Chapter 26 The Borderland Fever
The Grey Woods were a graveyard of twisted oaks and suffocating mist, a buffer zone where the air itself crackled like static. Every step I took away from the Silver Territory felt like my skin was being peeled off layer by layer.
The Triple Soul bond wasn’t just a bond anymore.
It was an addiction.
And I was in violent withdrawal.
“Focus, Lyra,” Kael’s voice whispered in my ear, crisp and clinical through the silver earrings. “You’ve covered six miles. Your heart rate is climbing into the danger zone. Regulate your breathing or your lungs will seize.”
“I can’t—” I rasped, stumbling and bracing myself against a tree that felt like solid ice. “I can’t feel my hands, Kael.”
The fever was back. A white-hot spike drove through the base of my skull.
“The wire,” I gasped. “It’s pulling. It’s going to snap.”
“It won’t snap,” Kael said, but I heard the strain beneath his control. “It’s a tether, not a cage. Use the focus techniques. Categorize the pain. Don’t let it become a monster.”
“It already is,” I choked.
The fog shifted.
I looked up—and saw Caspian.
He stood near a cluster of dead ferns, gold eyes burning with familiar arrogance, lips curved in that infuriating half-smirk.
“Caspian?” My hand trembled as I reached for him. “Did you follow me? You’re not supposed to be here.”
He didn’t move.
You’re weak, little wolf.
The voice wasn’t in my ear. It was in my head.
You’re nothing without the ring.
I blinked.
He was gone.
Then I saw Rune.
He sat on a fallen log with his back to me, massive shoulders bowed as if he were carrying the weight of the mountain itself.
“Rune!” I cried. “Help me!”
The figure dissolved into mist.
My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the damp earth, cold seeping into my dress. My skin burned while my bones felt like dry ice.
Mate Withdrawal.
A body rejecting survival without its anchors.
Snap.
A branch broke to my left.
This time, it wasn’t a hallucination.
A low, guttural growl rolled through the fog. Yellow eyes—muddy, hungry—fixed on me. Not gold. Not Alpha.
A rogue wolf.
Mangy. Scarred. Starved.
It smelled my weakness.
“Lyra, move!” Kael barked. “Left flank. Three meters!”
I didn’t think.
My fingers closed around Rune’s dagger.
The moment I gripped the leather-wrapped hilt, power surged up my arm—solid, brutal, protective. It felt like Rune’s hand over mine, guiding the blade.
The rogue lunged.
I rolled aside, movements heavy with fever, but the dagger moved clean and fast. I slashed upward.
The blade bit deep.
Silver hissed. Flesh smoked.
The rogue yelped, staggering back as the shackle-silver burned through its shoulder.
“Faceslapped by a girl,” I panted, dragging in air. “Get… out… of here.”
It didn’t wait.
The wolf fled into the mist.
“Good,” Kael said quietly. “Now move. You’re becoming a beacon.”
I tried to stand.
Pain detonated through me again. My vision blurred. I clutched my left hand, fingers curling around Caspian’s heavy signet ring.
The cold in my chest shattered.
The ring pulsed—hot, violent, alive.
Caspian’s heartbeat.
“Kael gives the map,” I whispered, teeth chattering. “Rune gives the shield. But you…” I swallowed hard. “You’re the fire, Caspian. Without you, everything is cold.”
“Lyra, keep moving,” Kael urged. “The plague’s biological signature is closing in. You’re slipping into sub-lucidity. Talk to me.”
“I can’t hear you over the ringing,” I said, staggering forward.
The trees blurred into grasping black fingers. The ring burned against my skin, the only thing tethering me to reality.
In my delirium, clarity struck.
Kael and Rune were essential—walls and roof.
But Caspian was the hearth.
Without him, the house was just stone.
I stumbled into a clearing where the forest opened into a bleak, rocky expanse. Wind tore at me, vicious and cold.
“Lyra, stop,” Kael snapped. “I’m losing your vitals. Your core temperature is crashing. You’re going into shock.”
“I just need to sleep,” I murmured, sinking to the frozen ground. My hand stayed clenched around the ring. “Just for a minute.”
“Don’t you dare close your eyes!” Kael shouted. “Rune is trying to breach the gate. Caspian is tearing the war room apart. If you die—”
“Tell them…” My voice faded. “Tell them I tried.”
Darkness crept in.
The tearing sensation returned—sharp, final—like the wire had snapped.
Silence.
Then—
Boots crunched on gravel.
I forced my eyes open.
Figures emerged from the mist.
Grey Wolves.
Nomadic exiles. Lean. Scarred. Wrapped in furs and scavenged armor.
At their center stood something else.
Not a wolf.
Tall. Lithe. Skin faintly iridescent under moonlight. Eyes sharp and cat-green.
A Fae exile.
“Well now,” he murmured, kneeling beside me. His gaze ignored my face, fixed instead on the faint silver glow beneath my skin. “What do we have here? A fallen star from the Thorne’s crown?”
“Stay… back,” I rasped, reaching weakly for Rune’s dagger.
He leaned closer, scenting the air.
His eyes widened.
“Three Alphas,” he said softly. “And one is the Heir.”
Recognition sparked.
“You’re the Silver Luna,” he continued. “The one the Witch Lord is screaming for.”
“She’s worth a fortune,” a Grey Wolf growled. “Let’s sell her at the border-market.”
“No,” the Fae said, eyes flicking to Caspian’s ring. “She’s worth more than gold.”
He smiled.
“She’s a key.”
He reached out and unclipped the earrings from my ears.
The link severed.
“Kael!” I screamed in my mind.
Silence answered.
The Fae lifted me effortlessly, his touch cold, empty of warmth.
“We take her to the Old Temple,” he ordered. “Not for the cure. If the Witch Lord wants the Spark, he’ll pay our price.”