Chapter 150
DARIUS
Morgana’s words landed like a volley of poisoned arrows, each one sharper and more accurate than the last.
She stood there with her arms flung wide, chest heaving with theatrical triumph, as if she had just delivered the final verdict on our entire existence and was waiting for the universe to applaud.
The ancient predator in me wanted nothing more than to let them loose, to remind this insufferable witch exactly why most beings with any sense of self-preservation didn’t mock a vampire prince to his face.
My jaw ached from how hard I clenched it.
My fangs pressed against my lower lip, threatening to descend.
But Selene’s fingers tightened around mine through the bond, warm and steady, that faint wild fae spark pulsing like a quiet heartbeat against my colder nature.
It wasn’t a command.
It was an anchor.
A reminder.
We need her.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the shadows back down inch by reluctant inch until they settled into a low, simmering churn beneath my skin.
I kept my voice low and controlled, though every word tasted like ash on my tongue.
“Eron is back.”
The moment the name left my mouth, Morgana froze.
The theatrical smirk vanished.
The dramatic flair drained from her posture like water through a sieve. For the first time since we’d arrived, the witch looked genuinely unsettled—her emerald eyes widening, color draining from her face until she looked almost as pale as one of my kind.
She knew that name.
Of course she did.
Her great-grandmother had been one of the witches who helped craft the binding spell that sealed him underground centuries ago.
The old stories said the ritual had cost three covens their strongest members and left a scar on the land that still bled magic on certain nights.
Morgana’s voice, when it finally came, was quieter than I’d ever heard it—stripped of all her usual theatrical mockery, edged with something raw and ancient that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Eron… what the fuck…” She breathed the name like it was a curse she’d hoped never to speak again.
“You’re certain?”
I met her gaze without flinching, letting the full weight of the truth settle between us like a blade.
"Yes, Morgana. I’m fucking positively, delightfully certain. Would you like me to draw you a diagram...."
Morgana didn’t laugh.
She simply stared at me, the color still drained from her face.
For a long moment the only sound was the distant rumble of thunder and the soft bubbling of her cauldron.
“He reached Selene. Used compulsion so thick she almost drove a stake through my heart. He whispered in her mind, called her ‘little fae,’ told her I was the monster who wanted her dead. He knew about her blood without ever getting close. And if her power keeps waking unchecked while the bond pulls us in opposite directions…”
I let the silence stretch for half a heartbeat, letting the weight of it settle.
“…we won’t just destroy each other. We’ll hand Eron exactly what he needs to take back the throne. He wants her—not just to hurt me, but because that fae spark could make him unstoppable. Sun immunity. Raw power surges. A weapon strong enough to break every chain we put on him the first time.”
Her gaze flicked to Selene, then back to me, calculating, weighing, remembering.
“Fuck,” she whispered, the single word heavy with centuries of inherited caution.
“That bastard was supposed to stay buried until the stars burned out. My great-grandmother gave her life helping bind him. Three covens. Twelve witches. And a forest that still screams when the wind shifts wrong.”
She dragged a hand through her wild silver-streaked hair, exhaling sharply.
“You didn’t just bite off more than you can chew, Darius. You swallowed the entire forbidden orchard, chased it with a barrel of ‘what could possibly go wrong,’ and then proposed marriage to the apocalypse while it was still chewing.”
Her voice dropped lower, losing the theatrical purr and gaining genuine gravity.
“If Eron is truly awake and already reaching her… the Eclipse Binding isn’t optional anymore. It’s survival. But understand this—” she leaned forward, eyes locked on mine with unflinching intensity,
Morgana leaned forward, her sharp emerald eyes locking onto mine with unflinching seriousness.
The theatrical mockery had completely vanished from her voice, replaced by something heavier — the weight of old, bitter knowledge.
“The Eclipse Binding won’t just link you two together,” she said slowly, choosing each word with care.
“It will rip open every fracture that already exists between your natures. Night and wildlight. Eternal darkness and living chaos. Every fear you’ve buried, every resentment you haven’t admitted, every dark corner where your vampire hunger secretly wants to devour her light… or where her wild fae magic wants to burn your immortality to ashes — all of it will be dragged into the light.”
She let the words hang for a moment, making sure we both understood the gravity.
“You will see it all. Feel it all. The ritual forces complete honesty between your essences. There are no secrets, no pretty lies, no place to hide. You’ll experience exactly how your cold, unchanging night tries to smother her wild, growing light — and how her chaos fights back, threatening to set your eternal existence on fire.”
