Alexander woke to the bond pulsing warm in his chest.
Not his awareness. Hers.
Athelia was dreaming. He could feel it through the connection—chaotic images, fragments of wolves and barriers and impossible golden eyes. Terror mixed with wonder. Confusion laced with something that felt dangerously close to hope.
She was trying to make sense of what was happening to her.
Alexander lay in his chambers watching dawn light creep across the ceiling, reaching for the bond without meaning to. Not intrusive. Just... aware. Checking. Making sure she was safe even though she was an entire world away.
Her dream shifted. The wolf appeared—his wolf form, silver-grey and massive, golden eyes patient. She reached for him, and the bond flared hot between them.
Then she jerked awake. He felt the moment consciousness returned, felt her confusion spike as she tried to separate dream from reality. The connection was real. The impossible was becoming undeniable.
Alexander closed his eyes, sending calm through the bond. Reassurance without words. You're safe. I'm here. You're not going insane.
He wasn't sure if she could feel it. But he sent it anyway.
The door to his chambers opened without ceremony. Marcus walked in carrying two cups of something that smelled like strong tea and looked at Alexander with the expression of someone who'd already assessed the situation and found it concerning.
"You didn't sleep."
It wasn't a question.
Alexander sat up, accepting the cup Marcus offered. "Can't. I can feel her. She's dreaming. Confused. Terrified."
"The bond's that strong already?"
"Stronger every hour." Alexander took a drink. The tea was bitter, grounding. "She doesn't understand what's happening to her. Doesn't know what she is. And I'm stuck on this side of the barrier watching her spiral."
Marcus settled into the chair by the window, morning light catching the grey in his dark hair. His beta's instincts were probably screaming—Alexander could see it in the tension around his eyes, the careful way he was choosing words.
"The council is convening," Marcus said finally. "Emergency session. They're not happy about yesterday."
"The territorial dispute?"
"The harem." Marcus's voice was flat. "They're calling it 'erratic behavior brought on by curse-induced instability.'"
Alexander's hands tightened on the cup. "Of course they are."
"They'll try to manage you. Reinstall the controls." Marcus leaned forward. "Alexander, you need to understand—the harem wasn't just distraction. They were keeping you sedated. Spelled wine. Enchanted oils. Probably magic woven into the very act itself. Designed to keep you numb, compliant, too pleasure-drunk to ask questions."
The implications hit like a physical blow. Thirty years. Thirty years of being chemically, magically managed like a problem to be solved rather than a king to be served.
"How long have you known?"
"Suspected for years. Confirmed it last month when I had one of the wines analyzed." Marcus's jaw tightened. "Sedative properties that would make a lesser wolf sleep for days. You've been consuming it three times a week for three decades. The fact that you're functional at all is testament to your strength."
"And you said nothing."
"What would you have done with the information?" Marcus's eyes were steady. "You were too deep in the fog to fight it. I needed you awake first. Aware. Angry." He paused. "She woke you up. The bond burned through thirty years of chemical compliance in three days. Now you can actually do something about it."
Alexander wanted to be furious. Wanted to rage at Marcus for keeping secrets. But his beta was right. Three days ago, if Marcus had told him the council was drugging him, Alexander would have dismissed it as paranoia. Would have reached for another cup of spelled wine and let himself drift back into comfortable numbness.
But that was before Athelia touched the barrier. Before the bond snapped into place like a missing piece of his soul clicking home. Before he'd felt actual desire for the first time in decades and realized that everything else had been hollow imitation.
"They'll escalate," Alexander said.
"They'll try to drug you again. Send new 'companions' to manage you. Maybe even attempt magical compulsion if they're desperate enough." Marcus stood. "The council session is in an hour. They're going to push back. Hard."
"Let them try." Alexander set down his cup and rose. "I'm done being their puppet."
"There's my king." Marcus smiled, brief and sharp. "Get dressed. And Alexander? Don't drink anything they offer you."
---
The council chamber was already full when Alexander arrived.
Not unusual—the council loved their political theater, and gathering early to strategize before the king showed up was standard practice. What was unusual was the energy in the room. Tense. Almost frantic. Like they'd spent the entire night in emergency session and were now scrambling to present a united front.
Alexander walked to his throne at the head of the long table and every conversation stopped. Dozens of eyes tracked his movement. Assessing. Calculating. Afraid.
Good. They should be afraid.
Lady Vesper sat at the far end—Fae representative, ancient as the court itself, with eyes that had seen centuries of manipulation and called it statecraft. She inclined her head in greeting, the gesture just barely respectful enough to avoid insult.
Lord Theron, the centaur, stood by the windows. His massive frame radiated disapproval. Beside him, Chancellor Maris shuffled papers with the nervous energy of someone preparing a legal argument they weren't confident would hold.
