Chapter 6: Unraveling More Than Magic

Cordelia's Pov 

The curse didn't want to die quietly. As I worked to untangle the last threads of dark magic from Lysander's soul, the malevolent energy fought back with the viciousness of a cornered animal. 

Each strand I severed sent shockwaves of pain through both of us, and I was beginning to understand why the pack healers had failed so spectacularly.

"It's anchored," I gasped, my hands trembling against his chest as another wave of agony crashed over us. "The curse isn't just feeding on your life force, it's become part of it."

Lysander's eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched so tightly I was surprised his teeth didn't crack. "Meaning?"

"Meaning removing it completely might kill you anyway." I pressed my forehead against his shoulder, trying to center myself through the overwhelming sensations flooding our connection. 

"Your great-great-grandmother really knew how to hold a grudge."

"Blackthorne women," he managed with what might have been an attempt at humour, "have always been formidable."

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "Flatterer."

The mating bond pulsed between us, and suddenly I could feel more than just his physical pain. Five years of carefully buried regret crashed into my consciousness like a tidal wave. 

His anguish at the mating ceremony, the way he'd forced himself to say words that felt like swallowing glass. The nights he'd spent pacing his study, wondering if he'd made the right choice.

"Stop," I whispered, pulling back to look at him. "Stop letting me see this."

"I can't control it," he said, eyes still closed. "The connection is too strong."

More images flooded through the bond. Lysander standing at his window, watching the road that led to my cottage. 

The times he'd driven halfway to my studio before turning back. The relief and terror he'd felt when the council letter was sent.

"You could have visited," I said, my hands stilling in their work. "Any time in the past five years, you could have come to see me."

His eyes opened, meeting mine with startling intensity. "And said what? That I was sorry? That I'd made a mistake? You'd built a new life, Delia. A life without the pack, without all this supernatural nonsense. I had no right to disrupt that."

"That wasn't your choice to make."

"Wasn't it?" His hands tightened over mine. "You were finally free. Free from pack politics, from the pressure of being an alpha's mate, from having your worth determined by bloodlines and breeding potential. I couldn't take that away from you again."

The curse chose that moment to surge, sending tendrils of darkness toward my own life force. I jerked back instinctively, breaking our connection, and Lysander collapsed to his knees with a sound that was half-growl, half-human cry of pain.

"Delia!" Cordy's voice cut through the haze of agony. "You have to maintain contact. If you break the connection now…"

"I know," I snapped, dropping down beside Lysander and placing my hands on his shoulders. The moment we reconnected, the curse's attack intensified, recognizing me as a genuine threat now.

It was old magic, older than I'd initially realized. Not just the work of one bitter woman, but something that had been building for generations. 

The accumulated resentment of every Blackthorne who’d ever been deemed insufficient by the Ashworth family burned beneath my skin like a second heartbeat.

It wasn’t just mine, it was inherited, passed down through every whispered insult, every closed door, every comparison that painted us as the lesser branch of the bloodline. 

We were the shadows in their spotlight, the convenient scapegoats, the forgotten names left out of family histories unless they needed a reminder of who not to become. 

But we remembered. All of us. The bitterness, the injustice, the way they smiled while cutting us down with polished words and perfectly controlled expressions. 

It festered quietly over the years, growing sharper, louder, heavier. And now, it lived in me, this legacy of anger, pride, and the burning need to finally be seen. 

"Your ancestors," I said through gritted teeth, "were remarkably good at making enemies."

"Family talent," Lysander managed, his breathing laboured. "We excel at... at arrogance."

I could feel him weakening as the curse and my healing efforts waged war in his system. Whatever I was going to do, it had to be soon.

"There's another way," I said, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "But you're not going to like it."

He looked up at me, sweat-dampened hair falling across his forehead. "Tell me."

"The curse is tied to rejection, to the breaking of the mate bond. To truly destroy it, we'd have to..." I swallowed hard. "We'd have to complete the original bond. Properly this time."

The silence in the chamber was deafening. Even the candle flames seemed to still.

"No," Margaret's voice cut through the quiet like a blade. "Absolutely not. There has to be another way."

"There isn't," Cordy said quietly. "The girl is right. The curse feeds on the broken bond, on the pain of rejection. Only by healing that original wound can it be truly destroyed."

I felt rather than saw Lysander's reaction. A complex tangle of hope and fear and desperate longing that made my chest ache.

"Delia," he said carefully, "you don't have to…"

"I know I don't have to," I interrupted. "That's rather the point, isn't it? It has to be freely given, or it won't work at all."

I studied his face, seeing past the fever and pain to the man I'd once loved with every fiber of my being. The man who'd hurt me so deeply I'd had to rebuild myself from the ground up. 

The man who was now offering me a choice with no pressure, no expectations, no demands.

"If I do this," I said slowly, "it's not forgiveness. It's not me saying what you did was acceptable, or that we can just pick up where we left off five years ago."

"I know."

"And it's not a guarantee that there's any future for us beyond breaking this curse."

"I know that too."

I looked around the chamber, at the expectant faces watching our every move. Margaret's barely concealed horror. Rupert's careful neutrality. Cordy's knowing smile. And I realized that for the first time in five years, the choice was entirely mine.

"Right then," I said, placing my hands over his heart. "Let's fix this properly."

The moment I opened myself fully to the connection, the world disappeared in a blaze of light and sensation and the overwhelming rightness of two souls finally, truly joining as one.