Her gaze flicked between Selene and me.
“And if either of you flinches — if one of you pulls away in fear, if the bond senses rejection instead of acceptance — the spell won’t gently fail. It will tear you apart from the inside out. The opposing forces will clash violently, and the backlash could destroy you both long before Eron ever lays a hand on either of you.”
She leaned back slightly, her expression grim.
“So understand what you’re truly asking for. This isn’t a simple stabilization charm. It’s a brutal, merciless mirror. It will show you the worst parts of each other and of yourselves. And once the ritual begins… there is no stopping it halfway.”
Selene’s fingers tightened around mine again, her pulse steady despite the storm I could feel raging through the bond.
That bright, stubborn fae spark brushed against my colder nature—warm, defiant, refusing to yield.
I squeezed back, anchoring myself in her.
“We’re not flinching,” I said quietly.
“Whatever it costs. Whatever it shows. We do it.”
Morgana studied us both for a long, heavy moment.
Then she let out a slow breath and nodded once—sharp, decisive.
Then leaned back with a long, theatrical sigh and delivered the blow I hadn’t seen coming.
“Oh, and one tiny little detail I probably should have mentioned earlier,” she said, voice dripping with saccharine sarcasm.
“The Eclipse Binding can only be performed during an actual eclipse."
"What?" Xander hissed from behind me
"Well. Duh. That’s why it’s called the Eclipse Binding, genius. You can’t just snap your undead fingers and make the sun and moon do a little dance whenever you feel like stabilizing your walking natural disaster of a relationship. Celestial mechanics don’t give a damn about your romantic urgency.”
I felt the words hit like a slap.
“Fuck,” I muttered, the curse slipping out before I could stop it.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Selene’s hand tightened in mine, but her voice stayed remarkably steady.
“When’s the next eclipse?”
Morgana’s smile widened, slow and wicked, clearly enjoying the way the ground had just shifted beneath us.
“Three days,” she said cheerfully, as if she were announcing tomorrow’s weather.
“Partial lunar eclipse, visible right over this charming little forest. Perfect timing for two idiots trying to braid night and wildlight together without exploding. You’ve got seventy-two hours to decide if you’re both still brave enough—or stupid enough—to go through with it once you see what the reading reveals.”
Three days.
The number echoed in my skull like a death knell.
Three days for Eron to push harder, for Selene’s power to surge unpredictably, for the already-fractured bond to tip in the wrong direction and tear us apart before we even reached the ritual.
I dragged my free hand down my face, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
“Three fucking days. Of course it’s three days.”
Morgana gave a delicate shrug, clearly reveling in my frustration.
“Celestial events aren’t known for their convenience, prince. The moon doesn’t reschedule just because you’ve finally realized you’ve mated yourself to a living sparkler with enough chaos in her veins to rewrite reality. You want the binding? You wait for the eclipse. Or you roll the dice and hope your bond doesn’t implode before then.”
Selene let out a soft, slightly shaky breath beside me, but her grip on my hand never wavered.
Through the bond I felt her steady resolve pushing back against the rising panic—the same stubborn spark that had first drawn me to her like a moth to flame.
She was afraid.
I could taste it.
But she wasn’t running.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the shadows back under control.
“We’ll be here in three days. All of us. Ready for the reading and the binding.”
Morgana studied us for a long moment, the mockery fading into something sharper, almost calculating.
“Brave. Or suicidal. The two look remarkably similar from where I’m sitting.” She snapped the tome shut with a decisive thud. “Fine. Come back at dusk on the third night. Bring nothing but honesty and whatever courage you haven’t already spent on bad decisions. And try not to let your ancient enemy turn your mate into a puppet before then. I’d hate to waste a perfectly good eclipse on a corpse.”
She rose, already waving us toward the door with an imperious flick of her fingers.
“Now get out. My cottage has had quite enough vampire drama for one evening. Midnight and I have dinner plans that don’t involve listening to you breathe.”
The black cat reappeared from somewhere in the rafters, giving us one last judgmental hiss before vanishing again.
As we stepped back outside into the damp evening air, the storm still rumbling overhead, I pulled Selene closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
The bond thrummed between us—warm light pressing against cold night, testing, questioning, refusing to break.
Three days.
Three fucking days!