High Priestess Selene was there too. She'd been dismissed from the harem yesterday, but somehow she'd earned a seat at the council table overnight. Interesting. The council was already filling the gap Alexander had created, installing new management systems before the old ones had even finished packing.
Lord Commander Vex, the military representative, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. He met Alexander's eyes briefly and there was something in his expression—not quite sympathy, but perhaps understanding. A soldier recognizing another soldier who'd just realized he'd been fighting the wrong war.
Erikson took his position behind Alexander's throne. Silent. Watchful. Every inch the loyal guard. No one looking at him would know he'd spent thirty years filing false reports and waiting for this exact moment.
Marcus stood to Alexander's right, beta's position, making his allegiance clear.
"Your Majesty." Chancellor Maris stood, papers clutched like a shield. "Thank you for joining us on such short notice. We felt it necessary to discuss recent... developments."
"The territorial dispute?" Alexander kept his voice mild. "I thought it was resolved quite efficiently."
A ripple of discomfort around the table.
"Not the dispute, Your Majesty." Lady Vesper's voice was silk over steel. "The dismissal. The harem has served the crown for thirty years. Their sudden removal has created... complications."
"Complications for whom?"
"For the stability of the realm." Theron stepped forward, hooves loud on the stone floor. "Your behavior has become erratic. The harem provided essential support during this difficult time."
Alexander let the word hang in the air. Support. Interesting euphemism for systematic sedation.
"The harem," he said carefully, "was serving the council's interests. Not mine. Their removal was not erratic. It was overdue."
"Your Majesty—" Chancellor Maris tried.
"The harem was installed by this council thirty years ago. Without my request. Without my consent. Presented as a gift when it was actually a management system." Alexander stood, and his wolf rose with him—not threatening, just present. Reminding them what he was beneath the careful political theater. "How long did you think you could keep me docile before I noticed?"
The silence was deafening.
Lady Vesper recovered first. "The council serves the crown, Your Majesty. Everything we do is for the good of the realm."
"Then explain why the wine you've been serving me for thirty years contains sedative magic strong enough to incapacitate a lesser wolf."
Another silence. Heavier this time.
Chancellor Maris's papers rustled. "I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding—"
"There's no misunderstanding." Alexander's voice cut through the room like a blade. "You've been drugging me. Managing me. Keeping me just functional enough to perform ceremonial duties while you ran the realm. And the moment I actually exercise authority—solve a two-hundred-year-old territorial dispute in five minutes—you panic and convene an emergency session to reinstall your control mechanisms."
"The curse has clearly affected Your Majesty's judgment," Lord Theron said. His tone was carefully sympathetic, the voice of someone addressing a sick patient. "Perhaps rest would—"
"Finish that sentence carefully, Theron."
The centaur's jaw snapped shut.
Alexander looked around the table, seeing them clearly for the first time in decades. Not advisors. Not servants of the crown. Custodians of a system that required him to be decorative and manageable.
"The harem stays dismissed," he said. "And I'll be reviewing every 'gift' this council has provided over the last thirty years. If I find more attempts at magical or chemical management, the people responsible will answer for it."
Lady Vesper's eyes narrowed. "Your Majesty, perhaps you would benefit from additional counsel during this difficult time. We could arrange for experienced advisors—"
"I have Marcus. I have Lord Erikson. What more counsel do I need?"
The look that passed between council members was telling. They didn't trust Erikson. Had probably suspected for years that he was filing false reports, but couldn't prove it and couldn't remove him without revealing their own manipulation.
"Of course, Your Majesty." Chancellor Maris's smile didn't reach his eyes. "We simply want to ensure you have all necessary support as you navigate the curse's progression."
"The curse," Alexander repeated slowly. "You mean the curse you've been using as justification for three decades of systematic control? The curse that conveniently requires me to be managed for my own safety?"
"Your Majesty—"
The doors to the council chamber slammed open.
Every head turned. Guards scrambled. Erikson's hand went to his sword.
A man stood in the doorway. Tall, elegant, with dark hair and eyes that looked ancient despite a face that appeared perhaps late forties. He wore robes that were fine but understated, and he carried himself with the quiet authority of someone who'd walked through royal courts for longer than most of them had been alive.
Alexander had never seen him before.
"Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty." The stranger bowed—respectful but not subservient. "I know you don't know me. I've been away from court for many years. But recent events compelled my return."
Alexander's wolf stirred, assessing. Dangerous. Powerful. Old. But not immediately threatening.
"Who are you?"
"Lord Issac Wavelander. Scholar of the curse." The man—Issac—straightened. "I have information about the barrier disturbance three nights ago. Information I believe you'll find... enlightening."
