I instinctively held my son tighter. “What are you trying to do?”

“How can I trust Ethan to stay with you when you’re in this state?” Kurt’s voice was cold.

“No.” I staggered back. “He is my son. I will not be separated from him.”

Kurt’s gaze hardened into ice. He tore Ethan from my arms. The little one wailed, claws curling, ears pressed flat in fear.

“Give him back to me!” I reached for them, but Kurt kicked me aside. My waist slammed into the sharp corner of a stone chest, and a strangled cry escaped me.

For a moment, Kurt’s back stiffened, but he never turned around. He lifted Zelda gently and left the cavern… carrying my child.

The door shut. Darkness swallowed me whole.

When consciousness returned, everything was washed in pale white.

The ceiling of our den.

I turned my head. Kurt sat beside me. He stirred the moment I moved and brushed a hand across my cheek. “You’re awake. Do you feel unwell?”

“I…” My throat scraped like sand. No sound came out at first.

Kurt quickly pressed a cup of heated springwater to my lips. “You were unconscious for a full day and night. Why didn’t you tell me your blood-essence drops so easily? I was terrified when you collapsed.”

His concern looked real. His voice gentle.

Gentle enough to almost make me forget he had locked his mate and their child inside a storage cavern to suffocate.

Almost.

A day and a night.

Only four more days. Then I would be gone.

I forced myself upright. “Where is Ethan?”

He pressed me back into the furs. “Don’t worry. Zelda is tending to him.”

“What?” My heart clenched. I shoved him away and stood.

Kurt seized my wrist and threw me back onto the bedding. “What are you doing?” His jaw tightened, as if holding back rage. “Yvonne, you need rest.”

Fear and fury surged hot through my veins. “You left my child with Zelda. How do you expect me to rest?”

“Yvonne!” Kurt erupted, pacing beside the bed, then snapping, “Why are you so hostile toward Zelda? You two used to get along.”

“Yes,” I laughed, bitter and cracked. “I once treated her like a sister. But what did she do? Have you ever asked? Have you ever cared to know?”

“You—”

A woman’s scream burst from the next chamber.

Then a baby’s cry—raw, choking, desperate.

I shoved Kurt out of the way and sprinted into the nursery hollow.

The sight froze my blood.

Ethan lay on his back, his tiny chest heaving, his face burning red as he coughed and gagged. Curled milk—too thick, too sweet—covered his cheeks, his chest, the bedding beneath him.

Zelda stood off to the side, wiping her tunic with a cloth, her face twisted in irritation, not concern.

I swept Ethan into my arms, patting his back, trying to clear his airway. As I pressed him close, I saw angry red welts blooming across his forehead and chest.

A reaction. A strong one.

Kurt turned to Zelda first. “What happened?”

I demanded, “Zelda, what did you feed him?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Only some clan-milk mash.”

Kurt immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Why are you blaming her? She is still just a girl.”

I stared at him, disbelief clawing through me. “You trusted her with Ethan? Did you check if he reacts to mountain-milk? Did you even look at him when you walked in?”

“Enough!” Kurt roared, the sound rattling the cavern walls. “Zelda did her best to care for him. And you? You only ever find fault.”

“Yvonne, your jealousy, your bitterness… it disgusts me.”

I was stunned.

Disgusting?

“No,” I shook my head with a bitter smile. “Kurt, you are the one who makes me sick.”

“Don’t argue,” Zelda cut in, her voice trembling as she forced out a sob. “It’s my fault. Sister has every right to blame me.”

Kurt immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body, disappointment darkening his eyes. “Look at Zelda. Doesn’t that make you feel ashamed?”

Suddenly, an old memory nudged at me.

I met Kurt’s gaze. “Do you remember what you told me the night you asked me to be your mate?”

For a moment, his expression went blank.

That brief flicker made everything feel absurd. I laughed softly, bitterly. “You said I was more important than your life.”

He looked away. “You weren’t like this back then.”

“So you changed your mind?”

“I didn’t.” His voice rose abruptly, almost desperate. “Yvonne, of course I love you. But Zelda’s parents saved my life, and I promised them—”

“Enough.” I turned, Ethan still trembling in my arms. “It’s been six years. I’ve heard enough.”

At the healer’s cavern, the tribe’s spirit doctor took one look at Ethan and his face turned grim.

“What were you thinking? Even if a pup this young isn’t allergic to sea-creatures, you cannot grind fire-shrimp into milk-root mash. Had you arrived one moment later, he might not have survived.”

My head swam. “Fire-shrimp?”

The healer frowned at my tone and sighed. “Find a new caretaker. Whoever fed him this… did not do so with good intent.”

Zelda.

My legs nearly gave out.

I had almost lost Ethan.

I steadied my voice. “Can you prepare a written record of his test findings?”

After returning to the den, I drafted the separation pact.

In the garden hollow, Kurt hovered anxiously around Zelda. “Your wound hasn’t closed. Don’t strain yourself.”

Zelda smiled faintly as she loosened the soil around a small sapling. “I’m only tending the earth. I’m fine.”

