Chapter 17 : The Primal Anchor (Rune's Healing Bond)
The air in the private training hall was thick with the scent of old cedar and the sharp metallic tang of my own awakening power. I stood at the center of the matted floor, silver eyes cutting through the shadows where Caspian and Kael waited. They looked like twin pillars of tension, their jealousy so potent it pressed against my skin like a physical force.
“You don’t have to do this with him first,” Caspian growled, his hand locked tight around the hilt of his blade. “I’m the heir. My energy is the strongest anchor.”
“Your energy is a wildfire,” Kael cut in, voice cool and precise. “And mine is a scalpel. But Lyra is right. To stabilize the Triple Soul, she needs the grounding of the primal. She needs Rune.”
Rune stepped out of the darkness.
His massive frame seemed to swallow the space. He wasn’t wearing his Enforcer jacket or tactical vest. Bare-chested, scarred, inked, he looked like something forged for war and never meant to rest. His eyes were dark, focused, predatory.
“Out,” Rune said.
It wasn’t a request.
“Rune—” Caspian took a step forward.
“I said out,” Rune repeated, his voice dropping into a subsonic growl that made the floorboards tremble. “You want her stable? Then let me work. Your jealousy is feeding the fever. You’re making her vibrate. Leave us.”
Kael caught Caspian’s arm. “He’s right. We’re interference. Come.”
The iron doors slammed shut behind them, sealing us inside. Silence crashed down, heavy and absolute, broken only by the frantic thrum of my own heart.
“You’re terrified,” Rune said.
It was the first time he’d spoken directly to me since the mirror shattered.
“I’m a bomb,” I whispered, staring at my trembling hands. “Every time I touch one of you, something explodes. How is this supposed to heal me?”
“Because they want to direct the power,” Rune replied, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. “Caspian wants to wield it. Kael wants to map it. I just want to hold it.”
He stopped inches away. Heat rolled off him, different from Caspian’s burning fire. This was deeper, heavier, rooted. He smelled like rain-soaked earth and raw musk.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered.
“Rune—”
“Close them, Lyra. Stop trying to see the energy. Feel it.”
I obeyed.
The darkness rushed in—and then his hands were on my waist. Massive. Calloused. Burning hot. I gasped as a fever spike ripped through my spine, my back arching as silver light flared behind my eyelids.
“The fever’s coming,” I panted, clutching his forearms. “It’s too much. It’s going to burn me out.”
“No,” Rune growled into my ear. “It’s not too much. It’s just looking for somewhere to go. Give it to me.”
He pulled me hard against his chest. The contact was a shock of grounding force. Silver sparks leapt between our skin, but he didn’t flinch. He wrapped his arms around me, pinning me there, becoming a living lightning rod.
“Let it spike,” he murmured. “Don’t fight it. Use it to find me.”
He tilted my head back, fingers dragging across the mark on my neck—the one he’d given me in the gym. The sensation cut through me, sharp pleasure fused with power. The fever surged, but instead of pressure, I felt released. Energy poured out of me and into him, clean and honest.
“That’s it,” he said softly. “I’m your anchor. You don’t fall as long as I’m holding you.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, breath shaking. “You were supposed to be the one who broke me for your father.”
Rune pulled back just enough to meet my eyes.
The silent soldier was gone. In his place stood a man stripped bare by truth.
“I don’t care about the Thorne name,” he said, voice cracking with emotion he’d buried for years. “I don’t care about territory or lineage. I am yours, Lyra. I’ve been yours since the moment I saw you in that cage. You’re not my ward. You’re my Alpha.”
The shock of it hit harder than any surge. The most dangerous wolf in the Thorne pack was kneeling before me in spirit.
“Rune…”
“I don’t serve the man who made me a monster,” he continued, grip tightening as the last silver tremors faded. “I serve the Queen who survived him. I’ll be your shield. Your floor. Your wall. But you have to trust the bond. You have to trust me.”
He lowered his mouth to my neck again, teeth grazing the mark, reinforcing rather than claiming. His scent flooded the space—slate, rain, submission. The fever leveled. The silver glow dimmed into something I could breathe through.
I rested my forehead against his collarbone. For the first time in my life, I felt safe—not because danger was gone, but because I wasn’t facing it alone.
“You’ve been keeping secrets,” I whispered. “In the Hall… you weren’t just protecting me from the shackles.”
Rune stiffened.
“Tell me,” I said.
He glanced toward the iron doors before answering.
“In the cells,” he said quietly. “Back when Thorne had me whipped for failing to report your progress. You thought it was punishment.”
“It wasn’t?”
“That was the cover,” Rune rasped. “He showed me what he’d hidden beneath the manor. A soul-crusher. Designed for Silver Lunas. He told me if I didn’t keep you in line—if the seal broke early—he’d erase your mind. Turn you into a doll for the Fae.”
Ice flooded my veins. “He threatened me to control you.”
“He used you to make me obedient,” Rune said, cupping my face, his thumb trembling. “I took everything so he wouldn’t look at you too closely. I hid how much I loved you because if he’d known, you’d already be gone.”
“Does Caspian know?”
“No one does,” Rune whispered. “The artifact is still here. Somewhere beneath us. He didn’t use it in the Hall because he wanted your power intact—but if he’s cornered…”
A deep metallic thud echoed from below. Not doors. Not walls.
The foundation.
“He’s not done,” I said, silver light flaring again.
“He’s moving pieces,” Rune replied, hand dropping to his dagger. “Weapons we haven’t seen.”
“We find the artifact,” I said, gripping his hand. “Before he does.”
The floor vibrated. A low hum rose through the stone—ancient, dark, waking.
The healing had revealed something worse than the curse.
Lord Thorne still had a way to win.
And time was already running out.