The council erupted in protest. Chancellor Maris shot to his feet. "This is highly irregular—"
"Be quiet." Alexander didn't raise his voice, but the command in it silenced the room. To Issac: "What information?"
Issac walked forward with measured steps, ignoring the council's hostility. "Three nights ago, the barrier rippled. Someone touched it from the other side. Someone with royal magic." He paused. "Someone with her bloodline."
The bond pulsed in Alexander's chest. Athelia. He was talking about Athelia.
"How do you know this?"
"I've been studying the curse for decades, Your Majesty. Documenting its patterns. Tracking the lost queen's bloodline through the human world. Waiting for the moment when the magic would resurface." Issac's expression was earnest, almost guilty. "I should have come forward years ago. Should have warned your father, your grandfather, that the council was working against you. But I was a coward. I watched and documented and did nothing while they turned kings into puppets."
Lady Vesper stood. "Your Majesty, this man is making serious accusations without evidence—"
"Evidence?" Issac pulled a leather folder from his robes and set it on the table. "I have three decades of evidence. Reports of how the council systematically isolated each Wolf King. Documentation of the spells woven into your wine, your food, your bedding. Records of potential heirs in the human world who died mysteriously before they could reach the barrier." He looked at Alexander. "They don't want the curse broken, Your Majesty. Breaking the curse means a true queen returns. A queen they can't control. Right now they have a puppet king. Why would they want that to change?"
The words hit like hammer blows. Not because they were shocking—Alexander had already suspected as much—but because hearing them spoken aloud, with evidence, made them undeniable.
Marcus moved to the table and opened the folder. His expression darkened as he read.
"This is treason," Lord Commander Vex said quietly. He wasn't looking at Issac. He was looking at the council. "If even half of this is true—"
"It's fabrication," Chancellor Maris snapped. "A stranger walks into the council chamber making wild accusations—"
"I can prove everything in that folder." Issac's voice stayed level. "I have Ventari documentation. Records that can't be forged. Testimony from sources the council doesn't know exist." He turned back to Alexander. "But that's not why I'm here. I'm here because the heir has surfaced. Your mate is waking. And if you don't act now, the council will kill her like they killed all the others."
Silence crashed through the chamber.
"You're claiming," Lady Vesper said coldly, "that this council has committed murder."
"I'm stating a documented fact." Issac met her eyes without flinching. "Twenty-three potential heirs over three hundred years. All dead before they reached the barrier. All in ways that looked like accidents or natural causes. All investigated by council-appointed officials who found nothing suspicious."
Alexander's hands clenched on the arms of his throne. "Twenty-three."
"That I could document. There may be more."
The bond pulsed. Athelia, still dreaming, still confused, completely unaware that there were forces in this realm who would kill her rather than let her cross.
"This is absurd," Theron growled. "Your Majesty, surely you don't believe—"
"Get out."
The centaur blinked. "Your Majesty?"
"All of you. Get out of my council chamber." Alexander stood. "Lord Erikson, Lord Commander Vex, Marcus—you stay. Everyone else has one minute to leave before I start treating you as the traitors you are."
"Your Majesty, you can't—"
"Fifty seconds."
They left. Some quickly, scrambling for the doors. Others with cold dignity, making it clear this wasn't over. Lady Vesper was last, pausing at the threshold to deliver one final warning.
"You're making a mistake, Your Majesty. One you'll regret."
"The only thing I regret is not making it thirty years ago."
She left. The doors closed. Alexander stood in the suddenly quiet chamber with Marcus, Erikson, Vex, and Issac Wavelander—a stranger who'd just blown apart his entire understanding of the council's treachery.
Lord Commander Vex spoke first. "If what he's saying is true—"
"It's true," Erikson said quietly. "I've been documenting the same patterns. I just didn't have proof of the murders."
Alexander looked at Issac. Really looked at him. The ancient eyes. The careful way he held himself. The power that hummed beneath his skin.
"Why help now?" Alexander asked. "If you've been watching for decades, why reveal yourself today?"
"Because watching isn't enough anymore." Issac's expression was genuinely pained. "I told myself I was gathering evidence, building a case, waiting for the right moment. But the truth is I was a coward. I watched your father walk into the sea. Watched the council manipulate your grandfather into isolated madness. I documented their crimes and did nothing." He paused. "I won't fail you the way I failed them. Your mate is alive. Awake. And the council will move against her. I can help you protect her. If you'll trust me."
"Trust is earned," Marcus said flatly. "Not given because someone shows up with convenient information at a convenient time."
