The grand healing chamber of the Supreme Tower was steeped in silence.
Moonlight poured through the arched glass ceiling, silver and cold, falling across the ornate marble floor. The scent of old blood and burnt iron lingered faintly in the air — remnants of the antidote Felix had administered to keep the venom from spreading.
Magnus sat on the edge of his recovery chair, bandages wrapped across his side, his expression grim. Across from him, Alexander leaned against a carved pillar, his usually easy smirk nowhere to be seen.
"You can stop pacing," Magnus said quietly, his deep voice roughened by pain. "It won't change the fact that we saw it."
Alexander's gaze flicked toward the tall doors ahead. "You think he'll deny it?"
Magnus snorted. "He doesn't deny. He decides."
Before Alexander could answer, the doors opened — and the air changed.
A low hum, ancient and commanding, seemed to pulse through the room as Nani entered, his footsteps soft yet echoing like thunder. He wore black — not the ceremonial kind, but the simple kind that spoke of power restrained. His presence dimmed the light itself, his aura rippling through the air like something half divine, half deadly.
William followed a few steps behind, face impassive, hands clasped behind his back.
"Supreme," Magnus greeted, bowing slightly — out of respect, not subservience.
"Prince," Alexander murmured with a faint smirk, though his tone lacked the usual jest. "You do have a way of making an entrance."
Nani's golden eyes shifted toward him, calm and unreadable.
"Perhaps," he said softly. "But only when I must."
He moved to the center of the chamber, the faint glow of his sigil visible through the open collar of his shirt. Even injured, even tired, he looked untouchable — the living reminder of what immortality could become when it stopped pretending to be human.
Alexander broke the silence first. "We owe you our lives," he said. "You and your... guard."
Nani's eyes narrowed slightly. "You mean my Guardian."
That word hung between them like a blade.
Magnus exhaled slowly. "So it's true."
Nani didn't reply. He didn't need to. The weight of his silence was an answer of its own.
Magnus leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "We've heard the tales — that the Guardian of the Moon was destroyed with the Mara, that her line vanished centuries ago. But we saw him, Nani. That light. That fire. Only one bloodline in all creation can burn like that."
Alexander's smirk returned faintly, though it was laced with unease. "And you put your mark on him. The council will go feral when they find out."
William's jaw tensed, but Nani raised a hand, quieting him. His gaze remained on Magnus and Alex — unwavering, heavy.
"They won't find out," Nani said at last. His tone was calm, but his voice carried a quiet, terrifying authority that made the chandeliers hum. "And if they do... they will learn why silence is mercy."
Magnus met his gaze, old enough not to flinch but wise enough to respect the warning.
"You can't protect him forever," he said softly. "You know what happens when the Guardian returns."
Something flickered behind Nani's calm — a flash of grief, buried deep beneath centuries of control. He turned slightly toward the window, where the moonlight stretched across the floor.
"I am well aware," he murmured.
Alexander folded his arms. "Then tell us, Prince — what's your plan? Because if the Mara stirs again, we're all standing on the edge of extinction."
Nani's lips curved into something faint — not a smile, not quite a threat. "If the Mara awakens, it won't be extinction that comes first. It will be reckoning."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Finally, Magnus nodded, slow and deliberate. "Then we'll prepare our territories. I'll have my council reinforce the borders."
Alexander sighed. "And I'll make sure the northern covens don't start panicking over rumors."
Nani's eyes returned to them — soft, but absolute. "Do that. And remember, whatever you saw... remains here."
Both leaders inclined their heads.
As they left the chamber, Alexander glanced back once. "You know," he said lightly, "for someone cursed to love a Guardian, you've managed to make the whole underworld tremble for him."
Nani didn't answer. He just turned his gaze toward the window, where faint traces of moonlight reflected against the glass — silver and gold intertwined, like fire and sorrow.
William approached quietly. "They'll keep their word," he said.
"I know." Nani's voice was low, distant. "But words won't stop what's coming."
He glanced toward the upper floors — where he could still sense Sky's heartbeat through the wards, faint and stubborn.
Then, almost to himself, he whispered,
"Nothing ever does."
---
The lounge was quiet, bathed in half-light.
