Chapter 22: The Price of Magic

 

Killian didn't take the page immediately. He stood in front of me, a protective wall of muscle and suspicion.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. "And why do you have Royal property?"

The old woman chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. She shuffled forward, her milky eyes fixed on a point just above Killian’s shoulder.

"I am the Keeper," she rasped. "I sweep the dust. I keep the secrets. And I waited for the day a King would come down here not for power, but for love."

She extended her bony hand again, the yellowed parchment fluttering slightly.

"Take it, Wolf King. Read the price Queen Lysandra paid."

Killian hesitated, then snatched the paper. He moved back to the light, pulling me with him so I could read it too.

It was the missing bottom half of the entry. The ink was red—dried blood, perhaps?

“...the ritual of Soul Binding requires a conduit. To balance the light and the dark, the parents must offer a sacrifice. Not of blood, but of bond.”

“Queen Lysandra gave up her Wolf Spirit to the forest. She lived the rest of her days as a human, weak and fragile, so her sons could live as Kings.”

I gasped. For a werewolf, losing their wolf was worse than death. It was like losing a limb, a soul.

"She gave up her wolf?" I whispered, looking at Killian. "That was the price?"

Killian’s face was grim. "A heavy price. A wolf-less Luna is vulnerable. No wonder she died young."

The Keeper tapped her staff on the stone floor. Click. Click.

"That was her price," the old woman corrected. "The Moon Witch demands a different payment from every seeker. It is never what you expect. It is always what you fear losing the most."

She shuffled closer to me. Before Killian could stop her, she reached out and grabbed my wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong, her skin like cold parchment.

"You," she whispered, leaning in. "You carry the Storm. Double chaos."

"Let her go," Killian growled, stepping forward, his eyes flashing gold.

"Peace, King," the woman said, releasing me. "I am not your enemy. I am giving you a warning."

She pointed a crooked finger toward the map on the wall—toward the Whispering Woods.

"The Woods are not just trees and wolves. They are a mirror. They reflect your doubts. Your lies. Your insecurities."

She looked from me to Killian.

"The Mist will try to separate you. It will show you visions of him betraying you," she said to me. Then she turned to Killian. "And it will show you visions of her abandoning you."

"We trust each other," Killian stated firmly, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Your tricks won't work."

"Trust is easy in a palace," the Keeper said, a sad smile ghosting her lips. "Trust is hard when you are starving, lost, and surrounded by shadows whispering your darkest secrets."

She turned and began to walk back into the darkness.

"Only those with the purest bond can find the Moon Witch's hut. If there is even a crack in your love... the woods will widen it until it becomes a canyon."

Her voice faded as she disappeared into the gloom.

"Go now. Before the snow falls. And remember... the price must be paid willingly."

We stood alone in the silence of the Archives. The torn page felt heavy in Killian’s hand.

"She gave up her wolf," I repeated, looking at the paper. "Killian, if the price is your wolf... or mine..."

"We will pay it," Killian said without hesitation. He turned to me, gripping my shoulders. "I would give up my wolf, my crown, and my life to save them. You know that, right?"

"I know," I said, reaching up to cup his face. "I would do the same."

"Then we have nothing to fear from the woods," he said, though his eyes were dark with worry.

He folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

"Let's go, Elena. We have a long drive. And I need to get you proper gear. We aren't walking into a death trap unprepared."

As we climbed the stairs, leaving the secrets of the past behind, I couldn't shake the old woman's words.

It will show you visions of him betraying you.

I looked at Killian’s broad back. He was my protector. My mate. My King.

But as we stepped out into the blinding sunlight, a tiny, cold sliver of doubt pricked my heart.

Could I really trust him completely? Or was I just a desperate girl who fell in love with her savior?

The Whispering Woods were waiting to find out.