The door opened quietly, and Eryken entered, his weathered face drawn with exhaustion and something that looked disturbingly like grief. When he saw Nero sitting upright, his eyes widened in momentary shock before his expression settled into grim resignation.
"It worked, then," the rebellion commander said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What worked?" Nero demanded, instinctively positioning himself between Eryken and Casteel's unconscious form. "What happened to him?"
Eryken approached slowly, hands slightly raised as if calming a wild animal. "How do you feel, Nero?"
"Like something's trying to claw its way out of my skin," Nero growled, and was startled by the rumbling undertone in his own voice. "What did you do to us?"
"Not me," Eryken said, settling heavily into a chair beside the bed. "The mountain healer. You were dying, Nero. The arrow wounds, the blood loss, the journey—your body couldn't endure it." His eyes shifted to Casteel. "He wouldn't accept that."
A cold dread settled in Nero's stomach. "What did he do?"
"What you would have done for him," Eryken replied simply. "Whatever was necessary."
The restless energy beneath Nero's skin surged again, stronger this time. He felt his fingernails lengthen into sharp points, the transformation occurring without conscious thought. He stared at his hands in shock, watching as the nails retracted to normal human shape when his surprise ebbed.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered.
"The mountain healer used blood magic," Eryken explained, his voice heavy with the weight of what had transpired. "Ancient magic, from before the temples tried to control such things. She created a channel between you and Casteel."
"A channel for what?" Nero demanded, though the energy coursing through his veins told him more than words could.
"His wolf-soul," Eryken said simply. "He gave it to you, Nero. All of it. The silver wolf that made him the prophesied savior—he surrendered it completely to save your life."
The truth hit Nero like a blow. The restless energy, the heightened senses, the way his body had healed so rapidly—these weren't just side effects of their bond. They were manifestations of Casteel's gift, his sacrifice.
"No," Nero breathed, turning back to his unconscious mate with horror dawning in his eyes. "He wouldn't. He couldn't."
"He did," Eryken confirmed. "The healer warned him of the price. To save you, he would have to surrender what made him special—what made him valuable to the prophecy, to the rebellion, to Doran's plans. He chose without hesitation."
Nero's hand found Casteel's, fingers intertwining as he searched their bond for any trace of the wolf. There was nothing—only the pure, human essence of the man he loved.
"Will he survive?" The question tore from Nero's throat, raw with fear.
"The healer believes so," Eryken replied. "But he'll never shift again. The silver wolf is gone from him—and now resides in you."
As if responding to those words, the energy surged within Nero once more. This time, he didn't fight it. He let the silver power flow through him, feeling his body respond with an internal transformation that should have been impossible. His senses sharpened dramatically—he could hear conversations three rooms away, smell the individual components of the healing poultices on his chest, see dust motes dancing in the pre-dawn light with perfect clarity. And yet he had the discipline to remain human. He knew it would take nothing to shift fully.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," Nero said, his voice breaking. "He was the one—the Silver Wolf. The savior from the prophecy."
"Perhaps," Eryken said, studying Nero with calculating eyes, "the prophecy was less specific than Doran led everyone to believe. Perhaps it spoke only of a silver wolf, not who would carry it."
The implications were staggering. If the wolf-soul could transfer between bonded mates, then the prophecy might still be fulfilled—but with Nero himself as the vessel rather than Casteel. The thought terrified him almost as much as the prospect of losing his mate.
"Did you know if you died Casteel would likely follow?"
Nero sent Eryken such a death glare at the implication Casteel was just saving his own arse, Eryken took a step backwards, raising his hands in either surrender or apology.
"I never wanted this power," Nero whispered, his enhanced hearing picking up the sound of approaching hoofbeats on the road outside—still distant but coming closer.
"Well now you have it," Eryken said, though his tone suggested he understood the complexity of what had transpired. "The question is what you'll do with it."
Before Nero could respond, Casteel stirred beside him. His eyelids fluttered, then opened slowly, revealing blue eyes thatseemed somehow dimmer than before—as if a light that had always burned within them had been extinguished.
"Nero?" Casteel's voice was barely audible, but it carried such relief that Nero's heart clenched painfully. "You're alive."
"Thanks to you," Nero replied, helping Casteel sit up against the pillows. "What you did—the sacrifice—"