Only the soft ticking of the antique clock filled the room — steady, merciless.
Sky stood by the tall window, one hand pressed against the glass, staring at the moon that hung pale and distant above the city. Its light poured over him, making the faint shimmer of his guardian mark glow beneath the fabric of his shirt — proof, a curse, and a promise all at once.
His reflection in the glass looked almost foreign — too hollow, too tired.
His chest still burned faintly where the venom had touched his blood, but it wasn't the wound that hurt. It was the weight of what he saw in Nani's eyes earlier — fear. Not fear for himself, but for Sky.
He exhaled slowly, fogging the glass.
"...I ruined everything again," he whispered, voice barely a thread.
Behind him, the soft clink of a glass echoed.
Billkin sat at the bar, elbows resting on the counter, nursing a half-filled tumbler. His wolf aura pulsed faintly — contained, disciplined, but restless. He didn't speak, but Sky could feel his gaze, sharp and assessing.
"You can just say it," Sky murmured without turning. "That I'm an idiot."
Billkin huffed a dry laugh. "I wasn't going to. But since you opened the door—"
He leaned back on the stool. "You are. For a smart one, you're incredibly bad at self-preservation."
Sky didn't respond. The silence stretched again, heavy but not hostile. Billkin had been ordered to stay near him, yet Sky could tell — it wasn't just an order. Billkin worried. The way wolves worried for each other, silent and sincere.
Finally, Sky spoke again, voice soft.
"He doubled the wards."
Billkin's ears twitched faintly. "He's the Supreme. It's his job."
Sky shook his head, the faintest smile ghosting his lips, bitter and fond.
"No... he's not doing it as the Supreme."
He turned then, finally facing Billkin. "He's doing it because of me."
For a moment, neither spoke.
The air felt tight — filled with everything unspoken between two beings who understood what it meant to love someone you could never fully touch.
Billkin set his glass down gently. "You're in pain."
Sky's throat worked, but he didn't deny it.
"I can handle pain," he said. "What I can't handle... is knowing I'm the reason he suffers."
The words trembled out before he could stop them. He closed his eyes, jaw tight, trying to steady the storm inside him — that unbearable mix of devotion, guilt, and longing.
Outside, the moonlight wavered against the glass. The city lights below flickered — just slightly.
Then Sky froze.
A sound. Distant. Wrong.
A pulse of energy brushed his senses — thick, dark, heavy with venom.
And under it, faint but sharp — Felix's aura. Trembling. Distressed.
"Felix..." Sky whispered, eyes widening.
Billkin stood up immediately, his instincts flaring. "You feel it too?"
Sky's heartbeat quickened.
"Yes. And wolves — several of them. They're surrounded."
His eyes glowed faint silver, his mark responding to the call. The air around him shimmered with restrained power.
Billkin stepped closer. "We should call William—"
"No time."
Sky was already moving — fast, decisive. The wards sparked against him as he crossed the threshold, reacting to his defiance. But he pushed through, his guardian mark blazing for a moment, shattering the invisible barrier with a soft, silver hum.
Billkin cursed under his breath but followed without hesitation. "You're insane, Sky!"
"Maybe," Sky said, already leaping down the staircase, his voice fierce, breaking through the heavy silence.
"But Felix my bestfriend. I'm not letting him die out there."
The last thing left in the lounge was the faint shimmer of moonlight and the smell of burnt air where the wards had cracked — a silent sign that the Guardian had defied fate once again.
----
The night had teeth.
The forest trembled under the sound of howls — sharp, wounded, desperate.
The scent of blood and venom hung heavy in the air, thick enough to burn the throat. Shadows darted between the trees, moving too fast, too many.
Joss's blade flashed — silver streaks carving through darkness. One creature fell, screaming, its body turning into ash that hissed against the dirt. But two more came from behind.
"Gawin!" he barked, spinning around, catching claws with his forearm. His skin tore — smoke rising from the wound.
"I see them!" Gawin's voice cut through the chaos, strained but fierce. He moved like a blur, fangs bared, landing a kick that sent one creature crashing against the rocks. Its shriek split the night.
But it wasn't enough. There were too many.
