Chapter 130

“From life to death, from death to life, on scales of fate, we balance the strife . . .”

Above, the storm echoes my anguish, its ferocity tearing through the heavens. But amid the chaos, there’s a haunting melody when I hear a voice join me. My eyes open to see Kelly stepping forward, then one by one, they all do. Even Leila, who sits leaning against her grandmother, joins the chant. Her lips quiver as she stares at Theron.

“It’s okay, dear,” Theron tells her, and she clenches her eyes shut, tears spilling down her cheeks as she chants. Their voices, rich with power, lace and weave through the air.

As each witch of the coven lends me their essence, a corresponding rune flares to life.

“Bound by blood, by love’s fierce cry, we summon forth the soul that lies . . .”

The magic swells within, a tidal wave of pure force. It’s terrifying, the sensation of dancing at the precipice of life and death, of being both the puppet and the puppeteer.

With every word the coven utters, the weight of my decision grows heavier. Trading one life for another is no simple act. It’s a challenge to the very fabric of the universe.

Regan’s form, cold and unmoving, is the epicenter of my world. The desperate hope that I can reclaim him drives me forward, even as doubt and fear claw at the edges of my resolve.

The storm reaches its peak, the skies torn asunder by lightning and thunder. The very ground seems to shake with anticipation, echoing the turmoil within me.

A surge of magic roils within, a sensation that’s both exhilarating and harrowing. “Theron’s blood, a father’s due, for the son’s breath, life renewed . . .”

Each uttered word feels like a chain, binding me to a decision that challenges the cosmos itself. Lightning lashes the earth, its fingers of electricity forcing everyone to leap away from Regan and Theron, but my voice doesn’t waiver.

The spell’s force crashes down in a blinding explosion. The energy, volatile and wild, seeks its target—Theron. And as the finality of the chant engulfs the night, the balance shifts.

“With love’s sacrifice, destiny’s might, we tip the scales and force life’s spite!”

Another bolt—this one even more potent—seeks Regan. The night becomes as bright as day, forcing us to shield our eyes against the intensity. A moment later, an enveloping darkness returns.

Two bodies lay on the scorched earth, Theron and Regan. A hush blankets the surroundings as if the very world holds its breath. Seconds feel like an eternity until, against all odds, Regan gasps. The feeble sound is the sweetest I’ve ever heard.

Regan’s chest heaves, a sudden and sharp intake of breath. His eyes, once vacant, now shimmer with life. But the price of this miracle is evident in the distance. Once powerful and intimidating, Theron now lays motionless, his life force extinguished.

Silence follows as the storm dissipates. The balance has been altered, the scales tipped, but as I scramble to Regan’s side and cradle him, every consequence seems worth it.

The horizon glows with the first hints of dawn, a quiet reminder that even after the harshest storm, the world finds a way to heal. But as I look around at the devastation—the uprooted trees, the flooded ground—I can’t shake the heaviness in my chest.

Theron’s body is proof of the lengths a father will go to save his child. My vision blurs with tears as I approach him. The burden of my choice, to exchange one life for another, seems almost unbearable, but living without Regan is an agony I could not imagine suffering.

Zeke’s hand finds mine, a warm and steady presence amid my inner turmoil. “He chose this,” he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly. “For Regan. For you. For the good of his people.”

I want to believe him, to find peace in his words, but every time I look at Theron’s lifeless form, guilt knots my insides. The choice was mine, and I ended a life because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone I loved. Though as I watch James struggling with hiding his emotions, I realize the pain of loss is someone else’s pain to bear because of me.

Lyon’s gaze is fixed on Regan, who is sitting with Gnash on the grass, all three wolves lying around him. They felt our anguish, and seeing Regan alive is a balm for our wounded souls. Yet, the absence of his father casts a shadow on what should’ve been a moment of pure relief. “We need to give him the farewell he deserves,” Lyon whispers.