Chapter 50
“Did I just speak with the alchemist of Lythos or was my mind playing tricks on me again?” Kayla asked the strange figure that was leading her to the toilet. The figure said nothing.
“Well, whatever it is that I just witnessed, I won't let anyone take my pup!”
"Ysolde does not want to take your child from you, Kayla. She wants your pup. He is her mate. When the time comes, Ysolde will want your blessing and his father’s before grooming him. She waited more than five hundred years for Lucien,” the strange figure leading her said.
“You are just Lucien's chosen vessel.”
Kayla opened her eyes and narrowed them at the ancient man who was walking beside her.
"I’m not anyone's chosen vessel. I didn’t agree to this nonsense. And I sure as hell won’t let a five-hundred-year-old alchemist groom my unborn child to be her mate."
“I’m not grooming him,” Ysolde replied behind Kayla, and for the first time, her voice broke. Kayla halted but refused to look back.
“I’m waiting. Do you know what it means to wait for someone who may never arrive? To stand in between realms while time passes and the world forgets you? I waited. I'm glad the wait is over.”
Kayla shook her head. “The waiting is not over. Wait for another child. Mine can't be part of this useless game!”
“You can't change his destiny, Kayla.”
“I feel like I’m going to pee on this floor,” Kayla snapped, gripping the beam tighter. “You’ve stressed the life out of me.”
“Ysolde smirked and pointed at Kayla’s belly. “I didn't stress you at all. Lucien’s head just engaged. He can't wait to come out!”
Kayla groaned. “Enough with this childish nonsense! Act like an adult for once and stop speaking like a poet trapped in a coffin,” Kayla snapped.
Kayla looked at the alchemist for a long moment, her breathing ragged, her body tense. Then, she mumbled, “If I don’t get to the bathroom, I’m going to break your ancient floor!”
“Then, follow him!” the Alchemist said and pointed at the man who was waiting for her.
Kayla continued shaking her head with frustration as she followed the he-wolf down the long corridor.
Her lips moved slightly, but no sound came out this time. Her mind was restless.
She didn’t feel the urge to defecate or urinate again. What she really wanted at that moment was to go back home. She wanted to control Zayron until next month when she would give birth.
Now she knew the solution to Zayron’s problem was in the hands of her unborn pup.
She just had to figure out how the child could help his father. That was all that was on her mind.
February was already ending. Kayla couldn’t wait to deliver her pup next month. She held her stomach gently as she walked, her thoughts deep and focused.
The he-wolf leading her stopped at the end of the corridor, pointed at the toilet door, and then turned to the side and stood quietly.
He didn’t say anything, just folded his arms and looked away like he had finished his job.
Kayla walked past the toilet door and kept going. She acted like she was just checking the place, but her eyes were sharp.
Her mind was on escape. She wanted to know if there was any way out from that end of the corridor.
When she reached the very end and looked down, her heart dropped.
There was no path. No road. No stairs. No rope. Just a slope.
A scary slope going straight down the mountain. Stones scattered everywhere.
The air was thin and dry. There was nothing to hold. Nothing to step on safely.
It was not a place made for climbing down. Kayla stared at it in silence.
She had thought maybe she could run. Maybe she could escape this place and return to Zayron. But now, standing there, all she saw was danger.
The kind of danger that didn’t give second chances.
Kayla turned from the end of the corridor, not even sparing a glance at the toilet door. There was no need anymore.
She had no urge to relieve herself. All she wanted was to go back, sit down, and find a way to save Zayron.
Her legs moved slowly, her hand brushing the cold wall as she walked back through the corridor that seemed longer than before.
Her stomach felt heavier than usual, not just from her pregnancy but from everything she was carrying inside her heart.
As she stepped back into the room, she stopped. Ysolde was no longer sitting like before.
The Alchemist had cleared a part of the floor and was now drawing lines with her fingers, forming boxes and circles.
Stones were arranged into little towers.
Twigs stood like fences, and she used what looked like crushed berries to color different corners.
It looked like a child’s game, something an ordinary ten-year-old or eleven-year-old would play when they had nothing better to do.