“That is the intertwined tree you planted for me. I want it to grow strong. Even if I can’t stay by your side, I’ll still have it.”

Kurt grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t say that. I planted that tree for you. It means we’ll be together forever. Don’t you believe that?”

My mind went blank for a moment.

A sharp ache tightened my chest.

A new sapling stood in the best part of the garden.

Not long ago, a tree had grown there—the Albizia lovers’ tree we planted on the day we forged our mate-bond. It symbolized eternal love.

After Ethan was born, Kurt had said he wanted a tree for him in that sacred spot, a symbol of strength for our child. He claimed he moved the Albizia for Ethan’s sake.

It was a lie.

He didn’t want a place for our son.

He wanted a place for Zelda.

I drew in a long breath, walked over, and opened the separation pact to the signature page. “I want to register Ethan in an insurance scroll. Sign this.”

“Why are you here?” Kurt cleared his throat, uneasy. “Don’t you already have protections for him? Why add another?”

He reached to read the document.

As I moved to block him, Zelda tugged on his sleeve. “Kurt, go ahead and speak with her. I’ll wait outside.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you.”

“No need.”

He shoved the scroll back into my hands. “Leave it in the study. I’ll sign it once I’ve read it.”

I grabbed his wrist. “I’ve read it. Just sign.”

He frowned, glanced nervously at Zelda, already holding the doorway open.

He scribbled his signature quickly, then ran after her without looking back.

“That’s it.”

I stood there dazed.

Just like that, our six-year mate-bond ended—so carelessly, so disgracefully.

I walked into the pup’s chamber and pressed a kiss to Ethan’s warm little forehead.

“Baby… we’re free now.”

That night, I slept in the pup’s chamber while Kurt stayed in Zelda’s den.

On the first night after signing the separation pact, we silently completed our parting.

In the following days, I finalized the clan’s dissolution rites and sorted through my personal tokens and assets.

Kurt still spent time with Ethan and me during daylight hours, but each night, he returned to Zelda’s sleeping furs.

He held Ethan, patting her tiny back to soothe her, murmuring to himself, “When she is better, we will take a family carving together.”

“Perhaps we should make one every year.”

I forced a smile. Not a good idea. I leave at dawn.

Kurt, there is no future for us.

The night before my departure, I carried Ethan into the master cavern.

Only one token of me remained on the wall: our mating carving.

“Sister, are you still awake?”

The familiar rose-sweet scent drifted in. I tensed. “What are you doing here?”

Zelda stepped inside carrying a lit herbal flame-lamp. “Kurt gifted me a set today. The scent is Albizzia. He said you might like it since I do not.”

My hands curled into fists.

Once, Kurt gave me everything I loved.

When did I become someone who received what Zelda rejected?

Zelda smiled, though something sharp glinted beneath. “Do you know what happened to the Albizzia tree in the garden hollow?”

I shook my head. It didn’t matter anymore. That place now belonged to their ‘bond tree.’

“Burned to ash,” she whispered. “I saw Kurt light the fire himself.”

I told myself it did not matter. Yet my heart ached all the same.

Seeing no reaction, Zelda let her smile fade. She watched me for a long moment, then flicked her hand.

The lamp flew from her grasp, striking the curtain of woven grass.

Flames erupted instantly.

“What are you doing?”

She shut the door behind her, madness flashing in her eyes. “Tell me, who do you think Kurt will save?”

Then she contorted her face in terror and shoved me hard.

“Yvonne! What are you doing? Kurt, help me!”

The flames surged, and I turned my back to shield Ethan.

Pain tore through me.

I hit the ground, rolling to extinguish the fire on my skin. The agony drained every breath in my body.

The smoke thickened. Kurt kicked open the door and saw Zelda first.

“Zelda! Get up!”

“My legs… Kurt, they hurt so much,” she cried.

“Come here. I’ve got you.”

“Kurt…” I rasped, “Please… help me. Take Ethan…”

“Yvonne.” He finally turned toward me and froze at the sight of my burned back.

“Don’t fear. I’ll take you to the healer’s cave. They will mend you. There won’t be a scar.”

“Cough… cough… Kurt…”

Zelda’s coughing shattered his resolve.

He drew his hand away from mine.

“There is too much smoke. Zelda’s throat cannot handle it, Yvonne.”

“Kurt!” I grabbed his wrist with the last of my strength. “Take Ethan out first. Please.”

“Kurt… cough… cough…”

His panic hardened into decision.

He tore his hand from mine and turned away.

“Yvonne, hold on. I will send someone for you.”

“Kurt!”

Flames rose between us like a wall, drawing a brutal line.

Zelda’s throat mattered more than my life or our pup’s.

I should have known.

Holding Ethan close, tears burned down my face. “I’m sorry, little one. I failed you again.”

Just as all hope drained away, the window covering shattered.

A tall figure stepped through the fire.

“Midnight,” the Ferryman said, extending his hand. “Seems I arrived just in time.”

From the sky-beast’s saddle, I watched the fire devour the mating carving on the wall.

Every last trace of me in that den was gone.

Kurt, we will never meet again.