The map room was silent.
Only the sound of firelight flickering against parchment and old war glass filled the air. Fin stood at the long oak table, one hand resting on the continent of Varos, the other gripping a crystal of bloodroot wine he hadn't touched.
He'd been staring at Nova's name in the daily report for ten minutes.
She'd done something again. Another incident he wasn't there for.
Broken a cursed object. Glowed. Fainted. And Jax had carried her — again. A muscle in his jaw ticked.
The door creaked open.
Aeron stepped inside, robes shifting like smoke, a bundle of sealed scrolls under one arm.
"She's stable," the mage said without preamble. "She has a fever and her heart rate's still irregular. Magical signature."
Finric turned, slowly.
"What kind of signature?"
Aeron approached the table and unfurled a tightly rolled vellum, revealing a series of sigil rings — the kind used to identify magic types, bloodline traces, and resonance echoes.
He tapped the center ring. "Lunar-sourced. Ancient. Fused with something else I haven't identified yet. It reacted to cursed iron like it was divine interference."
Finric's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying she purified it?"
Aeron nodded. "Not consciously. Which is the problem."
He paused, then looked Finric in the eye.
"She needs training. Now. Before someone else realizes what she is and starts whispering words like 'weapon' or 'threat.'"
Finric's stomach tightened. He would not let it come to that. In a low voice, he asked Aeron, "You think she's a threat?"
Aeron's gaze didn't waver. "I don't know yet. But I do know she is kind and not like the Ashbanes. We need to train her to protect her. That kind of power, unchecked, is what starts wars."
Finric said nothing.
Aeron waited — then added, more gently, "You already know that. Or she'd still be locked in the tower."
Finric's grip on the edge of the table tightened slightly. "You want permission."
"Yes. To train her. Quietly. Safely. Somewhere off the books."
Finric didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Finric was quiet a moment longer.
Then nodded once. "Do it. But let's keep this between us. I don't want anyone outside this circle seeing what she's capable of."
"Understood."
Aeron hesitated — then set another scroll on the table, sealed with black wax.
"Cael returns in a few days, is that correct?"
Finric nodded.
"He completed his mission faster than expected."
Aeron noted, "He'll know something's off the moment he sees Jax watching her the way he does."
Finric's jaw clenched. "It seems my Gamma has too much time on his hands. We will make sure they aren't spending too much time together. I don't want him or Cael to get attached to this omega until we figure out if she has a place here."
Aeron raised an eyebrow. "You could tell him."
Aeron turned back, his storm-grey eyes sharp, but not unkind.
"You haven't said anything. But I see the way you guard her name when it's spoken."
Finric kept his face neutral. "She's under my protection. That's all."
Aeron let the silence stretch a beat.
"Of course," he said finally.
He stepped back into the shadows of the hall and disappeared.
Finric stayed where he was.
Alone now, staring down at the broken rune ring Aeron had left behind — still faintly glowing with residual magic.
His fingers hovered over it.
But he didn't touch it.
Mine. Mate.
The word pressed against his mind like a blade against skin.
Unrelenting.
Unforgiving.
He clenched his fist and turned away.