Chapter 168 Did the Luna get My Gift?
The heavy silence of the master suite was broken only by the ragged, shallow sound of Leela’s breathing. For hours, the room had been a battlefield of spirit and medicine, yet the victory felt further away than ever. Leela lay motionless, her skin the color of winter mist, her lips a bruised blue. The stone at her chest, once a vibrant galaxy of hope, was now a sluggish, muddy green, pulsing with a thick, sickly rhythm that seemed to drain the air from the room.
Fennigan had tried everything. He had even brought the twins in, hoping their pure, untainted bond would act as a lightning rod to pull her back. But the magic in the floorboards—the residue of Vane’s darkness—had reacted to the children’s distress, and the nursery songs had turned into panicked wails.
Magda had finally retreated to her own apothecary to gather ancient ingredients she hadn’t touched in decades. Jax slipped into the room, his face grim, reporting that his contact had begun the molecular breakdown of the petal.
Then, the phone rang.
The shrill noise was like a gunshot in the quiet room. Fennigan didn't even look at the screen; he simply handed the device to Jax and pointed toward the hallway. His eyes never left Leela’s face.
Jax stepped out, the murmur of his voice hushed and tense. A moment later, he leaned back through the door, his expression unreadable. "Fenn... I think you’re going to want to talk to them."
Fennigan let out a long, jagged sigh. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to break the physical connection he held with Leela’s hand.
"Go," Ginny said softly from the bedside chair. She reached out, her hand replacing Fennigan’s on Leela’s cold skin. "I’ve got her. We’ve been taking care of each other since we were kids, Fenn. We were together in the daylight hours while you were still just a shadow in her dreams. Trust me. Go."
Fennigan squeezed Ginny’s shoulder, a silent thank you, and stepped into the hall. He took the phone from Jax, his grip nearly crushing the casing.
"Blackwood," he growled into the receiver.
A smooth, cultured voice drifted through the line, dripping with a false, oily concern that made Fennigan’s hackles rise.
"Ah, Alpha Fennigan. I was starting to worry the delivery had been delayed. Tell me... did the Luna get my gift?"
It was Julian Northcott. The silence on the other end of the line was heavy with the weight of Fennigan’s suppressed rage.
"She got it," Fennigan said, his voice a low, lethal vibration. "And I’m currently looking at the 'gift' you sent. It’s a cowardly move, Northcott. Even for a man who hides behind a desk in the Capital."
"Cowardly? No, Alpha. It’s a diagnostic," Northcott chuckled, the sound of ice clinking in a glass audible in the background. "I needed to see how the new elemantal model handles the older suppressants. From your tone, I’d say she’s struggling. The green light is rather vivid, isn't it? It means the stone is trying to eat the poison."
Fennigan’s eyes flashed a blinding amber. "If you want her, come and take her. Stop hiding behind couriers and flowers."
"In time, Fennigan. In time," Northcott replied smoothly. "But for now, I have the antidote. And I’m willing to trade. One Luna’s life for one seat on the Council. And perhaps... a few samples of the twins' blood for my records. Think about it. You have twelve hours before the 'quieting' becomes permanent."
Fennigan’s roar didn't just vibrate the phone; it shook the very air in the hallway, a sound of such primal, jagged fury that the lights overhead flickered and groaned. Jax stepped back, his hand instinctively going to the wall as the Alpha’s power rolled off him in waves of suffocating heat.
"What are you talking about?" Fennigan bellowed into the receiver, his voice a serrated blade. "You want me to give my wife the antidote, then hand her over to you? You want to take blood from my children for your records? Are you joking? Tell me you're joking, Northcott, or I will tear the Capital down stone by stone until I find your throat!"
There was a pause, followed by a short, dry snort from the other end of the line—the sound of a man who felt entirely too safe behind his distance and his glass walls.
"You misconstrue my offer, Alpha Fennigan," Northcott replied, his tone shifting into something clinically patient, as if he were explaining a simple sum to a child. "I am not asking for a surrender. I am offering a partnership. I give you the antidote in exchange for your seat on the Council. You take the oath, and I give you the cure."
Fennigan’s knuckles popped as he gripped the phone.
"However," Northcott continued, his voice dropping into a silkier, more predatory register, "there are conditions. You and your family will live here, in the Capital, under my... supervision. A place where I can help take care of them. Where we can ensure the elemental lineage thrives under proper scientific observation. And I forewarn you, Alpha—there has never, in the history of time, been an Elemental that survived longer than twelve hours without the antidote. The stone will go out, and when the light goes out, so does her heart."
Fennigan stood frozen in the hall. The twelve-hour clock was already ticking, and nearly four of those hours had already vanished while they struggled in the dark.
"Twelve hours," Fennigan whispered, the rage replaced by a cold, hollow dread that felt like ice water in his veins.
"Twelve hours," Northcott confirmed. "The choice is yours, Fennigan. Be a king in a graveyard, or be a statesman in a palace. I’ll be waiting for your call. Don't let the silence be her eulogy."
The line went dead.
Fennigan lowered the phone, his hand trembling. He looked through the open door of the master suite. He could see Ginny sitting by the bed, her silhouette slumped with exhaustion, and beyond her, the sickly, muddy green pulse of the stone. It looked dimmer. The edges of the light were starting to fray into a dark, oily charcoal.
Jax stepped closer, his voice a frantic whisper. "Fenn, we can't. If we go to the Capital, we're walking into a cage. He’ll have the twins in a lab before the sun sets."
"He said she only has twelve hours, Jax," Fennigan said, his voice sounding dead and distant. He turned to look at Veda, who had been standing at the end of the hall, her face a mask of ancient sorrow.
"Veda," Fennigan rasped. "Is he lying? Has an Elemental ever survived the 'quieting' without their cure?"
Veda closed her eyes, her head bowing slightly. "The records from the Great Purge... they are consistent, Alpha. The synthetic toxin creates a feedback loop with the stone. The more the Elemental fights, the more the stone suffocates the body. Northcott isn't lying about the timeline. He’s the one who wrote the clock."