Kayla frowned. She didn’t understand what she was looking at.
Was this magic? A ritual? Or was the Alchemist simply… odd?
Ysolde, as if feeling Kayla’s eyes on her, lifted her head. She looked directly at her and dusted her palms together, brushing off the dirt and berry stain.
Then she pointed at the same chair Kayla had sat in before.
Without saying a word, Kayla walked over and sat down again. Her eyes didn’t leave the Alchemist, still unsure of what she was trying to do.
Ysolde tilted her head and broke the silence.
“Your unborn child,” she began, her voice calm but with a knowing tone. “He...”
“No,” Kayla cut in sharply. She lifted her hand, her palm facing Ysolde in a clear gesture to stop. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw clenched.
“We are not going to talk about him. Not now. Not again.”
Ysolde blinked slowly, but she didn’t drop the subject.
“You don’t understand what he means to this world. To you. To Zayron. Even to me.”
“I don’t care,” Kayla replied firmly.
“I carried him alone. I protected him. He’s still inside me, and until I give birth, no one, not even you, has the right to talk about him like he’s already yours. I came here for Zayron. My mate. My Alpha. Not for useless talks about my child.”
Ysolde folded her small arms across her chest and stared at Kayla for a long moment.
Then she let out a quiet sigh, something between frustration and resignation.
“As you wish,” she muttered and sat back down. “Then tell me, what do you want?”
Kayla leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “I want a potion that will heal Zayron’s mind,” Kayla replied.
“He thinks I'm dead. I need something that will bring him back. Something that will save him.”
Ysolde said nothing. Her eyes shifted from Kayla to the air above her right shoulder. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable.
But Kayla caught the way her pupils widened, and her lips parted slightly. She was staring, not at Kayla, but at something else entirely.
The Alchemist’s gaze was locked on the wall, or more precisely, beyond it. As though there was something standing just outside Kayla’s field of vision.
Something invisible. Something… ancient.
The silence dragged on. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Kayla shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. Her lower back ached.
Her baby kicked. But Ysolde remained still, her lips moving occasionally as if whispering to someone only she could see.
Finally, after nearly twenty minutes, she blinked and turned to Kayla. Her voice was quiet, but her words cut straight through the air.
“There is a way,” she said. "But it comes at a great price. You must pay the price.”
Kayla’s heartbeat slowed. She remembered all the nonsense Ysolde had said earlier about her unborn child being her mate.
If the Alchemist truly believed that, then surely she wouldn’t ask for his blood. Kayla’s eyes narrowed. That left only one option.
“My blood?” she asked, trying to read the Alchemist’s expression. “Is that the price?”
Ysolde did not answer immediately.
And Kayla waited, refusing to show any fear. Her face was still. Her spine straightened.
She knew the Alchemist was watching her reactions, so she stayed calm.
“No,” Ysolde replied finally.
“You are going to give me silver hair. Silver like the moonlight. Just a lock of it is the price you must pay.”
As soon as Ysolde said that, Kayla stood up slowly. Her eyes narrowed. She had just remembered her Aunt’s vision.
"I saw a boy, unlike any other I had ever seen. His hair was silver like the moonlight, shimmering as if woven with ancient power. It was not just hair, it was a thread of fate itself, something that shouldn’t be severed.
I saw a battle, one that could break the world. A storm of blood and fire. And in the heart of it, you stood, a sword in your hand.
You severed the boy’s silver thread, and it fell, gleaming, into the hands of another. A hand that carried it through the darkness and laid it upon Alpha Zayron’s table."
Kayla also recalled that her aunt had that vision again and this time, the silver hair fell into the hands of the alchemist of Lythos.
Goosebumps filled her body and her knees suddenly became weak.
Kayla remembered the Silvershots, searching for Alpha Zayron. Kayla couldn’t say there was no battle because the battle had already begun.
Everything Seraphina had spoken of was already unfolding.
Slowly, Kayla sat back down.
“Wondering where to get the silver hair?” the Alchemist asked.
Kayla didn’t respond. Her mind was a thousand kilometers away from the hall.