Isla knelt beside Eryon, her hands trembling as she pressed them against his chest. A faint golden glow emanated from her palms, her healing magic seeping into his battered body. Sweat dripped down her face, and her breathing grew labored, but she didn’t falter. “You’re my son,” she whispered. “I will not lose you.”
Draven hovered close, his rugged features etched with worry. His hand rested on Isla’s shoulder, steadying her as much as himself. “You need to rest,” he murmured, his deep voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’ll burn yourself out.”
“I don’t care,” Isla snapped, her voice cracking with emotion. “He’s my son, Draven. If there’s even a chance I can save him…”
Draven’s jaw tightened, and he nodded, his own resolve firming. He dropped to one knee, taking one of Eryon’s limp hands in his. “Eryon,” he said, his voice low. “You’ve got to fight. You hear me? Your mother’s not giving up, so neither are you.”
From the corner of the room, Misery watched the scene unfold, her heart twisting. She’d always admired Isla’s strength, but this raw display of love and determination left her speechless. Misery clenched her fists, glancing at Eryon’s pale face. “He doesn’t have much time,” she muttered under her breath.
Seraphine, ever the cold pragmatist, approached her with a calculated look. “You know what you have to do,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “Every second you hesitate brings him closer to death.”
Misery turned to her, her crimson eyes narrowing. “And what if it doesn’t work? What if I lose him forever?”
Seraphine shrugged, her silver eyes gleaming. “Then he dies anyway. The choice is yours, Misery. Do nothing and watch him slip away, or act and risk saving him.”
Misery’s chest tightened as she looked back at Eryon, his shallow breaths barely audible. Isla’s magic flickered, the golden glow dimming as her strength waned. Misery knew they were running out of time.
Draven caught her eye, his gaze sharp and warning. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
Misery squared her shoulders, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save him.”
***
The Vampire King stood in his grand chamber, the dim light of torches casting long, ominous shadows across the room. He leaned against his obsidian throne, his crimson eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. Before him, his most trusted generals stood in a semi-circle, their expressions ranging from bloodthirsty to contemplative.
Velena, the shadow sorceress, bowed deeply, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You summoned me, my King?”
The Vampire King gestured lazily, his movements as smooth and controlled as a predator’s. “Cassian’s pack is fracturing,” he said, his voice a velvety purr. “I want you to push them further. Sow doubt. Twist their loyalties.”
Velena’s silver hair shimmered as she straightened, her sharp eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Consider it done. I’ll make them question everything—especially their precious Luna.”
General Cael, ever impatient, stepped forward, his obsidian blades clinking softly against his armor. “Why waste time with subterfuge?” he growled, his voice rough with irritation. “Let me lead an attack. We can crush them now while they’re vulnerable.”
The King’s gaze snapped to him, and the room fell deathly silent. “Patience, Cael,” he said, his tone chilling. “A cornered wolf fights hardest. Let them unravel themselves first.”
Cael’s jaw tightened, but he inclined his head, muttering, “As you wish.”
Thalric, the Blood Alchemist, chuckled softly, his fingers brushing the vials on his belt. “Chaos is a beautiful thing. Velena’s magic will do more damage than an army if used correctly.”
The King’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “Exactly. Let them destroy themselves. We’ll step in when the time is right—and when they’re too broken to resist.”
Velena smirked, her confidence palpable as she turned to leave. “Consider it done, my King. By the time I’m finished, there won’t be a pack left to fight for.”
As the sorceress disappeared into the shadows, the King leaned back in his throne, his expression unreadable. “The twins are the key,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Once I have them, nothing will stand in my way.”