Chapter 14 #2
He glanced at Nero. He'd loved two people in his life. The first one had been dead a long time. He’d be damned if he would let it happen a second time.
"Blood magic always takes more than it gives," Makim murmured, dragging Casteel out of his thoughts, his dark eyes finding his. "It's a transference from you. The price—"
"Is mine to pay," Casteel interrupted firmly. "My choice." He didn't care what it was.
Before Makim could respond, the door opened, and the innkeeper's wife returned with a figure draped in a dark woolen cloak.
The newcomer pushed back her hood to reveal an elderly woman with silver-streaked hair and eyes the color of storm clouds.
Despite her advanced age, she moved with the sure-footed grace of someone accustomed to mountain paths.
"Show me," she said without preamble, her voice carrying the authority of someone who had seen too much suffering to waste time on pleasantries.
Casteel stepped aside as the mountain healer approached the bed where Nero lay unconscious. Her weathered hands hovered over his bandaged chest, not quite touching but somehow sensing the extent of his injuries through means Casteel couldn't fathom.
"Arrow wounds, deep," she murmured, her eyes closing in concentration.
"But the life force bleeds away faster than the body can restore it.
" Her storm-gray gaze fixed on Casteel. "He has lost too much.
But you're bonded to him. I can feel the connection—strong but getting weaker as there isn't enough blood to feed all parts of him. "
"Can you help him?" Casteel asked, desperation threading his voice.
The healer studied them both with unnerving intensity. "Blood magic can mend what conventional healing cannot. But the price..." She paused, her expression growing grave. "It will not be your life that pays the cost, young wolf. It will be your wolf soul itself."
The words hit Casteel like a physical blow. "My wolf?"
"The silver wolf is the source of your power, your connection to the ancient magic that runs through this land.
" The healer's voice was gentle but implacable.
"To save him, I would need to channel that power directly into his failing body.
The magic would burn through your wolf-soul like kindling, leaving you human. "
Through their bond, Casteel felt a flicker of Nero's consciousness, his mate somehow sensing the gravity of the conversation even in his unconscious state.
"Absolutely not! The prophecy—" Eryken began.
"Would be fulfilled by the new vessel if the wolf accepts the change, or maybe not at all," the healer finished. "There are other wolves in the world, though none carry the silver mark as far as I know." Her eyes never left Casteel's face. "But there is only one bond like yours."
Casteel's hands trembled as he reached for Nero's still form. Without his wolf, he would be ordinary—no longer the prophesied savior, no longer possessing the power that made him valuable to either Doran or the rebellion. Just a stable boy who loved a dying man.
"Yes," he whispered, knowing he had no choice. There wasn't a world in which he wanted to live if Nero didn't.
"There may be other consequences," she said slowly, and Casteel dragged his gaze away from Nero.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you may no longer be life dependent on one another." She shrugged. "Some might see that a boon."
Casteel frowned. "What—"
"She means you won't get mate sickness if you are apart from each other," Eryken explained.
Makim frowned. "This is more than mate sickness, Eryken.
If Nero dies you lose Casteel as well." Eryken's lips parted in astonishment, but Casteel took no notice.
It wasn't a question really. He didn't care for his own life when held against Nero's.
His only sadness was that Nero wouldn't need him any longer.
“Can we delay?" Eryken asked. “Give him time?” But Casteel was beyond hearing him.
The healer checked Nero's pulse with clinical efficiency, then met Casteel’s gaze. "His body fights, but weakly. Perhaps a bell before the choice is made for you."
“I have made my choice,” Casteel said. He had. Even if…even if Nero didn't need him anymore.
The healer nodded solemnly, then began removing items from a leather satchel Casteel hadn't noticed her carrying. A curved silver blade, no longer than his palm. Vials of dark liquid that seemed to absorb the lamplight. Bundles of dried herbs that filled the room with an ancient, earthy scent.
"The ritual must be performed completely," she instructed, her weathered hands arranging the items with practiced precision.
"Any interruption could prove fatal to both of you.
" Her storm-gray eyes found Eryken's. "Your men will need to stand guard.
What we do here tonight cannot be witnessed by those who would use such knowledge against us. "
Eryken hesitated, his mind clearly warring with concern for his former lieutenant. "How long will it take?"
"Until dawn, perhaps longer." The healer was already mixing herbs in a small bronze bowl, her movements precise despite the urgency. "The wolf-soul does not surrender easily, even when willingly given."
"We don't have until dawn," Lucan protested from his position by the window. "The patrols—"
"Will have to be dealt with if they come," Eryken said firmly, his decision made. "Makim, you'll assist the healer. Lucan, establish a perimeter. We'll have to handle any Silver Guard that venture too close."
As the others moved to their positions, Casteel knelt beside the bed, his hand finding Nero's. Through their bond, he felt his mate's life force flickering, growing weaker with each passing moment.
The healer lit a small brazier, filling the room with smoke that made Casteel's eyes water. "The old magic requires old words, and ultimate prices, willingly paid," she murmured, beginning to chant in a language he didn't recognize.
She took the silver blade in one hand, gesturing for Casteel to extend his arm. "Your blood first, to call the wolf-soul to the surface. Then his, to create the bridge between your life forces."
Casteel rolled up his sleeve without hesitation, offering his forearm to the healer's blade. The cut was shallow but precise, blood welling immediately to run down his skin into the bronze bowl below.
The moment his blood touched the herbs, something shifted in the room's atmosphere. The air grew thick, electric with power that made his skin crawl. Through their bond, he felt Nero stir, consciousness flickering as the ancient magic began to work.
The healer made a second cut on Nero's unresponsive arm, letting his blood mingle with Casteel's in the bronze bowl. The mixture began to glow with an eerie silver light that pulsed in rhythm with their shared heartbeat.
"Now the true work begins," the healer whispered, her hands moving in complex patterns above the bowl. "The wolf must be drawn forth willingly, completely. Hold nothing back, or both of you will be lost."
Casteel felt the silver wolf stir within him, responding to the ancient call. But as it rose toward the surface, agony unlike anything he'd ever experienced tore through his body. It felt as though his very soul was being flayed, each strand of wolf-magic ripped away with deliberate precision.
He bit back a scream, his body convulsing as the healer's chanting grew more intense. Through their bond, he felt Nero's consciousness sharpen, his mate somehow sensing what was happening despite his unresponsive state.
The pain intensified, white-hot fire racing through his veins as the wolf-soul fought against its own sacrifice. Casteel's vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges as his body struggled to contain the magical trauma.
"Let it go," the healer commanded, her voice seeming to come from very far away. "Release your hold or lose him forever."
With a final, agonized cry that he couldn't suppress, Casteel felt the silver wolf tear free from his essence.
The last thing he saw before unconsciousness claimed him was a brilliant flash of silver light flowing from his body into Nero's still form, carrying with it everything that had made him special, everything that had made him more than human.
Everything that had made him hope that Nero would love him.