Chapter 41 Wizard Bindings and Mate Bondings

Chapter 41 Wizard Bindings and Mate Bondings
Vladimir Drakov

The faces staring back at me from the screen were grim. Ancient. Powerful. Concerned.

None of which I enjoyed seeing. The Council of Elders did not panic easily. When they called an emergency meeting, it was rarely good news.

Unfortunately, today proved no different. "He is growing stronger." The statement came from Elder Marcus, his weathered face illuminated by the glow of the monitor.

A heavy silence followed. No one disagreed. No one could. Because we had all felt it. The shifts in the magical currents. The weakening of the bindings. The increasing reports from across supernatural territories.

"He should not have this much influence while still imprisoned," another Elder muttered.

"And yet he does."
My jaw tightened.

Mordelus. The Dark Wizard. A monster powerful enough that wolves, vampires, lycans dragons, fae and shifters had once put aside centuries of conflict to stop him.

A man who had sold his soul to demonic forces in exchange for what the dark forces promised. Power. Immortality. Dominion.

And now the bastard was trying to rise again.

"Reports confirm he is controlling rogues and strays," I said. The gathered council members nodded grimly.

Pack wolves had stronger mental defenses. Structured hierarchies. Alphas. Pack bonds.

But rogues? Loners? Those without strong ties? They were vulnerable. Easy prey. Easy soldiers.

"He is rebuilding his army," Elder Cassandra agreed. The words settled heavily over the meeting. Because we'd seen this before. Just less than 20 years ago.

And the death toll had nearly wiped out several of the Great Bloodlines.

"How long?" I asked.

The oldest Elder present sighed. "Our estimates place complete freedom within nine to twelve months."

I kept my face impassive, but inside I shuddered. A year - maybe less. Far too soon. My fingers tightened against the desk. "What about the binding?"

Another silence. This one worse. "The spell continues to weaken." Merrick spoke.

Of course it did. Because the original binding had required something almost impossible. His own bloodline. The strongest magical bloodlines. A blood offering from the strongest – dragon, vampire, lycan, fae, werewolf.

And one witch powerful enough to channel it all. Serena. His half-sister. A witch whose power rivalled his. Except hers had been white magic and his dark. A woman who had paid for her courage with her life.

The Dark Wizard had orchestrated her death almost nineteen years ago. And ever since...The spell had slowly begun to unravel without its tether.

"We need another witch."

"No."

The Elder Romulus shook his head. "Not just a witch." His expression hardened. "We need an exceptionally powerful witch."

The implication was clear. The kind born once every few centuries. Rare. Dangerously rare.

"Or?" I already knew the answer. But I asked anyway.

"Someone from his bloodline." He answered, grey face sombre.

The room fell silent. None of us liked those odds. Finding either would be difficult. Finding one within a year or less? Potentially impossible.

"If the binding fails completely," Elder Marcus said quietly, "he will begin eliminating the remaining Great Bloodlines."

Because they were the only ones capable of opposing him. The only obstacle standing between him and what he wanted. Rule. Power. An entire world kneeling beneath demonic influence.

"We cannot allow that," I said coldly. No one disagreed.

The meeting dragged on another hour. Strategies. Search parties. Contingencies. None of them good enough.

By the time the call ended, a headache was building behind my eyes. I closed my laptop and leaned back in my chair. The room suddenly felt very quiet. Very heavy.

A year. Maybe less. The future of the supernatural world hanging on finding a witch powerful enough to renew an ancient spell.

Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful.

The office door burst open and I instinctively straightened, ready to receive and eliminate any threat.

My son entered, blonde fair flopping over his forehead. "Nikolai! Whwn will you learn to enter a room like a normal person?" I asked drolly. He grinned unrepentantly, blue eyes twinkling.

And just like that, every serious thought evaporated.

My son strode into the room looking entirely too cheerful for a man who was technically the Prince of the Undead. Excitement practically radiated from him.

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh Gods no Nik."

His grin widened. "Oh yes Father."

I pointed at him accusingly. "Tell me you did not go to the stables yet again and harass the groomsmen and stablemaster ."

