Page 53 of Fourth

Fifth spoke up then, voice calm. “We destroyed the ship that was following you. The final one of Selyr’s even though he no longer exists. No further threat remains. It is finished.”

Vaeyra stepped forward, her silver eyes cool and commanding as she addressed Riv’En and Maya directly, though her voice carried to the entire group. “The Council has determined,” she announced, “that you, Riv’En, and the human, Maya, will complete the Bonded Chase in accordance with full protocol. If the Mating Flame does not appear on both mates by its conclusion, both will be forfeit. Your agreement on this isbinding. Once made, there is no changing it or the forfeiture is executed. Do you agree?”

The word hung sharp in the air. Vaeyra’s tone held no emotion, no hesitation, but the silence that followed was edged with unspoken significance. Maya’s breath caught as her gaze snapped to Riv’En, but she did not pull away from his hand on her shoulder. He inclined his head in silent acknowledgment.

“Both must state your agreement aloud. This is not a formality. It is a binding contract recognized by the Elaroin Council and enforced without exception. Speak now, Riv’En. Speak now,Maya.

Riv’En’s voice came first, low and steady. “I agree.”

Maya swallowed hard, her pulse skittering in her throat. But she lifted her chin, forcing her voice not to shake. “I agree.”“

“When do we begin?” he asked.

Vaeyra glanced outside, inclining her head toward the two suns dancing in tangent low on the horizon. “At sunsrise tomorrow.”

“What is the forfeit if we don’t both end up with a Mating Flame?” Maya suddenly asked. “Exile?”

The Counselor lifted an eyebrow. “Why, your lives are forfeit, of course.” Her tone remained neutral, almost gentle. “Failure to manifest the Mating Flame means final sanction by Council decree. No exceptions.”

RIV’EN STOODin the center of his quarters, the final echoes of the Council’s decree still tightening like a noose around his neck. The air grew more viscous in the silence that followed, aweight he carried now not just for himself, but for her. Outside, he could hear the distant murmur of the village settling for the night, the faint hum of bioluminescent plants casting shifting patterns against the walls. But none of it touchedhim.

He rolled his shoulders once, slow and measured, as if shaking off battle strain. His gaze shifted to Maya, standing like a pale flame in the center of all that stillness. And something in his chest clenched tighter than the decree had managed. It had surpassed survival, transcendedduty.

It was about her, about the burden she now carried alongside him. Succeed or die. Not just his burden, but theirs. There was no way to shield Maya from the significance of it. But he could give her this moment. This silence. This connection.

“Everyone out,” Riv’En said, voice cold and final.

Tor’Vek’s gaze held his for a brief second, unreadable, before he inclined his head and stepped back. Locus followed next, graceful and unwavering, his heavy frame moving with silent care as he exited without a word. Apex, as always, did not speak—he simply turned and vanished from the room, his presence dissipating like a shadow drawn back into night.

Even Anya hesitated for just a moment longer. Her hand grabbing hold of Maya’s, asilent squeeze, her expression taut and tense. Then she let go. “We’ll be outside,” she said softly, her voice laced with worry.

Riv’En did not answer. He simply waited until the door sealed behind them all, leaving only silence. Only Maya. Onlythem.

He turned to find his mate standing there, her arms wrapped around herself, her inhalation shallow. Her pupils were wide, her skin pale beneath its natural warmth. It struck Riv’En in a way most would not notice. So much color absent, signaling distress by Elaroin standards, where skin tone reflected health and equilibrium. Pale meant cold. Pale meant off-balance.

In a Vettian, it would have meant combat trauma. In her, it triggered the same reaction: stabilize, protect, restore. That pallor was not just fear. It was a reminder of how fragile she was, how human.

Riv’En’s nature rebelled against it, acold fury ripping through his chest at the idea of her being touched by anything that might break her. That paleness meant vulnerability, and he could not, would not, allowit.

He crossed to her in three measured strides, one hand cupping her chin. The other settled low on her back, bracing her against him. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, her energy flickering quick and unsteady.

“You will not die,” he said again, voice low, intentional. “I will not allow it.”

Her hands lifted, resting against his chest, fingers curling against his robe there as though clinging to the certainty he offered. “Riv’En...”

He did not let her finish. His mouth covered hers in a kiss that was not about reassurance. It was about urgency. Hunger. Finality.

Her lips parted beneath his with a soft, broken sound, and that was it. His discipline shattered.

He caught her up in his arms, lifting her with care. His grip tightened, as though some part of him feared she might vanishif he let her go. The thought unsettled him more than any battle wound had ever managed. His muscles strained with the effort of holding her close without hurtingher.

It was rare that he had to check his strength like this. In battle, command was natural, automatic. But with her, it was calculated. Aconstant, conscious restraint because she was not just another opponent or objective. She was his mate, and that made her the only thing in the universe that could undo him if he let go toomuch.

He carried her the short distance to the low platform that served as their bed, every step unhurried, as if forcing himself not to lose mastery entirely. He laid her down hard enough to make the surface shudder beneath her, bracing himself over her with his arms caging herin.

Her eyes were wide, but she did not look away. Did not try to push himoff.

He growled low in his throat, stripping his robe from his body, then hers. The fabric tore with a harsh rip that echoed in the stillness, rough and final. Threads caught against his calloused fingers before giving way, the sound of it tightening the strain already knotted in his spine.

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