Chapter 237

Light Fae Realm:

The enchanted pool trembled almost reverently, for the first time in almost two thousand years.

The surface remained perfectly smooth, yet something ancient moved beneath it.

The Light Fae King stopped speaking.

Every waterfall surrounding the throne room faltered for the briefest heartbeat before continuing their endless ascent toward the floating rivers above.

The silence that followed was wrong.

He slowly turned toward the enchanted basin resting at the center of the chamber.

No one had touched it, and no messenger stood nearby. Yet silver light continued blooming beneath its surface.

The light was soft, patient, and waiting.

The King’s expression hardened.

“This…” He took one slow step forward. “is not our magic.”

Every member of his court became still.

The basin brightened, and a single crimson droplet appeared upon the water.

It should have sunk.

Instead, it floated. It remained perfectly suspended, then came another, and another. Now, there were three drops.

Three entirely different shades of crimson. They circled one another slowly without ever mixing.

The King’s eyes narrowed.

“Blood.” The blood wasnt stolen, but given freely. He knew the difference immediately.

The chamber grew colder. The feeling rolled through the palace like the memory of a forgotten age.

One of the elder fae beside the throne whispered beneath her breath, “Someone is reaching across realms.”

The King said nothing.

His eyes never left the floating drops.

The first pulse came gently. The second struck harder. By the third, every river flowing through the palace answered.

The suspended waterways brightened, and the waterfalls rose faster. The floating fish beneath the crystal floors scattered in every direction.

Even the tiny fae hidden among the flowers abandoned their games.

Something powerful had entered their realm.

A plea.

The King extended one hand above the basin.

He never touched the blood yet the water itself rose to meet his fingers, and ancient runes awakened beneath the surface.

“Speak,” he ordered in fae language.

The language recognized blood before names. It did not ask who these men were. It asked only one question, what do they seek?

The blood answered with feeling.

The first drop burned with duty. The second carried unbearable grief, and the third…

The King’s brows slowly drew together.

The thrid burned with love. Not ordinary love, but one born out of mate-bond.

His breathing changed.

No Light Fae spell should have been capable of carrying the heartbeat of a wolf bond across the barriers between realms.

Unless… his fingers stiffened.

Unless the bond itself had become desperate enough to seek another source of ancient magic.

The chamber remained utterly silent.

The first drop suddenly expanded.

Within it, he did not see a face.

Only flashes of silver strand of hair. Then he saw blood on stone. He heard a woman’s laughter. Then quickly, he saw chains and darkness.

Then nothing more.

The image vanished before it could fully form.

The King frowned.

He tried again but this time the second drop responded. The second bond formed a deep, steady, and powerful heartbeat.

The bond created separate heartbeats of three lives and three souls that were bound to one.

His expression slowly changed.

The elder fae beside him looked toward the basin. “What is it, Your Majesty?” He asked with concern. The fae king has gone unusually quiet.

He did not answer.

Instead, he watched the blood. The water continued translating emotions far older than language itself.

The blood spoke of protection, longing, devotion, and desperation.

The water spilled spiritually like a veil being drawn aside.

For only a heartbeat, the King saw a silver thread stretching impossibly far, as if being passed down.

One end disappeared into darkness, and the other stopped inside his own palace.

His breath caught.

He knew that thread.

Every ruler of the Light Fae knew it. That was the thread for bloodline.

His heartbeat became painfully slow.

The thread did not stop with Beatrice. It went beyond her, past her children, and past generations.

Until finally, it ended with the unseen woman connected to these three drops of blood.

The King’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He froze in shock and his head suddenly became heavy for his neck to carry.

The elder fae took one cautious step closer.

“My King?”

His voice came quietly. “The one those wolves seek…” He looked back toward the blood. “Belongs to my blood.”

Silence fell into the chamber court.

Absolute silence. No one breathed, and even the waterfalls seemed to wait as the king tried to recover from what he had just discovered.

The King closed his eyes.

Everything Beatrice had begged for days earlier returned to him.

At the time she came to him to plead for help for her sons and their mate, he had viewed it as a mother’s grief.

Now, he understood because of the blood before him. It had crossed realms by bond for the hope of it all.

Only something tied to the oldest magic could accomplish such a thing.

He slowly opened his eyes.

“The wolves,” His voice became thoughtful. “are our sworn enemies but they do not know who she truly is yet.”

No one answered.

“They seek only their mate.” His gaze hardened. “But they have unknowingly reached…” He looked once more into the enchanted basin. “…they have placed the blood of my own house into my hands.”

The blood shimmered once.

Almost as though acknowledging it had finally found the one it had been searching for.

Then the three crimson drops slowly dissolved into the enchanted water, leaving only expanding silver ripples behind.

The chamber remained silent.

The Light Fae King did not move for a long time.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of an old decision.

“Summon Beatrice.” He paused briefly. “And prepare the Hall of Ancestors.”

The elder fae’s eyes widened. “My King…”

He looked toward the darkness beyond the enchanted pool. “If the Dark Fae have touched one born of my blood…”

His voice became cold in a way no one in the palace had heard for centuries. “then this has ceased to be only the wolves’ war.”