The only hope( chapt.5)

Akira’s POV

For hours now, the healer from the ancient mountains had been within Kaiden's chambers, and the tension had risen to boiling proportions. Dawn had only recently broken, but I had spent the better part of the morning attempting to soothe Lyrein, to no avail.

His usual calm expression had broken at last, yielding to the sheer weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

His weary, dark-ringed eyes were set in a jaw that was clenched tight as if he wanted to shatter his own teeth. He hadn’t eaten. Had barely spoken. Just pacing back and forth like a caged animal , waiting for news.

I felt for him. I could not shake off the image of Kaiden lying in that chamber, dead to the world. Two days had gone by since he had been brought back from the battle, an arrow lodged in his chest, its tip coated with poison that no healer had been able to counteract.

With every passing hour, his weaker breath raised our hopes, then, hollowed them as his strength dwindled, his formerly kingly presence turning awfully small and light. Tension reigned across the halls of the palace, for everyone knew that should the Lycan King die, chaos would ensue.

He had already marked me as his mate, but never treating me as one. To him, I was nothing but a servant-girl, a thing he could use or discard at will. And yet... somehow, the thought of him dying gnawed at my insides.

The heavy wooden doors creaking open led to murmurs and whispers as heads turned, all eyes on the hooded figure emerging from somewhere. The healer's rags were tearing apart, and the strong scent of ancient herbs clung to him like skin. The elder's face held the wrinkles of experience written across it: wisdom gained through millennia.

"Tell me you have the cure," said Lyrein, standing before him; the raw edge to his voice hardly concealed the desperation beneath.

The healer sighed, and with a slow motion, he grabbed the strap of his satchel. "There is an antidote," he said, gravelly yet calm sounding.

A sigh was heard from within the hallway. Relief was visible on Lyrein's expression. But the healer was still cautious.

"What is it?" Lyrein demanded, voice tight.

"An antidote," said the healer, stroking his long beard, very gray indeed. "Very rare. A complex mixture of herbs, extracts, and enchanted minerals, each measured to perfection. Spoil a single grain, and the antidote could become a poison on its own.”

Lyrein straightened his back and spoke, "Then do it."

The healer suddenly looked grave. "I cannot do that."

The silence that ensued in the hallway became gnawing. Lyrein's face contorted in disbelief. "You mean you cannot? You are a healer, aren't you?"

The old man's sigh was heavy. "I lost my sense of smell decades ago. This potion requires not only knowledge but precision in scent and texture...

“No more than I would, of a child stumbling through the dark.”

I felt Lyrein's frustration ripple through the air like a gathering storm. He whispered to the palace healers who had gathered nearby. “Then one of you will make it.”

No one guffawed, and the room shifted again.

A couple exchanged tense glances. Others dropped their eyes to the floor, their hands clenched at the edges of their robes.

Lyrein's patience snapped. "Are you all useless?" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

One elder healer cleared his throat. "It is not that we are unwilling, my lord. But none of us would dare risk being the reason that the Lycan King dies. The potion has to be prepared just slightly wrong, and the consequences-"

Lyrein snarled. "So you'd rather let him die than take a risk?"

The mountain healer had put a steadying hand on Lyrein's shoulder. "It is not their fault, young one. Reason clouded by fear. No one would want to carry the weight of responsibility for failing their king."

Lyrein's fists clenched at his sides. His frustration was raw, bleeding into the air like an open wound.

"Then I will do it myself," he bit out.

You cannot do that, the healer said.

Lyrein's eyes blazed. "Why the hell not?"

The old man's gaze became seriously solemn. "Because the hands who are going to brew this potion must not be stained with bloodshed. Only a soul that has killed might prepare it."

A ripple ran through the audience. The murmur of realization ran through the healers and warriors who had gathered in the hall.

“You should make the potion.” A voice whispers in my head.

I didn’t know how to make this potion but I do know how to handle enchanted herbs or measure out the fine grains of minerals. But what if I messed up? What if I wasn't steady enough? What if Kaiden died because of me?

I wanted to look away, step back and pretend I wasn't here. But then I looked at Lyrein.

The exhaustion in his eyes. The helplessness. The desperate hope clinging to him like so much breath.

Then I thought of Kaiden. The man who had taken me, marked me, but never truly seen me. The man who still, despite everything, was my mate.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, squared my shoulders, and forced my trembling voice to steady.

"I will do it."

The room fell silent.

Lyrein's expression shifted from one of pure shock to something else that I could not quite put my finger on. "Akira, you don't ha—"

"I have to," I said, my voice much firmer this time. "No one else can."

The healer studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly in approval. "Then let's begin."

Lyrein reached for my hand, his grip warm and grounding. "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard.

I wasn’t sure of anything. But if I didn’t try, Kaiden would die.

So I met Lyrein’s gaze and nodded. “Yes.”