The halls of Drakoryth’s estate were dim with late light when Thareon and Sylus returned. Golden streaks of dusk pooled on the black stone, casting long shadows from the high-arched windows.

Vireth stood waiting in the central chamber, her presence calm but expectant, a glass of blood-orange wine untouched in her hand. She didn’t wear her crown, only a loose crimson coat over black silk. She didn’t need the gold or the title to command a room. She never had.

She looked straight at Sylus.

He didn’t pause. He didn’t soften.

“She didn’t feel it,” he said flatly. “The bond.”

Vireth tilted her head. “But you did.”

“The second she entered the room,” Sylus replied. “My dragon snapped to attention like it had found gravity for the first time. But… she just looked through me.”

Thareon stepped around to the side, folding his arms. “She mentioned her chosen one. He backed off.”

Vireth sighed softly and turned to the fire. “Of course, she has more than one.”

Sylus blinked, frowning. “More than one what?”

She looked over her shoulder. “Bond.”

“What does that even mean?” he asked.

Vireth crossed to the hearth and set down her glass. Her fingers dragged lightly along the mantle as she spoke.

“She’s an evolver, Sylus.”

Thareon’s brow lifted. Sylus’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a real classification.”

“It is,” Vireth said. “It’s just not taught. The older term is Pandora.”

That caught both of them.

“Pandoras,” Vireth explained, “were rare, born with a depth of magic so vast, so unstable, it couldn’t be measured. As they age, they don’t plateau like the rest of us. Their mana doesn’t settle. It grows. Always. Even into old age. Even past death, in some cases. It adapts. Evolves. Devours anything that touches it — and integrates it.”

Sylus stared. “That sounds… dangerous.”

“It is,” she said. “You can curse them, and they’ll survive it. Turn them into vampires, and they won’t suffer bloodlust. Bind them to ten artifacts, and they’ll learn all ten. Their bodies adapt to what would destroy anyone else.”

Thareon’s tone turned cool. “And she’s one of them?”

“She’s the one,” Vireth said. “The strongest evolver we’ve seen in over a millennium.”

Sylus was still absorbing it. “How the hell did she survive childhood?”

“She almost didn’t,” Vireth said. “When she was born, her mana was so dense it nearly ruptured her lungs. She couldn’t breathe without destabilizing the wards in the room. Valethrina and I had to place the Seal of Aetherion on her within the hour, and it took both of us to seal her.”

Thareon looked up. “That seal hasn’t been used in centuries.”

“It was the only thing that could contain her,” Vireth replied. “It suppresses the mana flow in infants born with too much power to manage. It lasts until they’re old enough — and trained enough — to regulate it.”

Sylus muttered, “And that seal’s broken now?”

Vireth nodded. “Most likely. The moment she took control of herself — unlocked — it would have dissolved.”

Sylus paced a step, then turned back. “So what does this have to do with me?”

Vireth’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because all evolvers throughout history have had more than one bond.”

Sylus went still. “All?”

“There’s never been a single-bonded evolver,” she said. “Not one. No matter the race, background, or bloodline. They all needed more than one anchor to remain whole.”

“Why?” Sylus asked, voice quiet but sharp.

“Because one person can’t contain all of them,” Thareon answered. “Not without burning out. Or worse.”

“She has a chosen one,” Vireth said. “Damien. That bond was sealed when her demonic bloodline reached maturity.”

“Then what am I?” Sylus asked.

Vireth walked toward him slowly. “You’re what her light side chose, perhaps. But why she didn't feel it...that I dont know."

Sylus sat heavily in the nearest chair, brow furrowed. “She looked at me like I was no one.”

“She hasn’t felt it yet,” Vireth said gently.

Sylus’s jaw worked silently for a moment.

“I’ve never thought my mate would ignore me.”

“She’s not ignoring you,” Thareon said. “She doesn't know you exist for some reason.”

Sylus looked up at both of them.

“I don’t want to share my mate.”

Sylus’s voice echoed against the vaulted stone of the Drakoryth study, low and firm, not wild or angry — just final. He stood near the hearth, shoulders tense, jaw locked. There was no tantrum in him. No envy. Just a brutal, quiet rejection of the reality he’d been handed.

Vireth stood across from him, arms crossed. Regal. Composed. Unmoved.

“And yet,” she said calmly, “you may have to.”

Sylus turned sharply. “You say that like it’s reasonable.”

“I say that because it’s real,” she answered, voice crisp. “Because you are not the only one in this.”

Thareon watched from a seat behind them, silent as stone but fully present.

Sylus took a slow breath through his nose. “She’s mine.”

“I believe you,” Vireth said.

“She’s my mate. My dragon, my soul — it’s screaming. And she looked at me like I was nothing.”

“She didn’t feel the bond,” Vireth reminded him.

“And why not?” Sylus snapped.

Vireth met his anger without flinching.

“We don’t know.”

The words landed like stone.

Even Sylus went still.

“We don’t understand it,” she continued. “Not me, not your father, not even the old records. Her bond to you is silent. Sleeping. Hidden under layers we haven’t seen before. It’s not rejection, Sylus. It’s… inaccessibility.”

He looked away, fists clenched at his sides.

“But that doesn’t change that she’s already claimed someone else,” Vireth added.

Silence.

Then she stepped closer, her voice lower, sharper.

“Try walking in her shoes.”

Sylus turned slowly back toward her.

“She already has a bond,” Vireth said. “One she chose without magic. One born of years together. Shared battles. Shared scars. Loyalty. Friendship. Love.”

She let the word hang there — love — because it mattered more than any soulmark could.

“She gave herself to someone freely,” Vireth said. “Before fate told her who she was ‘meant’ for. And now you walk in, uninvited, burning with a bond she can’t feel. What do you think that makes you to her?”

Sylus’s jaw worked.

Vireth didn’t wait.

“You’re an intruder,” she said. “A disruptor. A question mark in a life where she thought she already had the answer.”

“I didn’t choose this,” Sylus murmured, quieter now.

“No,” Vireth agreed. “But neither did she.”

He sank slowly into a chair, dragging a hand through his hair.

“She didn’t even hesitate. She talked about Damien like he was the air. And me? I was just... background.”

“She sees him as hers,” Vireth said. “Because he is.”

Sylus looked up at her, jaw tight. “So what do I do?”

Vireth walked to his side and sat.

“You expose it to her.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You show her the bond,” she said. “Not by claiming her. Not by challenging him. But by letting her feel you. See you. Come to know the part of her that already knows you’re there — even if her mind hasn’t caught up.”

“She doesn’t even recognize me.”

“Yet.”

Sylus looked to Thareon, who hadn’t spoken since they entered.

The king finally said, “This won’t be something you can force. It will take time. Stillness. Patience.”

“Patience,” Sylus echoed.

Vireth touched his hand briefly.

“She chose love before fate,” she said. “If you want a place in her future, you must earn it the same way.”

“And if she never does?”

Vireth didn’t blink.

“Then you carry it. Quietly. Because you were chosen too — not to be loved easily, but to love without demand.”

Sylus said nothing for a long time.

The fire flickered behind him.

And in his chest, the bond pulsed quietly — waiting for a heart that didn’t yet hear it.