The air around them was thick with tension as Eryon stood before Alpha Adam, waiting for a response. The journey had been long, and the stakes higher than ever. Rosalie’s life was slipping away with each passing moment, and every second spent in uncertainty was a second too long.
Adam studied Eryon intently, his silver-gray eyes sharp, unwavering. His aura was one of quiet authority, the kind that only an Alpha could possess. There was no warmth in his gaze, only calculation and the weight of centuries of leadership. It was clear that Adam did not make decisions lightly. The notion that he would aid a stranger from another pack without some sort of tangible benefit was, at best, a hard sell.
Eryon could feel the skepticism radiating off of him, but he had no choice but to press on. “Please, Adam,” Eryon said, his voice firm but respectful. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about a child—an innocent one who is dying from a curse placed upon her by a powerful sorceress. We have to stop it before it’s too late.”
Adam’s gaze flickered, but he remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. The seconds stretched out, each one feeling like an eternity as Eryon fought to keep his composure.
“You’re asking me to risk my pack, my people, for someone I don’t even know,” Adam finally said, his voice low and steady. “You’ve given me no reason to help you. And what’s more, you’ve yet to explain why you think I should involve myself in this situation.”
Eryon’s heart skipped a beat. He had expected resistance, but Adam’s words stung nonetheless. The Alpha had a point—there was no clear incentive for him to risk everything for someone outside his pack. He could walk away now, return to his pack, and leave Eryon and Rosalie to their fate. But that wasn’t an option. Not when the baby’s life was on the line.
“Because you’re the only one who can,” Eryon repeated, his tone more urgent now. “You’ve studied ancient magic, hybrid spells—your knowledge is unparalleled. I’ve seen it. You’re the only one who can reverse this curse.”
Adam considered his words carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed the offer. “And what do I get in return?” he asked, his voice cold and calculating. “What’s in this for me? You don’t expect me to just help out of the goodness of my heart, do you?”
Eryon’s mind raced, thinking quickly. He couldn’t afford to back down now. “I offer you a favor,” he said, each word carefully chosen. “I will owe you a favor, whatever it is, whenever you choose to call it in.”
Adam’s eyes glinted at the mention of a favor, but his expression remained guarded. He took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded Eryon with a mix of interest and suspicion.
“A favor,” Adam echoed, his voice laced with both amusement and doubt. “You think I’ll risk my entire pack’s safety for a favor? For a debt that might not even be worth anything?”
Eryon nodded, unwavering. “I know how much a favor can mean to someone like you. And I know that when you need it, it will be more than enough to make up for the risk.”
Adam stared at Eryon for a long moment, his expression unreadable. There was a silence between them, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Finally, Adam spoke again, his voice calm but firm.
“If I do this, you’ll owe me more than you realize,” he said, the threat implicit in his words.
Eryon swallowed hard, but he didn’t hesitate. “I understand,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension building within him. “Whatever you ask, whenever you ask it.”
Adam’s lips curled slightly, a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth. It was a smile that held no warmth, only a quiet calculation.
“Good,” Adam said, his voice like ice. “Then let’s get to work.”
He turned on his heel, his movements precise and purposeful, as he led Eryon toward the Lunar Ash Packhouse. Eryon followed, his mind racing. He had made a dangerous promise, one that could come back to haunt him. But it was a risk he had to take. Rosalie’s life depended on it.
As they entered the packhouse, the interior was much more modest than Eryon had expected, though still sturdy and well-kept. The walls were adorned with symbols of strength, power, and history—a reflection of the pack’s long lineage. The pack itself was large, and he could feel the eyes of the wolves on him as he passed. There was no warmth here, no open arms. He was an outsider, and he had to prove his worth.
Adam led Eryon to a small room near the back of the house, where an altar-like table was set up. Several books on ancient magic and healing were stacked neatly on the surface. Eryon could sense the heavy presence of power in the room—Adam’s own magic, no doubt, combined with that of those who had come before him. This was the place where the Alpha worked his rituals, and Eryon had no doubt that it was here, in this very room, that Adam’s knowledge of hybrid magic had been passed down through generations.
“Tell me everything,” Adam said, his voice low and commanding as he gestured for Eryon to explain. “Everything about this curse, about the magic that is killing the child.”
Eryon wasted no time, quickly recounting the details of Rosalie’s condition, Esmera’s dark magic, and the severity of the situation. He explained the hybrid bond between Bella and Rosalie, how it was slowly being severed, and how the magic continued to drain the baby’s life force.
As he spoke, Adam listened intently, his eyes focused and unblinking. There was no doubt in Eryon’s mind that Adam was absorbing every detail, weighing every word carefully. The Alpha’s expertise in magic was undeniable, but so too was his sense of caution.
Finally, when Eryon had finished, Adam stood in silence for a long moment, his silver-gray eyes narrowed in thought.
“We’ll need to act fast,” Adam said finally. “The longer this goes on, the harder it will be to undo the damage. But before we proceed, understand this—I’m doing this because I believe it can be done. Not because I owe you any kindness, but because you’ve given me something in return.”
Eryon nodded, his throat tight with relief. “Thank you,” he whispered. “We won’t forget this.”