Chapter 28: Chapter 28

SELENE

I had never seen Lux cry before.

Not like this.

Not with his breath coming in uneven gasps, his entire body trembling as if he was holding back too much. As if years of pain, of denial, of a world that had never given him this—had never even made it a possibility—were crashing over him in an instant.

I didn’t let go.

I couldn’t.

I held him as he shattered.

His fingers clenched in the sheets, his shoulders shaking, his breaths breaking into something raw. I curled closer, resting my forehead against his, my hands framing his face, my thumbs brushing along his cheekbones as my own tears slipped down my skin.

His eyes—gods, his eyes.

They weren’t fully clear, but the fog that had once coated them, the pale, milky veil that had hidden him from the world, was no longer complete. Now, they were a stormy blue, something rich and alive.

They were his.

And I loved them.

A small, broken sound left him, something between a sob and a breath. I pressed closer, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m here.”

His forehead rested against mine, his breath shaky, his entire body pressing into me like he needed to feel everything. Like he needed to know I was real.

His voice was hoarse, wrecked.

“I can see you.”

My chest clenched. I nodded, my fingers running through his dark hair.

“I know,” I whispered.

His hands shifted, holding me now, grounding himself. We stayed like that, curled together in the quiet, letting the moment settle.

It wasn’t just that he could see.

It was that something had been given back to him.

Something stolen.

Something denied.

And now, it was his.

The moment stretched until I felt his breathing even out, his body still trembling but steadying.

I exhaled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I need to call the pack doctor.”

Lux tensed slightly but didn’t argue.

I moved to get up, and immediately, his fingers caught my wrist.

A silent plea.

I turned, looking at him—at his eyes.

“You’re safe,” I promised. “I’m not leaving. I just need to call the doctor, okay?”

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening for a second before he nodded.

I squeezed his hand before pulling away.

The doctor arrived quickly, moving to examine Lux with calm efficiency.

I sat close, watching, waiting, my wolf pacing anxiously beneath my skin, howling in triumph at the bond between us no longer being tainted by whatever curse had clung to him.

I was healed now.

Completely.

My wolf was here. And she was fierce in her love for our mate.

Lux answered the doctor’s questions in short, clipped sentences. I could feel his discomfort, his exhaustion, but he endured it.

His vision was coming, but weak. It would take time.

I saw his hands clench when she asked him to track movement, frustration clear when his eyes struggled, when things remained blurry.

I reached for him again, grounding him.

He squeezed my hand in return.

The door creaked open.

Madame Verda entered.

I tensed slightly as she stepped inside.

She watched Lux for a long moment, then me, before nodding slightly. “I see you are settling.”

Lux exhaled, the ghost of something wry crossing his face. “That’s a word for it.”

Her lips twitched, but the amusement didn’t reach her dark, knowing eyes. “Your sight is coming to you.”

It wasn’t a question.

She already knew.

She folded her hands in front of her, rings glinting in the dim light.

“I took the liberty of cleansing the land,” she said, her tone calm but edged with something…waiting.

Lux stiffened.

“The remnants of the rituals your father performed ran deep,” she continued. “Darker than I had thought. His magic wrapped itself around your blood, your bonds, your very lineage. That was not just a severance. It was something older, something tainted from the moment you were conceived.”

My stomach twisted.

Lux stayed silent, but I could feel the weight of those words settling into him, sinking like stones into deep water.

The witch inhaled, her expression unreadable. “That fire wolf was not part of the plan.” Her voice dropped slightly, thoughtful. “It was him. The parts of your father that were tethered to this realm, the pieces of him taken from each ritual, came together and tried to stop you. That was his will, his curse fighting back.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“But your force—yours and your mate’s—destroyed it.”

The air seemed to shift.

My wolf hummed, pressing against me, thrumming with satisfaction.

Madame Verda watched Lux carefully.

“That magic wrapped itself around you from the moment you were born. But now, it is gone.” A pause. “And so, you can see.”

Lux swallowed hard, his fingers flexing against mine.

She studied him for a moment longer, then nodded slightly.

“You will need to sharpen it,” she said. “You are not used to sight. But it will come.”

Lux exhaled slowly.

I could still see the emotions warring inside him. The exhaustion. The disbelief. The fear.

I squeezed his hand again.

He squeezed back.

Then, after a long pause, Lux’s voice cut through the silence.

“Do you know why?”

Madame Verda’s gaze slid back to him, thoughtful. “Why?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw tightening. “Why would he do it? Why those rituals? What did he want?”

