The sickness deepened with every passing hour. Isabella's veins had begun to darken beneath her skin, the faint glow of the Blood Plague pulsing like molten fire through her body. Even in sleep, she trembled, her breaths shallow and uneven.
The healers whispered among themselves, their faces pale, until one of them dared to approach the High Council.
By morning, the Elders of Lycanthra gathered in the grand hall — ancient wolves draped in black and silver, their eyes sharp as blades. The eldest, Elder Maeron, laid an open book upon the stone table, its pages yellowed with time and inked in symbols older than any language still spoken.
"This," he said solemnly, "was found in the restricted archives — The Codex of Blood and Fang. It speaks of the same plague that once cursed Theralis."
He turned a page slowly, the candlelight flickering over the words.
"When the Blood Plague rises in the veins of the cursed, no herb, no spell, no flame shall cleanse it. Only the blood of her bound — the Alpha King of the Moon's line — may break the sickness born of betrayal."
The room fell silent.
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"
Elder Maeron met his gaze evenly. "We are saying, my King, that your blood is the cure."
Ryan's jaw clenched. "That's impossible."
"It is written," the elder said simply. "Her bond to you is what sustains her life — and it is that same bond that can heal her. The Blood Plague feeds on royal blood. Only royal blood bound by the Moon can burn it out."
Ryan turned away, muscles tensing. "No. I will not bleed for her."
The Refusal
The Elders exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared challenge him. Ryan's voice was low and cold as winter.
"She is not my responsibility. She brought this curse from her own kingdom."
"Yet it festers in your house," Maeron replied. "If she dies, the bond between your bloodlines may die with her. The Pact will be broken."
Ryan's claws scraped faintly against the table. "Let it break."
A faint growl stirred in his mind. His wolf — silent until now — finally broke through."You'd let her die? You'd let your mate burn alive while you hide behind pride?"
Ryan gritted his teeth. "She is nothing to me."
The wolf laughed darkly. "If she were nothing, you wouldn't feel the fever clawing your chest every time she screams."
He pressed a hand against his sternum. The pain there pulsed again — faint but relentless, echoing through the bond. He could feel her weakening, the connection flickering like a dying flame.
"She's just… a symbol," he muttered. "A pawn."
The wolf growled. "Then why do you bleed every time she breaks?"
Ryan turned sharply toward the window, his golden eyes glowing faintly. "Enough."
But the silence that followed was worse. Because deep inside, he knew the truth: he could feel her dying — and it was killing him too.
The Fever's Hold
In her chamber, Isabella lay pale as moonlight. The healers whispered prayers in Old Tongue, their hands shaking as they tried another round of wolfsbane compresses. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and ash.
Her body convulsed once, then went still.
"She's fading," one healer cried.
Another reached for her wrist — the pulse was shallow, almost gone. "If the King does not come soon, we'll lose her."
But Isabella stirred weakly, her voice a faint whisper. "Don't… call him. He won't come."
Her eyes opened, glassy but calm. "He made it clear what I am to him."
The healers exchanged glances, pity in their eyes. They had all seen the bond between mates before — the unspoken tether that connected souls. Never had they seen one fray so violently.
The Reluctant Choice
Ryan stood alone in the corridor, his mind a storm of rage and denial. He could still feel the pull — her pain twisting through his chest, her heartbeat weakening like a fading echo.
His wolf's voice rose again, sharp and relentless."Go to her, Alpha. Or we both die with her."
Ryan snarled, slamming a fist into the wall hard enough to crack stone. "You think I'll bow to a bond that shouldn't exist?"
"You already have."
The wolf's laughter was quiet this time — not mocking, but heavy with truth. "You can't sever what the Moon bound. You can't kill what's already a part of you."
Ryan's breathing grew ragged. The ache in his chest became unbearable.
When the healers came for him — trembling and desperate — he didn't move at first. He only closed his eyes, every muscle tight with restraint.
"What must be done?" he asked finally, voice hollow.
Elder Maeron stepped forward. "Your blood must touch hers. The moment the bond recognizes the offering, the Plague will burn itself out. But it will cost you strength — perhaps even part of your wolf."
Ryan didn't flinch. "Prepare it."
The Elder nodded, relief softening his expression. "You have chosen wisely, my King."
Ryan's golden eyes darkened. "No," he said quietly. "I chose peace — for myself."
The Blood of the King
The chamber was silent when Ryan entered. Isabella lay still, her breathing faint. The healers withdrew, leaving them alone.
He stood beside her bed, staring down at the fragile girl who had somehow become both his curse and his undoing.
Her lips parted slightly as if she felt him there, though her eyes remained closed.
Ryan sighed, pulling a dagger from his belt. "You're trouble even half-dead," he muttered.
He sliced his palm open and pressed it gently against her lips. His blood dripped slow and steady — dark crimson against her pale skin.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the air around them shivered — a pulse of energy rippling through the room. Isabella gasped, her body arching as the Plague's black veins began to fade, replaced by faint silver light that spread from her throat to her fingertips.
Ryan staggered slightly as his strength drained, but he didn't pull away.
When the light finally dimmed, Isabella's breathing steadied. Her skin glowed faintly, the fever gone. She blinked weakly, eyes fluttering open to find him there.
"Ryan…" her voice was soft, breaking. "You… saved me."
He looked away. "Don't thank me. I did it for myself. The bond was driving me insane."
A faint smile touched her lips, weary but knowing. "Still… thank you."
He didn't answer. But as he turned to leave, his wolf's voice whispered one last thing inside him:
"Keep lying, Alpha. One day, even you won't believe it."