t lift his head. “I don’t even know what this is supposed to mean,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ve fought beside her for years… but now, it’s like…”

  His shoulders shook faintly. “It’s like she’s everything. And she doesn’t even know it.”

  Across from them, Darius stood stiffly, his eyes locked sharply on Axel, tension flickering across his cold, controlled face.

  For a long breath, the Dragon King said nothing but inside, something twisted sharply in his chest.

  He knew the bond Axel spoke of. He knew it better than anyone. But the ache of realizing Axel had stumbled into that same pull and that Malachite hadn’t felt it back cut deeper than he expected.

  Darius exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening, his fists flexing faintly at his sides. “Then we make sure,” he murmured quietly, his voice low, edged with quiet resolve. “That she lives long enough to figure it out.”

  Axel let out a shaky, hitched breath, lifting his head slightly, his eyes raw, shimmering faintly.

  Imogen squeezed his arm gently, offering a soft, trembling smile.

  “She’s stubborn, Axel,” she whispered. “She’s not done yet.”

  A sharp voice snapped through the air. “NOW! We need her inside immediately!”

  The lead healer’s voice cut like a whip, her glowing hands hovering over Malachite’s chest, her brow tight with urgent focus. “She’s crashing, we need the full circle, reinforced magic, or we lose her!”

  Axel’s heart lurched violently in his chest. “Wh- what?”

  The healers surged forward, swiftly but carefully lifting Malachite onto a stretcher, their glowing hands working furiously as they rushed toward the healing hall.

  “Move aside!” the lead healer barked, eyes sharp, her voice tight with tension. “She needs intensive surgery, clear the path!”

  Axel stumbled back a step, his breath hitched sharply in his chest, his fists shaking helplessly at his sides. “Mal!”

  Darius grabbed Axel’s shoulder firmly, his grip sharp. “Let them work,” the king said low, his voice cold but steady. “Let them save her.”

  Axel’s eyes shone wetly, his jaw trembling, but he clenched his fists hard, forcing himself to stay frozen to watch as the healers disappeared through the glowing doors, carrying Malachite swiftly inside.

  The heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind them.

  Axel sagged forward slightly, his breath hitching again raw, sharp, a sound close to a sob.

  Imogen quietly slipped beside him, her small hand resting gently on his tense arm, her eyes shimmering with quiet heartbreak.

  Darius stood slightly apart, his sharp gaze locked on the doors, his jaw tight, the tension rippling faintly in his chest.

  He had faced war, dragons, kingslayers but nothing had prepared him for the feeling of watching his oldest friend crumble before him.The heavy doors of the healing hall slammed shut, sealing off the glowing, frantic work inside.

  Axel stood frozen just outside, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles ached, his chest heaving with short, uneven breaths.

  He stared at the door like if he glared hard enough, it would force itself open like he could break through the stone and wood to get back to her.

  Beside him, Malachite’s father stood stiff and silent, his thick hands trembling faintly at his sides. The weathered old smith, normally a man of gruff, solid calm, had gone pale as ash, his eyes locked on the doors with a hollow, haunted look.

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  Neither man spoke at first. The square was quiet now, the villagers giving them space, only a few hushed whispers echoing from the edges.

  Axel finally let out a shaky, ragged breath, dragging a trembling hand through his hair.

  “Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, his eyes glassy. “You’re supposed to be too stubborn to break.”

  The smith exhaled slowly, his jaw tight. “She’s always been stubborn,” he murmured softly, his rough voice strained. “Since she was small.”

  Axel flinched faintly, glancing sideways at the older man. For a heartbeat, neither looked at the other.

  “She drove me crazy,” the smith went on, his mouth twitching faintly in a rough, brittle smile. “Wouldn’t take orders. Always thought she knew better. Always wanted to prove she could handle herself.”

  Axel let out a shaky, breathless laugh, his chest tight. “Yeah,” he rasped softly. “That sounds like her.”

  A long silence stretched between them, heavy with fear neither wanted to name aloud.

  Finally, Malachite’s father turned, his lined face raw with worry and to Axel’s surprise, the old man reached out, gripping his arm tightly.

  “Thank you,” the smith murmured roughly, his voice low. “For getting her back here.”

  Axel’s breath hitched sharply, his throat working as he struggled to keep it together. “I didn’t… I didn’t do enough,” he whispered, his voice breaking faintly. “I should’ve been faster. Should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve-”

  The old smith squeezed his arm hard. “She’s alive,” he said simply, firmly. “Because of you.”

  Axel’s eyes glistened, his jaw clenched tight, his fists trembling faintly at his sides.

  For a long, aching moment, the two men stood side by side. Warrior and father, brother-in-arms and parent, united by nothing but their desperate hope for the same stubborn, fierce young woman fighting for her life inside.

  The minutes dragged on. Axel paced restlessly in front of the healing hall, fists clenched, chest tight. Malachite’s father sat heavily on a low bench, elbows on his knees, his weathered hands loosely clasped. His rough face was drawn, shadowed, his dark eyes locked on the ground.

  After a long stretch of silence, the old smith finally spoke, his voice low and rasping. “Her mother would’ve loved you.”

  Axel froze mid-step, turning sharply. “…What?”

  The smith gave a faint smile brittle, worn around the edges. “She was the same way, you know. Wild. Stubborn. Laughing in the face of things twice her size.” His fingers tightened faintly. “She died when Malachite was small. A sickness, one we couldn’t heal. I tried, gods know I tried, but… Malachite grew up fast after that. Too fast.”

