Chapter 374 - 108: Symbol of Authority

The wait inside the temple grew suffocating.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the heavy iron sconces against the stone walls. Henrik returned from the perimeter, his cloak damp with mist. He gave Dane a brief, tight nod. The valley was quiet for now, but the silence felt less like safety and more like a breath held before a blow.

Destiny sat on a wooden bench near the sanctuary door, her knees pulled toward her chest. Marcus stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. He didn’t speak, but his firm grip grounded her while Vance stood by the arched window, cold and unmoving, staring out into the dark like a statue carved from granite.

Two hours passed. Then three. The royal rider from Silvercrest had not returned.

Inside the chamber, a low, wet gasp cut through the quiet.

Destiny stood up instantly. Vance turned from the window, his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line. He didn’t look like a grieving father; he looked like a king calculating a loss.

Aurora was moving. The herbal sedation hadn’t worn off naturally. Her body was burning through it. Her back arched off the stone cot, her fingers clawing at the rough linen sheets. The black, webbed lines of the curse were no longer creeping; they were throbbing, rising against her skin like dark cords. Under her trembling eyelids, her eyes flickered wide, glowing a harsh, fiery yellow.

"She’s burning up," the priestess said, her voice strained as she pressed a damp cloth to Aurora’s forehead. The cloth hissed, steam rising from the contact. "The herbs aren’t stopping it anymore. The curse is forcing the shift."

"Fix it," Vance commanded, his tone sharp and devoid of warmth. "Or cut the infection out before it takes her completely."

"She won’t survive a cut, Your Majesty!" the priestess shot back. "Her body is warring with itself!"

A choked, inhuman growl tore from Aurora’s throat. A wave of heat radiated off the cot, throwing warm, metallic-smelling air across the room.

Vance turned his gaze toward Destiny, his eyes narrow and calculating. "We aren’t waiting for the records anymore. Draw your blood. Put it on the stone."

Destiny’s chest tightened. "We don’t know if it will save her or destroy her."

"If she dies, she dies," Vance said coldly, stepping closer to Destiny. "But we will not let the curse take a child of Silvercrest while we stand around guessing. Draw the blood, Destiny. Now."

His utter lack of hesitation chilled Destiny to the bone, but looking at Aurora writhing in agony, she knew they had run out of time.

"Get the Heart Stone," Destiny said softly.

Dane moved immediately, gesturing to Henrik, who lifted the heavy velvet cloth covering the ancient relic on the corner pedestal. The dark stone hummed with a low, vibrating warmth as Henrik brought it to the bedside.

The priestess drew a small silver blade. Destiny held out her hand, her palm turned upward. The cut was quick and sharp. A line of deep red pooled in her palm, and Destiny pressed her bloodied hand directly onto the cold surface of the Heart Stone.

Instantly, the stone woke up. A pulse of deep, crimson light flared from its core, humming through Destiny’s arm.

"Put it on her," Destiny gasped, her breath catching.

The priestess picked up the glowing stone and laid it gently onto Aurora’s bare chest, right over her heart.

Aurora screamed, a sharp, agonized sound that echoed off the high rafters. The Heart Stone flared violently, sending jagged, silver-white veins of light shooting across her chest. Where the light touched her skin, the black lines of the curse snapped back like burnt threads.

The magic didn’t just touch Aurora. It reacted to Destiny.

A violent, localized gust of wind erupted from the stone, sweeping outward across the chamber. It knocked silver bowls to the floor with a loud clatter and caught Destiny’s dark hair, whipping it wildly around her head and shoulders.

Destiny raised a hand to shield her eyes, pulling her collar back as the force of the blast blew those full hair away from the side of her neck, strands she habitually kept swept forward to cover her skin.

The harsh silver light from the Heart Stone illuminated her exposed throat.

Vance froze mid-stride.

His eyes, cold and sharp a second ago, locked onto the right side of Destiny’s neck. All the color drained from the Lycan King’s face.

Marcus noticed the sudden change in Vance’s posture and stepped forward, his hand dropping toward his weapon. "Vance?"

Vance didn’t hear him. He took a slow, staggering step toward Destiny, his composure completely shattering. His eyes were wide, fixed entirely on her skin.

Destiny tried to pull her hair back over her neck, but Vance reached out. Before anyone could stop him, his fingers brushed against the side of her throat, gently tilting her chin up to catch the light.

There, exposed against her pale skin, was a small, dark mark, a perfectly formed crescent moon.

Vance gasped, a harsh, ragged sound of total shock.

He recoiled so fast he stumbled backward, his hand flying to his own mouth as if he had just touched fire. He hit the edge of the stone table, rattling the instruments, his chest heaving as if he couldn’t get air into his lungs.

"Your Majesty?" Dane demanded, stepping between Vance and Destiny, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "What are you doing?"

Vance didn’t answer Dane. He couldn’t take his eyes off Destiny. He looked from the crescent mark on her neck, to the glowing Heart Stone, and then up to her face, his bloodshot eyes filled with a terrifying, overwhelming realization.

Destiny stood frozen, her bloodied hand resting against her chest, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs under the crushing weight of his stare.

"That mark..." Vance whispered, his voice cracking, stripped of all royal authority.

He didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t. He just stood there staring at Destiny as if the ground beneath their feet had split wide open.