Chapter 60 #2
“We can reach the summit,” I said, already starting up the now-fixed incline. “And when we do—”
“We find a way back to her,” Bastien finished, his earlier anger replaced by fierce purpose. We just ignored us touching ourselves together, but my mind liked the idea of doing it to her in person.
We climbed with renewed vigor, the obsidian no longer cutting into our pads, the air no longer burning our lungs.
Something fundamental had shifted in the curse’s structure.
Not broken entirely, but weakened. Compromised by Isabeau’s growing power and her act of claiming the fourth mate the curse had never anticipated.
When we reached the summit, I expected more trials.
More suffering. What I didn’t expect was to find a vast plateau stretching before us, filled with translucent prison cells that glowed with an eerie light.
Inside each cell, spectral figures huddled.
Souls trapped between worlds, neither fully dead nor truly alive.
“What on earth?” Marcel breathed, approaching the nearest cell. “These are our people. The inhabitants of the Enchanted Realm.”
I moved to another cell, peering inside. Two figures sat huddled together, their forms more substantial than the others. A man and a woman, both wearing crowns that had lost their luster but still marked them as royalty.
“Mother,” Bastien whispered, pressing his paw against the barrier. “Father.”
Our parents—the King and Queen of the Enchanted Realm—looked up at the sound, their faces transforming from despair to disbelief. Fear gripped them from my form, so I looked down, with a whimper.
It was my mother who picked up on it first. “Laurent?”
“Yes,” I whined. They couldn’t speak, their voices apparently trapped as surely as their bodies, but their eyes said everything. Recognition. Hope. Love.
“My son,” she cried. My father took longer to comprehend, but his emotions rose in a full wave.
“We have to free them,” I said, searching for any mechanism that might release the cells. “All of them.”
Marcel moved to the center of the plateau, where a massive crystal pulsed with dark energy. “This is the source,” he said, circling it warily. “The anchor point of the curse.”
“Then we destroy it,” Bastien snarled, already moving toward the crystal.
I joined him, flanking the object from the other side. Marcel completed our circle, the three of us surrounding the crystalline prison heart. Without words, we knew what to do. As one, we pressed our paws against the smooth surface, channeling the new energy that flowed through our claiming marks.
The crystal resisted at first, its darkness pushing back against our light.
But then I felt something else join us. Isabeau’s magic, flowing through the claiming bond.
And with it, surprisingly, came the prince’s essence as well.
Royal blood of Durand meeting royal blood of the Enchanted Realm, united through our shared mate.
The crystal cracked. A thin line at first, then spreading, fracturing across its surface like lightning strikes. Dark energy leaked from the fissures, hissing and spitting as it dissipated into the air. The prison cells around us began to shimmer, their barriers thinning.
“Keep pushing,” Marcel urged, his massive paws pressing harder against the crystal. “We’re breaking through.”
I focused all my will, all my strength, all my love for Isabeau and what she represented. Hope in a hopeless place, light in endless darkness, into the crystal. Beside me, my brothers did the same, our combined power flowing through our paws and into the curse’s heart.
With a sound like shattering galaxies, the crystal exploded.
Shards flew in all directions, dissolving into mist before they could strike us.
The prison cells vanished, releasing their captives in a rush of blinding light.
Spectral forms surged upward, souls freed from their torment after decades, celebrating their slight freedom.
Our parents remained, their forms solidifying as the curse’s hold on them weakened. They approached us cautiously, eyes wide with a mixture of joy and sorrow as they took in our bestial forms.
“My sons,” our mother said, her voice thin but audible now. “What has she done to you?”
Marcel nuzzled her gently. “Enid. The Dark Lord’s witch, the forest witch. She cursed us again when we found our mate.”
Our father’s face hardened with anger. “She imprisoned us here, forced to watch as our kingdom fell to darkness.”
“The kingdom will rise again,” I promised, feeling Isabeau’s determination flow through our bond. “Our mate is hunting the witch as we speak. With the prince at her side.”
“Prince?” our mother questioned.
“It’s a long story,” Bastien said, his usual aggression tempered by the joy of reunion. He’d always been our mother’s little boy. “But the short version is that we now have a chance. A real chance to break the curse completely.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on the claiming mark and the warmth it radiated. Through it, I could feel Isabeau moving through the forest, drawing ever closer to the witch’s lair. The prince was with her, his presence in our bond now undeniable, his strength adding to our own.
“We need to find a way back,” I said, opening my eyes with new resolve. “She’s going to need us when she confronts Enid.”
Marcel nodded, already scanning the plateau for any sign of passage. “The curse is weakened but not broken. There must be a way through now, a path between dimensions.”
“There,” our father said, pointing to where the crystal had stood. In its place was a swirling vortex of energy, pulsing with the same amber light as Isabeau’s magic. “The way home, but it won’t work from this side. Someone has to open it from the other.”
“Isabeau will,” I assured them.
Home. The word sent a pang through my chest. Not the castle we’d once ruled, but wherever Isabeau was. She was our home now. She and, reluctantly, the prince she’d claimed as her fourth.