Every time one fell, three more appeared from the shadows, crawling, screeching — unnatural, summoned things with hollow eyes and mouths dripping black venom.
Further back, Felix's circle pulsed dimly — the runes flickering, struggling to hold the ward.
"PP!" he yelled, hands already stained with blood from a protective sigil. "Your barrier's breaking!"
"I know!" PP snapped, voice trembling but full of grit. The eccentric old witch's eyes glowed faint violet, hair floating with static power. "You think I don't feel the damn thing eating through my runes?!"
A surge of black mist cracked through the ward, shattering half the protection line.
Est stumbled backward, coughing from the venom in the air. "Felix!" he shouted, trying to pull one of the broken runestones upright again. "They're getting in!"
Felix gritted his teeth. "Stay behind me!"
He drew another symbol in the air, glowing emerald, then slammed his palm to the ground. "Lux Obsidian!"
The earth pulsed — a shockwave bursting outward, sending a few creatures sprawling. But the spell cracked halfway, fragments of light scattering uselessly.
Felix fell to one knee, gasping. "Damn it... my energy's draining too fast—"
Then a roar.
Not human. Not creature. Wolf.
They turned — the sound split the night open like thunder.
A silver blur tore through the treeline, air igniting with raw power. The ground shuddered with each step as Sky emerged — half-shifted, his eyes burning molten gold, his aura flaring like a storm. His claws glinted under the moonlight, teeth bared in fury.
Billkin was right behind him, already in full wolf form, his dark fur streaked with moonlight, growling low — ready to kill.
The creatures hesitated, a ripple of instinctive fear running through them. Even corrupted things knew the call of an Alpha.
Sky stepped forward, the wind bending around him, his presence commanding.
He growled — low, deep, and filled with authority. The sound wasn't just noise. It was command.
"Back. Off."
For a heartbeat, the creatures faltered. The wounded wolves behind the ward — what remained of Alpha Juno's pack — lifted their heads weakly, sensing the power. Their dying howls answered Sky's call, the old bond of blood and moon rekindled for one last fight.
Joss wiped the blood from his cheek, eyes wide. "About damn time," he muttered.
Gawin's grin was wild, fangs flashing. "Told you he'd come."
Sky didn't speak. His focus locked on the largest creature — veins black as tar, fangs gleaming wet. It lunged, but Sky met it mid-air, their bodies colliding in a blur of light and darkness.
Claws tore through flesh. Smoke and fire erupted where his touch met the venom.
Billkin leapt beside him, snapping another creature's neck with brutal precision.
Felix yelled something — a warning, a spell — but Sky barely heard it. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, the pull of the Guardian burning under his skin. He could feel it wanting to rise, to unleash.
Not yet. He couldn't risk it — not again. Not without control.
So he fought with the power of his body and blood alone, his aura surging like waves of silver wind, strengthening the surviving wolves. They rose again, growling, fighting beside him.
PP staggered, clutching his staff. "Oh, stars above..."
He stared at Sky, eyes wide in awe. "He's not just wolf—he's the moonfire reborn."
Felix's voice was raw. "Then let's make sure he doesn't burn himself alive."
The battle raged — claws, spells, blood, and smoke — until at last, the final creature screamed, imploding into ash that scattered with the night breeze.
Silence followed.
Only panting breaths. The smell of death and ozone.
Sky stood at the center, half-shifted, chest heaving. His eyes still glowed faintly — dangerous, divine.
Billkin limped to his side, blood on his fur but head high.
Joss and Gawin approached slowly, wounded but alive.
Felix crouched near PP, both shaking from exhaustion. Est rushed to them, voice breaking with relief. "You're okay... you're all okay—"
Sky didn't answer. His gaze drifted to the fallen wolves.
Alpha Juno lay still, eyes open to the moonlight, his chest unmoving. Around him, the surviving betas knelt, heads lowered.
The forest was silent except for the whisper of wind.
And in that silence — a ripple of darkness, faint but unmistakable — passed through the trees, like someone watching.
Sky's head snapped up.
Felix froze, sensing it too.
"Something's wrong," Sky murmured.
PP's voice was faint. "The summoner... he's close."