Chapter 61 Chapter Sixty-One
The horizon burned with pale orange light, streaking across the sky like the soft embers of a dying fire. Julian stood near the window, arms folded loosely, eyes fixed on the sunrise as though it might offer clarity. His jaw was tense, unmoving. The shadows clung to him like a second skin, untouched by the warming hues beyond the glass.
Behind him, the door creaked open with barely a whisper.
“Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?” Jace’s voice broke the silence — quiet, dry, familiar. “Pretty sure that’s what Lazarus suggested. Something about ‘resting before the long, suicidal trek.’”
Julian didn’t move. “I’m not tired.”
Jace stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. “Fair enough. I figured you’d be brooding by a window somewhere.”
A long pause stretched between them before Julian added, without turning, “Shouldn’t you be with your mate?”
Jace exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against a nearby column. “We talked for a while,” he said. “Got a lot out in the open. And yeah… damn, it was really hard not to go back to her room and make her officially mine.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “But it’s better this way. I need to stay focused. At least until we get through what’s ahead.”
Julian’s shoulders rose with a slow breath — the kind taken before saying something irreversible. Then he turned, finally meeting Jace’s eyes.
“No, Jace… see, this is where you and I part ways.”
He let the words hang for a beat.
“You’re not coming with me.”
Jace lets out a sharp laugh—but there’s no humor in it.
“No. You don’t get to pull that shit on me.”
He walks to the window, standing beside him.
“You really think I’d rather be warm and naked with my mate than freezing my ass off in arctic hell with you?”
He smirks.
“You bet your ass I would—”
The smirk fades.
“But I didn’t come this far just to let you walk into hell alone.
I made you a promise, Julian. And I meant it.
Because I’m your ride-or-die.
Your brother in arms.
Your sword and shadow.”
Julian’s gaze drifted back to the horizon, voice low and sharp.
“You heard Lazarus yourself. This isn’t some walk through the damn park, Jace. It’s brutal. It’s dangerous. I’m risking my life heading to that gate—hell, we both know I may not come back. And I’ll be damned if I drag you into that kind of storm.”
Jace didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. He took a slow breath, grounding himself.
“You’re not dragging me anywhere,” he said calmly. “I’m choosing this. Choosing to have your back.”
His voice grew firmer. “We would do this for anyone we care about. If it were my mate on the line, you’d be right beside me, sword drawn, no questions asked. I know you would.”
He stepped closer, loyalty written in every line of his body.
“Now I know… I know exactly what she means to you. Since that morning I met her, I just—” he paused—
“I knew.”
Julian turned to him slowly, tension etched across his face.
“You knew she was my mate?”
Jace’s eyes softened.
“No,” he said, voice steady. “I knew she was my Luna.”
Julian looked at Jace and gave a little half smile, something tired but real tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
His voice was low—almost fond.
“But I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Jace clapped a hand on Julian’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what you’d do without me either.”
Julian let out a low laugh, the sound rough in his chest.
He shook his head slightly, then turned back to the window, the early sun spilling gold across the distant hills. A quiet sigh left him—half bracing, half grieving—as if he were trying to steel himself for a war he knew might cost more than just blood.
By the time the sun had long crested the horizon, both men stood near the base of the stairs—geared up in black-on-black tactical wear designed for endurance and survival, reinforced at the joints, padded where it counted.
Julian adjusted the weight of his bag and glanced toward the hallway, where Jace stood beside Maddy. She was saying something softly, one hand resting lightly on his arm, her thumb brushing over the fabric near his wrist.
Julian paused, then offered a short nod.
“I’ll meet you in the car.”
Then he turned and walked away—giving them a moment.
Maddy’s voice trembled slightly, her expression raw as she looked up at Jace.
“We’ve only just found each other… and you’re already leaving me.”
Jace exhaled through his nose, the pain etched across her face nearly undoing him. He reached up and gently brushed a strand of red hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear with slow, deliberate care.
“I don’t want to,” he murmured. “Believe me, Maddy… I don’t want to. But—”
She cut him off softly.
“I know.”
Without another word, she reached into the pocket of her jacket and withdrew a small glass vial—no larger than her thumb. The liquid inside shimmered like molten gold streaked with ember-red.
She placed it in his palm and wrapped his fingers tightly around it, holding his hand there a moment longer than necessary.
“Keep this with you,” she said, her voice low and serious. “Always. As if your life depends on it… because it just might.”
He raised a brow. “What is it?”
“It’s Wyrmwell potion,” she replied. “A healing elixir powerful enough to reverse even fatal wounds. But…”
Her voice dropped. “That’s the only one I have. It takes three dragon scales to make. And those are extremely difficult to come by.”
His eyes widened. “Wait… seriously?” He gave a soft laugh, skeptical. “Dragons aren’t real.”
Maddy didn’t laugh. She just looked at him.
He blinked.
“Right?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about this world, Jace.”
A chill crept up his spine at the way she said it.
Not ominous. Not mystical.
Just true.
And the truth, he realized, might be darker—and more wondrous—than anything he was prepared for.
He tucked the potion carefully into a padded pocket of his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
Then he turned back to her, pressing his palm gently to her cheek. She leaned into it, eyes already glistening, and covered his hand with hers.
“Please come back to me,” she whispered.
Jace swallowed hard, his voice thick with something unspoken.
“I’ll crawl back through hell itself if I have to.”
He smiled faintly.
“You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted to come home to.”
Then he kissed her—slow and firm and lingering—like he didn’t know how to say goodbye.
So he kissed her like it was a promise.
They broke the kiss slowly, lips lingering just a breath longer before they parted. Neither moved right away—just stood there, forehead to forehead, sharing one final moment suspended between what was and what was about to be.
Maddy’s voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.
“Remember…” she said, her fingers still curled lightly in his. “Be wary of what you see. And what you hear. Not everything is what it seems.”
Jace nodded, the words settling heavily in his chest. Their fingertips brushed one last time as he pulled away, reluctant, the space between them stretching with every step he took toward the door.
Maddy didn’t follow.
She stood there, unmoving, eyes shimmering as she watched him go.
The door closed with a soft click behind him.