Emmet awoke to darkness. Not the kind of darkness that surrounded him on long, lonely nights beneath a sky full of stars. Not the kind of darkness where he could hear the sounds of the world, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the distant calls of birds or the gentle lapping of waves. This was a stillness so complete, it felt as though time itself had ceased to exist. There were no sounds, no lights, no sensations—only a vast emptiness stretching on endlessly. His senses were dampened, muted, like a dream he could barely grasp.

  He tried to speak, but no words left his mouth. No breath filled his lungs. A heavy ache throbbed through him, deep and visceral, as though something precious had been ripped from him. At first, he thought it was the aftereffects of battle—too much blood lost, too many wounds sustained—but then the realization struck him like a blow to the chest.

  The serpent was gone.

  A piece of himself had died along with his first summon, the beast that had been with him through every trial. The serpent had been his protector, his companion, his anchor in the storms of the world. Losing it wasn’t just losing a friend or a weapon—it was like losing a part of his soul, an integral piece of who he was. The bond he’d shared with the serpent had been more than just the magic that bound them together; it had been something that had grown over time, an extension of his own will and identity.

  Emmet’s grief was a palpable weight, pressing down on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. He could feel the absence as a raw, gaping wound. His mind spun with thoughts of the battle that had taken it from him—the Golden Knight’s crushing blow, the final, fading image of the serpent’s battle-worn form as it collapsed. He had failed to protect it. He had failed to protect something so dear to him.

  The darkness around him grew deeper, and for a moment, he thought he might never wake. But then, a faint sensation brushed against his mind, like the touch of a forgotten memory, a whisper carried on the wind.

  Emmet.

  It was soft at first, just a trace of sound, almost imperceptible. He didn’t know if he was imagining it or if it was a figment of his tortured mind. But then it came again, louder this time, more distinct.

  Emmet. Can you hear me?

  His heart skipped a beat. His mind spun, trying to process the voice. It was familiar. So familiar. His pulse quickened.

  Mila?

  The name slipped out of him without thought, desperate, pleading. Could it be her? Could it really be his sister, the twin he had fought so hard to protect, the sister he had watched die in the flames of the Crown’s Wrath’s assault on Haven’s Reach?

  Her voice answered him, clearer now, though still far away, as though coming from a great distance.

  Yes, Emmet. It’s me.

  His chest tightened with a mixture of joy and grief. It wasn’t possible. She had died—he had watched her die. But here she was, calling to him from somewhere beyond the world he knew. His heart ached at the thought.

  Mila, I thought… I thought you were gone.

  Her voice softened, but there was a sense of finality to it, an undercurrent of something powerful. I was, Emmet. But I’m still here. In you. In your soul. And Theo… he’s here too.

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  Emmet’s breath caught in his throat. Theo. His brother, the other half of him. Gone. But now, through Mila’s words, he felt a flicker of hope stir in his chest, even though it felt almost unreal.

  Theo? Emmet whispered, his mind desperately reaching out for the presence of his brother. Is he really with you?

  Yes. He is. Mila’s voice was steady, but there was sadness beneath it. We’re both here, Emmet. We’re part of you now. And you’re not alone.

  Emmet closed his eyes in the darkness, overwhelmed by the weight of her words. His grief crashed into him again, sharp and biting, as he thought of the moment he had lost them both. He had failed them. He had promised to protect them. But now they were with him in a way he couldn’t fully comprehend, bound to his soul.

  The silence between them stretched, and Emmet’s mind began to race. He could feel them, distant and faint, but present. It wasn’t like the familiar pull of his summons—the connection between them was far more intimate, deeper than anything he had experienced before.

  How? Emmet’s thoughts were frantic. How is this possible? How are you still with me?

  It’s the bond, Emmet. The bond between us. It’s more than just memories. It’s power. The connection we share—it’s part of you now. Mila’s voice was calm, but there was an undeniable strength to it. When you lost the serpent, that piece of your soul… it created a door. And with it, you gained something new. You gained the power of our souls. The magic we once held is now yours to wield.

  Emmet stood frozen in the darkness, trying to process her words. Magic? Magic like Mila and Theo had once wielded? But he wasn’t a mage. He was a spearman, a soldier. He had never known magic. How could he wield it now?

  But how do I control it? His thoughts tumbled out, desperate for answers. How do I even begin?

  It will take time. Mila’s voice was gentle, but there was an edge of urgency beneath it. But you’ve already started. You’re already connected to us. The magic is in you, Emmet. You just have to trust it. Trust yourself. Trust us.

  Emmet felt a strange sensation stir in his chest. It was subtle at first, almost like a pulse—something deep inside him beginning to awaken. He could feel it now, faint but real. It wasn’t just the emptiness left by the serpent’s death. There was something more—something tangible.

  It was power. His power.

  He closed his eyes, focusing on the pulse within him. It grew stronger, a rhythmic beat that seemed to echo from somewhere far beyond himself. His body hummed with it, an energy that was both foreign and familiar. The grief and loss that had been choking him receded slightly, replaced by something else—something fierce and alive.

  And then, as if on instinct, Emmet reached for that power.

  A surge of energy shot through him, like lightning coursing through his veins. It wasn’t the magic of a mage, nor the primal energy of his summons. It was the magic of his siblings, their essence now intertwined with his own. A part of them was inside him, and with that, their power.

  Emmet gasped, his chest rising and falling with the sudden intensity of it. He could feel his siblings’ presence inside him, their wills and their memories. Their souls, not fully gone, but forever a part of him. And with that bond, their magic was his.

  For the first time, Emmet felt the weight of their power, not as something alien or distant, but as an extension of himself. He was no longer just a warrior. He was something more. Something greater.

  I can feel you, Mila. I can feel Theo.

  Her response came, soft but firm, as though she had always been there, waiting for him to recognize the connection. We’re always with you, Emmet. And now, you can use the magic we gave you. You have to believe in it.

  Emmet took a deep breath, focusing on the pulse of energy within him. It was raw, untamed, but it was his. And with it, he felt something shift—something he had never felt before. He was ready. Ready to wield the power of his soul, ready to honor his siblings’ memory and use the magic they had given him.

  And in that moment, he knew that he wasn’t just going to survive. He was going to fight. And this time, he wasn’t alone.