Chapter 312

【Elsa POV】

The Mad Prince leans back in his ornate throne, his pale fingers drumming against the armrest as his blood-red eyes survey us with amusement. "Now then," he says, his voice carrying centuries of arrogance, "I find myself curious about something."

He pauses, tilting his head as if listening to an invisible companion. "How exactly did you manage to infiltrate my domain?" Another pause, then his lips curve into a cold smile. "Ah, I see. You crawled through the filthy sewers like the rats you are. How... disappointing. Wolf pups, truly."

The insult hits its mark. Beside me, Leif's entire body goes rigid, his hands clenching into fists as his amber eyes blaze with fury. Karl takes a half-step forward, his lips pulling back in a snarl that reveals his elongated canines, blue eyes flashing dangerously.

"Easy," Leif mutters under his breath, though his own voice is strained with barely contained rage.

Neither of them speaks aloud after that, but I feel the subtle shift in the air as Freyja's mental link opens between us.

We can't retreat now, Leif's thoughts flow through the connection, sharp with determination. Not when we're this close.

That bastard's toying with us, Karl responds, his mental voice tight with anger. Do we strike now or wait for an opening?

We watch his reactions, I interject through the link. See what he reveals. If we can end this here—

The Mad Prince watches our silent exchange with growing amusement, throwing his head back in laughter that echoes off the stone walls. "Ah, young wolves," he says, his fangs gleaming in the torchlight. "Always so quick to anger. Beasts are so... predictable in their fury."

The temperature in the room seems to drop as his laughter fades. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, he simply vanishes.

A gust of icy wind whips through the chamber, extinguishing several torches and plunging us into deeper shadow.

"Shit, where—" Karl starts, his head whipping left and right.

Leif drops into a defensive crouch, nostrils flaring as he tries to catch any trace of scent. "Can't smell him," he growls. "It's like he just—"

"Here, my friends."

The voice comes from directly behind us. We spin around to find the Mad Prince hovering in the air, his feet dangling several inches off the ground, arms crossed casually over his chest. His eyes burn like twin flames in the darkness.

"Son of a bitch," Karl breathes.

Before any of us can react, the Mad Prince moves.

His foot connects with Karl's chest in a blur of motion that my eyes can barely track. The impact sends Karl flying backward across the chamber like a ragdoll. He crashes into an ornate wooden desk with a bone-jarring crack, books and papers exploding outward as the heavy furniture splinters beneath him.

"Karl!" I scream, starting toward his crumpled form, but movement in my peripheral vision makes me freeze.

The Mad Prince has already closed the distance to Leif. Vampire speed makes him nothing more than a pale streak as he seizes Leif around the throat with one hand, lifting him effortlessly from the ground.

"No!" I shout, but they're already airborne.

The vampire rockets upward toward the vaulted ceiling, carrying Leif with him like he weighs nothing. Leif's legs kick frantically, his hands clawing at the iron grip around his throat.

"Let him go!" I yell up at them.

"Truly pathetic," the Mad Prince calls down, his voice now echoing from the shadows above. "Such strength you claim to possess, Alpha, yet here you dangle like a broken toy."

Leif tries to speak but only manages a strangled gasp. His face is already darkening, veins standing out on his forehead as he struggles for air.

Terror claws at my chest as I watch him fight uselessly against the vampire's grip.

"Please," I call out desperately. "What do you want? We can—"

"What I want," the Mad Prince interrupts, "is to watch the life drain from his eyes before I move on to the rest of you."

That's when I feel it—a familiar presence stirring in the depths of my mind. Not Freyja this time, but something else entirely.

Elsa! Grimoire's voice explodes through our soul bond, urgent and commanding. His belt! Look at his belt now!

My gaze snaps to the Mad Prince's waist. There, catching the flickering torchlight, is an ornate leather belt with a large buckle. At its center sits a stone that pulses with purple light, its faceted surface unmistakably familiar.

That's his anchor! Grimoire's mental voice is almost frantic. The source of his power in this place! Destroy it!

My hands begin to tingle as I close my eyes, reaching for the magic that flows through my veins. But this time I dig deeper, pulling not just on my own power but on the ancient forces that run beneath this land.

Ice and fire. Winter's bite and summer's forge-heat. I feel the magic building in my core, cold as mountain streams yet burning like lightning.

Above me, the Mad Prince continues his monologue, too absorbed in Leif's suffering to notice what I'm doing.

"Let's see how long an Alpha can hold his breath," he muses aloud. "The strong ones sometimes last nearly three minutes before their hearts stop."

Leif's struggles are growing weaker. His hands fall away from the vampire's wrist, his body going slack.

"No," I whisper, then louder: "No!"

I open my eyes and release everything I've gathered. The magic erupts from me in the form of a crackling sphere, ice-blue flames dancing around its core as it streaks across the chamber.

The Mad Prince notices it at the last second, his head turning toward the approaching energy ball. His eyes widen in surprise.

"What—"

The impact creates a brilliant flash of purple and blue light, followed by the Mad Prince's ear-splitting scream of rage and pain.

The purple glow dies instantly, and the vampire's form dissolves into a cloud of crimson mist. His grip on Leif vanishes, sending my mate plummeting toward the stone floor below.

"Leif!" I sprint forward, my heart in my throat.

He hits the ground hard but manages to roll with the impact, coming up in a defensive crouch. Relief floods through me as I see he's conscious and breathing, though there are angry red welts around his throat.

"Are you hurt?" I drop to my knees beside him, my hands hovering over the bruises.

"I'm fine," he rasps, his voice hoarse but determined. He struggles to his feet, swaying slightly. "Check on Karl."

But before either of us can move toward our fallen friend, the Mad Prince's voice booms through the chamber. No longer cultured and controlled, it's raw with centuries of accumulated fury.

"DAMN YOU, WOLF PUPS!" The words seem to come from everywhere at once, reverberating off the stone walls. "You've destroyed my most precious treasure! For this sacrilege, you will suffer torments I have perfected over a thousand years! You will learn the true meaning of ancient darkness!"

The temperature plummets so fast I can see my breath. Frost begins forming on the walls around us, and icicles start growing from the ceiling.

"Well," Leif croaks, his hand finding mine. "I think we pissed him off."