The witch’s lips curled ever so slightly—not in amusement, but in something far colder. “Why does anyone conduct rituals, Alpha?” She let the question linger before answering. “Power. Greed.”

A shiver rolled down my spine.

She moved closer, her voice dropping to something almost reverent in its darkness. “From what I could gather, your father did not simply seek strength. He sought divinity.”

The words sent ice into my veins.

~“Divinity?”~ Lux echoed, his voice taut with restraint.

She nodded. “He was trying to transcend the limits of an alpha’s power—to break past the boundaries set by the gods themselves.” Her eyes glimmered in the dim light. “He wanted the power of the Moon Goddess.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Of course, the gods did not take kindly to his ambition,” she murmured. “Instead of granting him what he sought, they cursed his bloodline.”

The weight of that statement pressed into my chest, thick and suffocating.

Lux’s grip on my hand turned rigid. “He knew,” he said, voice like stone. “Didn’t he?”

Madame Verda inclined her head. “He knew. Otherwise, he would not have tried so desperately to keep you—the next alpha—from finding your mate.”

The fire crackled in the silence that followed.

She studied Lux carefully. “Had you not stopped this now, the cost would have been unimaginable.” Her gaze flicked to me before settling back on him. “Had your father sired more children, they too would have been cursed. Your own offspring, alpha, would have carried the burden of his transgressions—born with sickness, with suffering, with bodies twisted by the wrath of the gods.”

A sickness curled in my stomach.

“It would have been horrific,” she continued, “had you not severed it when you did.”

Lux said nothing.

He didn’t have to.

The tension in his body spoke volumes—the barely contained rage, the weight of the truth settling into his bones.

Madame Verda turned toward the door—but then, she hesitated.

Not a pause of uncertainty. No.

A calculated pause.

Slowly, she turned back, her gaze flicking between Lux and me, and the air in the room thickened, the unseen weight of a debt hanging in the space between us.

“Of course,” she murmured, “there is the matter of my price.”

A chill scraped down my spine.

Lux stilled beside me, his grip on my hand tightening ever so slightly.

The witch’s lips curved—not in amusement, but in inevitability.

“You did not think all of this came freely, did you?” she asked, tilting her head. “The cleansing of this land, the severing of curses older than memory, the restoration of something long thought lost?”

Her voice was velvet over steel.

“I have granted you much, Alpha. And now, I will take what is owed.”

My breath hitched, but Lux’s voice was steady. “What do you want?”

Madame Verda’s dark eyes gleamed, and something ancient stirred in their depths.

~“Land.”~

The word settled like a stone in my chest.

“Not all of it,” she continued smoothly, “but a stretch of it. A place for my coven to settle—distant enough to keep your wolves comfortable, but close enough that we may call upon each other when needed.”

I could hear the layers beneath her words. This wasn’t just about land. This was about leverage. Positioning.

Lux’s body remained still, but I could feel the tension humming beneath his skin.

Madame Verda went on, her tone measured. “Or perhaps…” She trailed her fingers along the edge of the bedpost, watching him closely. “There are other ways to repay me. Wolves possess things no magic can conjure—things that, for my kind, are…invaluable.”

The unspoken words curled between us like smoke.

Blood. Bone. The raw essence of the shifting magic that ran through our kind like a second pulse.

I clenched my jaw. “You want resources.”

Her gaze slid to me, and she smiled—not kind, not cruel. Just inevitable. “Magic has its costs, my dear. And so does survival.”

She straightened, smoothing the fabric of her robes. “You have time to decide. But do not mistake generosity for charity.”

A slow exhale.

Then, finally—“Rest.”

And with that, she turned, her presence receding like the tide, leaving the weight of her price pressing against the walls of the room.

Silence settled over us.

I swallowed hard, my pulse drumming against my skin.

Lux’s fingers curled around mine, his grip warm, grounding.

But neither of us spoke.

Because we both knew—

Whatever she took, it would not be small.

And it would ~never~ be forgotten.

Lux sat still, his body rigid, his jaw tight. I reached up, cupping his face again, forcing him to look at me—really look.

His hands covered mine.

He swallowed.

“I don’t know how to do this.” His voice was low, strained.

I brushed my thumb over his cheek.

“You don’t have to figure it out right now,” I whispered.

A beat.

Then, softer, broken—

“I can see you.”

Tears pricked my eyes again.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I know,” I whispered. “And I’m so proud of you.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then let out a slow, shuddering breath.

And finally—

He let himself rest.