He looked offended. "As if I would neglect preparation. Need to keep them on their toes"

"You checked them three times yesterday." I reminded him.

"Four." He corrected with a smirk

"That's worse." I groaned, anticipating resignations in the near future.

"It is called attention to detail." Nikolai declared, flopping his tall body down on one of the leather chairs.

"It is called obsession." I said dryly.

Nikolai rolled his eyes dramatically. I laughed.

There he was. The son I'd raised.

The boy who once brought home a three-legged fox because he thought it looked lonely and the other animals probably laughed at him.

The teenager who had accidentally released twenty-two doves at someones wedding before the time because he wanted them to experience freedom.

The young handsome vampire who now looked like he was one love song away from writing poetry. "You've got it bad," I informed him.

He dropped into a chair. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" I barked out a laugh. "You’ve terrorised the cook changing the menu twice and inspected a stable six times for one woman."

"Seven." He said, ears turning red.

I stared. He grinned. I shook my head. Absolutely hopeless. Vampire Prince! My 500 year old ass.

Then his expression shifted. Becoming more thoughtful. "There is a complication."

I immediately straightened, brow furrowing. A parent’s protective instinct as the fore. "What is it Son?"

"A werewolf." He said. “Alpha…sniffing around her.”

Of course there was. Why couldn't life ever be simple? "A serious rival?" I asked.

Nikolai made a face and nodded. "He wants her too."

The possessive edge in his voice did not escape me. Interesting. Very interesting.
"I need to make sure she chooses me." He said.

Ah. There it was. Not just competition. Fear too.

I leaned forward. "Nikolai." His eyes lifted to mine. "If she is your fated mate..." I smiled slightly. "Then she will make the right choice."

He didn't look convinced. "Vampires don't have mate bonds the way wolves do."

"Not exactly like theirs no. But we can also sense our mates. The pull, the connection." I tried reassuring him. "Because fate exists beyond wolves with other supernatural species."

His expression remained troubled. I understood. More than he knew. Because finding a true mate...That was rarer than most supernatural creatures realized. "Do not take it lightly," I said quietly. "If she truly is your mate, she is the most precious thing you will ever find."

For a moment, something vulnerable crossed his face. Then it disappeared beneath a grin. "Well, I did try compelling her."

I blinked. "Nikolai! You what? How could you do that if you suspect she is your mate?"

His grin widened. "Father, you are missing the operative word…I said tried. Persuasion did not work on her.”

I stared. Then burst out laughing. "That is so wrong."

"Hey - it didn't work. Told you I had to resort to pulling one of our own horses from winning the Derby to get her on a date " he said defensively with a pout. That made me laugh even harder.

"It failed completely." He said as if still racking his brain about that.

Now I was genuinely amused. "Perhaps," I said smugly, "your skills are lacking. Maybe because you're twenty-three and barely out of diapers by vampire standards."

"Oh please, don’t give me that." He waved me off. "You try then, old man. I dare you."

I barked a laugh. "Old man? And you want me to compel my future daughter-in-law? Unreal."

"Go on, try it." He pointed at me. "I guarantee you'll fail too."

His grin softened unexpectedly. "Sienna isn't just beautiful." Something warm entered his expression. Something sincere. "She's special."

The room grew quiet. And for the first time since he'd entered, I saw how deeply this had gotten under his skin.

How real it was. How much he already cared. And a small part of me was happy. Because I had not seen my son this involved, or this happy in years. Not truly. Not from the heart.

But another part of me...Wondered. ‘Could she really be the one?’

I stared out the office window into the darkness beyond. Four hundred and fifty years. That was how long I had searched. Four and a half centuries. And I had never found my mate.

Perhaps fate simply hadn't written one for me. Or perhaps I had missed her. Either way...The possibility had long ago become little more than a distant dream.

Yet here was my son, not yet even a quarter of a century old, talking about one woman as though she hung the moon.

And tomorrow, I would finally meet the girl he couldn't stop talking about. And perhaps then...I would decide for myself whether she truly was as special as he believed.