Page 200 of Ashes to Ashes

That calm is worse than pain.

Because calm means she’s accepted it.

The silence through the bond isn’t peace. It’s surrender.

And guardian magic isn’t meant to survive surrender. It’s meant to fight, to burn, to save.

So why the fuck can’t I save her?

But wait?—

The guardian oath burns like it always does when she’s in danger. But underneath that familiar agony, something else gnaws at me. The bond doesn’t just screamprotect her—it whisperstrust her. Like she’s not the one in mortal peril here.

The wrongness isn’t that she’s going to die.

The wrongness is that everyone else has no idea what’s coming.

“The magical backlash from your last attempt nearly stopped your heart,” Finnian says from his position among destroyed books, amber eyes holding worry that can’t quite hide bone-deep defeat. “Whatever you’re planning?—”

“I’m planning to reach her.” I turn to face them both, flame flickering around my shoulders in patterns that mirror the black ink consuming my skin. “Guardian magic is supposed to be absolute. No barrier should be able to stop me from protecting my charge.”

“Unless the barriers were specifically designed to use guardian power against itself,” Finnian says quietly.

Understanding crashes into my solar plexus like a sledgehammer. “What do you mean?”

“The ward-work isn’t just repelling your magic—it’s absorbing it. Feeding on it. Growing stronger with every attempt you make.” His hands shake as he gestures toward the unmarked walls. “You’re not breaking through because you can’t break through. This was designed to stop exactly what you’re trying to do.”

Through the bond, another pulse of her emotional state. Still that unsettling calm. But now, beneath it, I catch something else—anticipation. Not fear of tomorrow, but excitement for it.

Like someone who’s been planning for this moment her entire life.

My guardian instincts scream that she’s in danger, but my heart whispers she’s exactly where she wants to be.

Why isn’t she fighting this?

“I don’t care if it was designed by the gods themselves.” I gather every flame I’ve ever commanded, every protective instinct that’s been burning through my veins since the moment I first saw her. The Cauldron flares against my ribs with heat that should kill me, ancient treasure responding to desperation with power beyond anything I’ve ever channeled. “She’s mine to protect. And I will burn this entire Academy to ash before I let her face that trial alone.”

They’ll call it obsession. They’ll say I crossed a line.

But this isn’t love in the mortal sense.

This is blood oath, bone vow, wildfire devotion.

My soul recognizes hers like flame recognizes oxygen.

I don’t just guard her. I’m bound. I’m claimed. And if this kills me—so be it.

Every ancestor who failed their charge screams through the connection, adding their voices to magic that’s been building for hours.

This time will be different. It has to be.

The guardian bond surges like a star going nova in my chest.

Not strategy. Not politics.

Just the pure, primal truth of what she is to me. Not a possession. Not a duty.

A vow made in fire and blood and the space between heartbeats.

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