Chapter 136 If one must die
DARIAN
The knock comes barely seconds after Iris drifts off to sleep. Her soft breaths fill the room, peaceful and steady, and I hesitate before leaving her side.
“Iris,” I murmur softly, bending down to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Sleep well, love.”
She murmurs something incoherent in response, curling closer into her blankets. I hesitate, heart heavy, before slipping from the room.
The knock comes again, sharper this time, and I know it’s not idle. I pull on a dark tunic over my bare chest, my movements tense, and stride toward the door.
When I open it, a guard stands there, rigid and serious, the torchlight flickering across his armor.
“My lord,” he says, voice low but urgent. “The Lycan king… he requests your presence immediately.”
I blink, frowning. “At this hour?”
He inclines his head. “He said it cannot wait.”
I feel my chest tighten. “Thank you.” I close the door, my mind already racing. Iris is asleep. I can’t wake her. She doesn’t need this. Not tonight. Not ever.
I move swiftly, pulling on the rest of my armor and securing my sword at my side. The corridors of the haven are quiet, empty, the torches casting long shadows. My mind spins with possibilities, all dark, all heavy.
When I reach my father’s study, the door is ajar, and I notice two unfamiliar figures standing just inside. My father sits behind the desk, expression unreadable as always, but there’s an edge to him tonight that sends a chill down my spine.
I stop at the doorway. “You asked for me?”
My father gestures for me to sit. “Darian,” he begins, voice steady, measured. “There are matters we cannot ignore. The prophecy… it cannot be postponed. It cannot be… ignored.”
I swallow hard, heart pounding. “I’m listening.”
The two figures beside him step forward slightly, their presence commanding, silent but heavy. I sense the weight of their authority before they even speak.
“The prophecy,” my father continues, “dictates a sacrifice. A life must be offered to the Moon Goddess for balance, for the continuation of the pack.”
I feel my stomach drop. “A life?”
“Yes,” one of the figures says, voice low and cold. “One life must be surrendered willingly, or the pack, and the balance of power, will be broken. The prophecy names either you or… the female.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “Iris?”
“Yes,” my father confirms, eyes locked on mine. “It is as it has been foretold. One of you must die. And if one dies, the other may live. The pack, the prophecy, all demand this.”
My chest tightens, a rush of heat and fear surging through me, but I force my voice steady. “Then I offer myself.”
My father’s eyes narrow slightly, studying me. “You would do this willingly?”
“Yes,” I reply, voice firm. “Iris lives. I do not hesitate.”
The other figure, a woman with piercing eyes, steps forward. “The sacrifice will be performed in a ceremony. On the day set by the Moon Goddess, the Moon Stone Knife will be plunged into your chest. The prophecy will be fulfilled, and the pack will remain safe.”
I inhale sharply, the weight of their words pressing down on me. “So… she survives. That’s what this means?”
“Yes,” they reply in unison. “She will live, but you… you will die.”
I close my eyes for a brief second, picturing Iris, her laughter, the soft curve of her lips, the way her wolf hums under her skin when she’s happy, the way she’s changed me, completely and irreversibly. My throat tightens.
“And you’re certain this is… necessary?” I ask quietly. “There’s no other way?”
“There is none,” my father says firmly. “The Moon Goddess demands balance. The prophecy is clear.”
I run a hand down my face, trying to steady myself. My wolf growls low, restless, and I can feel the pull of the inevitable in my chest. But my mind and my heart, they are resolute. I will not let her die.
“I will do this,” I repeat, voice steady despite the tightness in my chest. “But…” I pause, looking from my father to the figures beside him, my gaze hardening. “There is one condition.”
My father raises an eyebrow. “A condition?”
“Yes,” I say, stepping closer, voice firm. “I want a proper mating ceremony with Iris. Before… before any of this happens. She deserves it. We deserve it. I will not die knowing we… we were denied that. That our bond was unfinished.”
My father studies me for a long moment, the silence stretching thick and heavy between us. “And you think… this is reasonable?”
“I do,” I say firmly, my hands clenching at my sides. “The prophecy may demand my death, but it does not demand I live unloved, unlived, or incomplete. I am asking for one moment, one ceremony, before the inevitable. Let her feel the depth of my bond, let her know the fullness of my love, and then… I will go willingly.”
There’s a pause. My father leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing as if weighing the weight of my words against the gravity of the prophecy. Finally, he nods.
“Very well,” he says, voice heavy but resigned. “A proper mating ceremony will be arranged. You will have the bond formalized, witnessed, and sanctified according to tradition. And then…” His gaze darkens slightly. “…the sacrifice will proceed as foretold.”
I bow my head, a mixture of relief and determination surging through me. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “That is all I ask. I’ll Let her know, let the pack know… but most importantly, I’ll let her know. She deserves it.”
My father nods slowly, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. The two figures remain for a moment longer, their eyes cold, calculating, before they leave the study silently, vanishing into the shadows as if they were never there.
I remain seated for a long moment, the weight of the prophecy pressing down on me, the inevitability of my fate a constant hum beneath my skin. My wolf growls low, restless, alert to danger and emotion alike, and I can feel the tension coiling in my chest.
But beneath it all, there’s a fire, a fierce protective heat that flares whenever I think of Iris. I will give her everything; my love, my bond, my life itself without hesitation.
I rise from the chair and stride back through the corridors, mind sharp, body tense. I reach my room, and the sight of Iris sleeping so peacefully makes my chest ache in a way I’ve never felt before. She is so fragile, so perfect in this moment, and I am overwhelmed with the need to protect her, to cherish her, to ensure her happiness no matter the cost.
I kneel beside the bed, brushing her hair back gently, my thumb stroking her cheek. “Iris,” I whisper softly. “You will never understand how much you mean to me. I promise… I will do everything, everything, to keep you safe.”
She stirs slightly, murmuring something incoherent in her sleep, and I feel a pang in my chest. My hand curls around hers, holding it lightly, reverently, as if by contact I can transfer my vow into her very soul.
I rise and move to the window, gazing out at the moonlit landscape. The night is calm, deceptive in its serenity. I think of the Moon Goddess, of the prophecy, and the day that will come, and my heart tightens with a mixture of fear and resolve.
It is inevitable, yes. But it does not change my choice. I will face it willingly. I will embrace it for her. I will die if it means she lives.
And yet… I will ensure that before any of that happens, she knows my heart, my soul, my bond. She will never be denied the depth of what we share. Not even the Moon Goddess herself can take that from her.
I pace the room, restless, my mind racing with plans, thoughts, strategies, but above all, memories of her smile, her laugh, the way she touches me without hesitation, without fear. My chest aches with desire, longing, and love all at once, and I know that whatever comes, I am ready.
I am ready to fight. I am ready to sacrifice. I am ready to love with everything I have.
Because she is worth everything.