"When you are needed to do your duty...when it is ti, I will co for you."
"What duty is that?" Isolde dared to ask.
Luna turned around slowly, her hair catching the light, her eyes narrowing into slits that could slice through iron. The silence that followed was thunderous.
There was no answer from Luna. But her blistering gaze said it all: You know what the duty is. Don’t make say it out loud.
Isolde instinctively bowed her head, eyes squeezing shut as if that alone could erase the mont. She wanted to vanish, sink into the floor, evaporate into sha.
Luna asked herself what she was supposed to say in response to the question. Your duty is to let my husband mark you so he can survive. My duty is to accept you—another woman—as his bonded mate.
Luna strode out. The air she left behind was cold enough to frost bone.
Out in the living room, Talon watched her with quiet eyes.
"Did you emphasise to Lady Sharona to get out of the city?" Luna asked.
"Yes," Talon said simply.
Luna was halfway through the room when she turned around to face Talon, her mask slipping just enough to let a sliver of truth out.
"I’m glad you stayed for , Talon."
"Anything for you, Princess." He used her werewolf title deliberately, reminding her who she was to them—and to him.
The mont lingered before Luna walked out.
*****
Damien’s car a quiet halt in front of Morvakar’s ancient, moss-covered castle.
He leaned back in the driver’s seat for a mont, fingers tracing the cool tal of the necklace he’d taken from Isolde.
He shoved it into his coat pocket and stepped out of the car.
The gravel crunched underfoot as he walked past cracked windows. He didn’t knock. He pushed open the heavy doors and let the scent of damp stone welco him.
The corridor was dim, the torches flickering.
He moved straight to the usual room. The place where Morvakar always was, waiting.
As Damien entered, he raised his eyes.
"Morvakar?" Damien called.
"Shhh..." Morvakar said without looking up. His gaunt figure was hunched over a large draft spread across the long table, his hair strands falling into his eyes as he worked feverishly.
Damien took slow steps toward him, drawn to the frantic markings Morvakar had made.
"What are you working on?" he asked, eyes scanning the chaotic mix of formulas, diagrams, and gene-mapping sequences.
Morvakar sighed, exasperated, and finally glanced up. The circles under his eyes were darker than ever. "Trying to create sothing harmless that can counteract the poison... using the opposite of the process I used to create Luna."
Damien blinked. "You’re trying to reverse Luna’s genes?"
"No," Morvakar clarified, "not reverse. That would destroy her. I’m attempting to build a neutralizer, an antidote that can negate the effects of the original synthesis. If I can create sothing with enough resonance to what’s inside her—sothing not harmful—it might be possible to shield you long-term."
"That’s... brilliant," Damien said after a pause, sincerely impressed.
Morvakar scoffed. "It’s useless."
Damien placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Don’t give up. I know you can fix this."
"I’m not so sure anymore...Even if I can, there isn’t enough ti. The only reason you’re still on your feet is because I enchanted Luna’s mark."
Damien’s brow furrowed. "You enchanted her mark?"
Morvakar nodded. "As long as you are close to her, physically, the mark buffers the poison. You don’t suffer."
Damien gave a dry chuckle. "No wonder my blinding headaches stopped. So, what—you’re saying I should be bedridden or wheeled around by now?"
"More or less," Morvakar muttered. "Her energy is the only thing keeping your system from failing completely."
"So," Morvakar said dryly, not looking up, "what brings you to my lair today, oh dying king?"
Damien retrieved the necklace from the inside pocket of his coat, the cool tal brushing his palm. It was delicate, deceptively simple. He held it out to the sorcerer, arm steady despite the storm brewing inside him. "Tell about this," he said quietly, though his tone held a steel thread of urgency.
Morvakar looked up from his scattered drafts, raising a curious brow. He reached out with careful fingers. He retrieved a pair of circular glasses from his robe, slipping them on. He tilted the necklace under the light, fingers dancing over it in patterns.
"Where did you get this?" he asked finally, eyes never leaving the pendant.
"From my true fated mate..." Damien said.
Morvakar’s head snapped up, and he audibly gasped. His pupils dilated behind the glasses. "You found her."
"Soone made sure I did," Damien continued, nodding toward the necklace. "That pulled in her direction."
"Indeed," Morvakar murmured, now speaking more to himself than Damien as he turned the piece over again. "That’s what the necklace is supposed to do. It feeds on a sacrifice to pull two bonded mates together. A homing tether. It was quite popular among sorcerers. Before it was banned..."
Damien stiffened. "Banned? Why?"
"Because it needed a blood sacrifice," Morvakar said grimly.
A beat of silence passed. Damien’s eyes narrowed as he asked, "If it was banned, who made this?"
Morvakar’s lips parted, but for a long second, no sound ca. Then he cleared his throat, uncomfortably. "Well... that’s the confusing part."
He removed the glasses slowly and looked Damien straight in the eye. "It looks like I did."
Damien’s body tensed. "Excuse ?" he snapped, betrayal already licking at the edges of his words.
Morvakar raised his hands quickly in a calming gesture. "Wait. Let explain."
"Explain how you forged sothing illegal that led to the one person who can ruin my life with Luna?"
"Every sorcerer has a signature," Morvakar said gently, almost apologetically. "We don’t an to—it’s like a fingerprint of energy. It’s involuntary. But it’s unmistakable. According to the signature of this enchanted necklace, it is mine."
"Are you saying soone is copying your signature?"
"That is impossible. Only soone who has learned from personally, only my apprentices can have similar signatures but this, this is exactly ." Morvakar explained.
(Who truly needs a hug in this Chapter? Luna, Isolde or Damien?)
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