  Axel swallowed hard, his throat burning, his fists tightening. He knelt slowly beside the older man, dropping to one knee, his eyes wide and raw. “I won’t let her die,” Axel rasped fiercely. “I swear to you, I won’t.”

  The smith gave him a faint, sad look, a man who had once made that same promise to himself long ago.

  Before Axel could say more, the sharp sound of armored boots cut across the quiet square.

  Darius approached, tall and imposing, his eyes cool and unreadable.

  “Axel,” Darius murmured quietly. “I need to speak with you. Alone.”

  Axel stiffened slightly, his jaw clenching but after a beat, he rose, giving the old smith a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

  Imogen appeared at Axel’s side, her soft pink gown trailing slightly, her eyes wide with worry. She gave Axel’s arm a light, comforting squeeze, then turned gently to the smith. “Walk with me?” she offered softly, her voice warm, inviting. “Just for a little while, I could use the company.”

  The old smith blinked at her, startled then gave a faint, grateful nod. Together, Imogen and the older man slowly moved away, their figures disappearing into the darker edge of the square, leaving Axel and Darius standing face to face under the watchful hush of the night.

  Axel crossed his arms tightly, his eyes still faintly wet, his jaw tense. “All right, Darius,” he said hoarsely, his voice low and rough. “What do you want?”

  Axel squared his shoulders, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze sharp and blazing despite the exhaustion hollowing his face. Darius stood tall and still, black armor gleaming faintly in the lantern light

  For a long, brittle moment, neither spoke.

  Then Axel’s voice cracked the silence low, rough, and shaking with fury. “Well? What is it, Darius? What do you need to say?”

  Darius’s jaw tightened slightly. “We need to be clearheaded, Axel. There’s too much at stake.”

  “Clearheaded?” Axel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, his fists trembling at his sides.

  “You want me clearheaded when she’s in there barely hanging on? When she’s fighting for her life because she jumped off a cliff to protect your mate?”

  Darius’s mouth tightened, his shoulders stiff.

  “She made her own choice, Axel.”

  “She made that choice because of you!” Axel roared, stepping in close, jabbing a finger sharply into Darius’s armored chest.

  “She jumped without a second thought because it was Imogen, because she was willing to die for your queen, because of you and your orders!”

  Darius’s eyes flashed, his jaw working tight. “I didn’t tell her to.”

  “No,” Axel snarled, his voice cracking, “but you told her to protect Imogen with her LIFE, Darius. Your orders!”

  Darius’s chest rising with a sharp, controlled breath. “She knew what was at risk-”

  “She knew what you needed, Darius,” Axel hissed, cutting him off, his eyes burning. “And she didn’t think twice about giving up everything for it. That’s the difference between you and her.”

  For a long, brittle second, they stood locked, chest to chest, the raw tension pulsing between them like a drawn blade.

  Axel’s voice dropped, softer, but no less fierce. “If she dies… because of what she gave up for you and your mate…” His throat worked, his breath hitched, his jaw tightening painfully. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you.”

  Darius’s eyes flickered sharply, the faintest crack running through his hard, kingly mask. His fists flexed at his sides, his gaze locked on Axel’s raw, furious face.

  For the first time, the weight of all of it settled sharp and heavy in the space between them.

  Darius’s fists clenched at his sides, Axel’s words sank deep, slicing through him like a blade.

  For a long, taut second, he stood silent then his voice lashed out, cold and sharp, cutting through the air. “So that’s it, Axel?”

  Axel stiffened slightly, his eyes flashing. “What?”

  Darius took a hard step forward, his broad figure looming, his voice low and biting.

  “You’re willing to throw away everything, everything we’ve fought for, everything we’ve been because of some bond you think you feel?”

  Axel’s jaw tightened, his fists curling again. “It’s not just a bond, Darius”

  “She doesn’t even feel it!” Darius snapped, his voice rising sharply. “She hasn’t reached back. She hasn’t chosen you. You’re tearing yourself apart over something you don’t even know is real!”

  Axel flinched, his breath catching but his eyes hardened, his voice rough. “It’s real to me.”

  “Would you really throw away everything we’ve built, all the years we’ve stood side by side, for a mate bond that might not even return your pull?” His voice cracked through gritted teeth, something raw flickering behind the anger. “Would you give up on us?”

  Axel’s breath hitched sharply, his chest heaving and for a long, painful moment, he said nothing.

  The two men stood locked in place, years of loyalty, brotherhood, and war crashing into this single, breaking point.

  Axel’s throat worked as he forced a breath, his eyes shimmering faintly. “I’m not the one giving it up, Darius,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice rough with grief.

  “You are.”

  Darius recoiled slightly, the words hitting deeper than he expected, cracking through the cold mask he wore.

  His fists trembled faintly at his sides, his breath sharp, his mouth tightening as a storm of unspoken guilt and pain twisted behind his eyes. For a moment, it seemed like the anger had drained out of him but then he let out a low, shaky breath and gave a bitter laugh.

  “You know,” Axel murmured softly, his voice rough, “for all your power, Darius… for all your titles, your strength, your crown…”

  Darius’s jaw tightened slightly,

  Axel tilted his head faintly, his smile twisting at the edges. “You’re not half as good at holding on to the people who love you as you think you are.”

  The words cut sharper than any blade.

  For a long moment, Darius just stood there chest tight, the faintest flicker of something breaking behind his cold, kingly mask.

  Axel let out a rough exhale, straightened his shoulders, and turned sharply away without another word, his long strides carrying him back toward the healing hall, where the faint glow of magic still pulsed behind closed doors.