“She will be far stronger this time.”
“It will take considerably more power to kill her.”
“And this is why you’ve called me? To thank me and offer tips on killing your sister?” I asked, suspicion lacing my tone. In the Fae realm, surprises like this were rarely what they seemed.
The High Lord’s gaze sharpened, though a flicker of weariness passed through his eyes. “I’ve sat idly by while my youngest sister corrupted my kingdom and imprisoned our siblings. I’m no fool to think she can be saved. If she’s evaded death twice, she must be eliminated. But no, that’s not the only reason I’ve summoned you.”
He looked impossibly youthful, but I suspected his years stretched far beyond what his appearance betrayed. Many of the Fae he’d once called friends had likely faded from this world long ago. His voice turned thoughtful, edged with curiosity. “May I be so bold as to assume, since you are now Fae, that you care for the survival of this realm as deeply as you do for the human one?”
“Of course,” I replied firmly. “I want nothing more than to save this realm. But I won’t destroy the human world to do it.”
A faint smirk touched his lips. “Did you know some of our greatest spirit masters hail from the Night Court? They say it’s because many of us can wield both water and air, creating a natural bond with spirit magic. Some claim the Day Court shares this talent, but fire masters often lack the patience and restraint for such a delicate art.”
Before I could respond, Sofia’s low snarl reverberated through the throne room. The sound made every guard stiffen, their hands twitching toward their weapons.
The High Lord’s gaze shifted, scrutinizing Sofia and Chiara for the first time. His expression remained composed, but there was a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes. “I sense power in them both, though this one”-his gaze rested on Sofia-“is mortal. And deeply connected to fire. Tell me, young wolf, did my point displease you?”
Sofia’s glare remained unflinching, but I interjected before the tension could escalate further. “What does spirit magic have to do with saving this realm?”
His attention returned to me, his midnight-plum eyes calm yet piercing. “I am no master of spirit magic, but I was fortunate to learn from one. He taught me what I will now tell you.” He leaned forward slightly, his tone quiet but weighted. “The solution you seek-the one that can save this realm-cannot be found in books. It won’t come from whispers of ancient creatures or scattered lore. The answer lies within you. Only you hold the key, and only you can determine whether you are worthy of it.”
The words struck a chord I hadn’t expected. A mix of triumph and frustration churned within me. How much easier would this journey be if there were some guide-a step-by-step plan for saving a realm? Yet I knew deep down that if anyone were to write such a guide, it would have to be me.
The High Lord’s voice softened. “Those among my guard who still follow Marinella do so at great cost. They are marked as traitors, charged with crimes against our court. My realm is fractured, and I cannot risk any more lives by sending my warriors into unfamiliar territory. However, I can ensure the portals are protected, preventing further incursions. Alongside the fragment of my power you now carry, this is my repayment to you-for the life debt I owe.”
“It will have to be enough,” I replied, resolute but not ungrateful. “But you understand, don’t you? If I fail to save this realm, your court is doomed anyway. You might have to face the possibility of surrendering your magic, your immortality, for a mortal life.”
His expression turned distant, his voice tinged with something ancient and sorrowful. “For many of us, that is unthinkable. The Fae do not adapt easily. Most would choose death over abandoning the world they know.”
The High Lord escorted us to the portals himself, accompanied by an entourage of warriors. The gesture, though guarded, was appreciated.
“If you succeed in saving this realm, consider me and my court your allies,” he declared, his voice steady with quiet strength. Instead of offering his hand, he crossed his arm over his chest in a gesture of respect. “I am Delfino, and it has been an honor meeting you, Isabella-and your companions.”
As we stepped through the portal, I concentrated not on a place but a person. Rather than visualizing a town square littered with portals, I focused on the bond tethering me to Leonardo, a connection that stretched across worlds.
When we emerged, chaos greeted us. The acrid scent of smoke and saltwater filled the air, carried by harsh winds that scattered debris across the ground.
Portals gaped open everywhere-on rooftops, in backyards, even inside vehicles. Fae warriors flooded through them, their magic clashing in vivid streaks of silver and cobalt. Some glimmered faintly purple as spirit magic mingled with the fray.
I spotted Carlo soaring through the air, flames erupting from his palms before he shifted mid-leap, landing as a sleek wolf. Leonardo’s arctic-white wolf was a whirlwind of ice, freezing enemies in place before his fangs tore into their throats. Razor-sharp shards of ice spiraled outward, slicing through immortal skin with precision.
But it wasn’t enough. Our forces were overwhelmed, outnumbered by the sheer tide of Fae warriors. Werewolves fell, vulnerable to the magic they couldn’t wield.
I stood amidst the chaos, feeling both removed and deeply entrenched in it. A plan began to take shape in my mind, one that required leaving the battle behind-if only briefly. I needed allies, and I knew exactly where to find one.