"Agreed." Issac inclined his head. "Which is why I'm offering resources, not asking for power. Documents, intelligence, strategic advice—use them or don't. But I needed you to know the truth. The curse can be broken. The heir exists. And the council will kill her if you wait for her to come to you."
The bond pulsed. Athelia was waking in the human world. Probably terrified. Definitely confused. Completely unaware that her life was in danger.
"What do you suggest?" Alexander asked.
Before Issac could answer, the sound of massive wings filled the courtyard outside. Guards shouted. Something roared—deep, primal, the sound of a creature that could level cities if provoked.
Lord Commander Vex moved to the window. "Dragon."
Alexander was already moving. He knew that roar. Had heard it once before, decades ago, when a young dragon had visited his father's court and made it very clear that dragons answered to no one's authority but their own.
The courtyard was chaos. Guards scrambling. Servants fleeing. And in the center, massive beyond comprehension—
A blue dragon.
Not the silver-grey of northern peaks or deep emerald of forest clans. This dragon was MASSIVE—easily filling the entire courtyard, wings that could shadow half the palace, scales the deep blue-black of storm clouds over ocean. Lightning crackled between his scales. The air around him was thick with moisture, ozone-sharp, as if the sky itself had descended to walk among them. Storm and water magic rolled off him in waves that made guards stagger back.
Nodran.
The dragon's head swung toward Alexander as he emerged from the council chamber. Eyes the color of lightning—ancient, electric, sharp with intelligence that made most beings uncomfortable—locked onto him.
Then the dragon shifted.
The transformation was instantaneous. One moment, a creature so massive it blocked out the sun. The next, a man—tall, dark-haired with storm-grey streaks, wearing armor that seemed to be made from dragon scales the color of deep water, crackling with residual lightning.
Nodran walked forward with the kind of confidence that came from being the apex predator in any room. He ignored the guards, the council members who'd rushed out to see the commotion, everyone except Alexander.
"I felt it," the man said without preamble. "Three nights ago. The bond activated."
Alexander descended the steps, recognizing the presence if not the face. "You felt it? From where?"
"From the other side of the realm. Guardian bonds echo through dragon magic. Storm-riders feel it in the currents, the way lightning knows where to strike. It's unmistakable." Lightning-colored eyes—the same as the dragon's—searched his face. "Your mate is waking, Alexander."
Chancellor Maris appeared in the doorway, still trying to control the situation. "Lord Nodran, perhaps this conversation should happen in private—"
Nodran didn't even look at him. "I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to my king." Back to Alexander: "Where is she?"
"The other side of the barrier. Human world."
Nodran's expression shifted—surprise, then understanding. "The bloodline survived there. Of course it did." He paused, processing. "Have you reached her?"
"Only through the bond. She doesn't understand what's happening."
"Then we need to help her understand. Before—" Nodran's gaze swept the council members gathering in the courtyard, "—before certain parties try to stop this."
Lady Vesper's voice cut through the murmurs. "The council serves the crown, Lord Nodran. We would never—"
Nodran laughed. It was harsh, sharp, utterly lacking in humor. "You've been sedating him for thirty years. Drugging his wine. Spelling his bedding. Managing him like a problem instead of a king. Don't insult my intelligence by pretending you serve anything but your own power."
The courtyard went silent.
Dragons didn't involve themselves in politics. Dragons didn't take sides. Dragons certainly didn't publicly accuse royal councils of systematic treason.
Except this one just had.
"These are serious accusations," Chancellor Maris said, but his voice lacked conviction. "Without evidence—"
"There's evidence." Issac had followed Alexander out and now stood at the top of the steps, holding the leather folder. "Three decades of documentation. And if you'd like, I can arrange for Ventari judges to review it. Their truth-sight makes lying rather difficult."
The threat hung in the air. Ventari judges—first order cosmic beings who could perceive truth as fundamental law. If the case went before them, the council's manipulations would be laid bare.
Lady Vesper's expression could have frozen fire. "This is not over."
"No," Alexander agreed. "It's not. But from this moment forward, the council answers to me. Not the other way around. And the first order I'm giving is this: no one approaches the barrier. No one crosses to the human world. And if anything happens to the heir—if she suffers so much as a stubbed toe that looks suspicious—I will hold every member of this council personally responsible."
He let his wolf rise to the surface. Let them see the predator beneath the careful political mask they'd grown comfortable with.
"Do I make myself clear?"
Silence. Then, reluctant nods.
"Good. Now get out of my sight."
They dispersed. Slowly, with lingering looks that promised future confrontation, but they dispersed.
Nodran watched them go, then turned back to Alexander. "We need to talk. Privately. Now."
---
Alexander's study was warded six ways from solstice. Erikson had checked the protections personally, and even then, he swept the room for listening spells before nodding his approval.
Present: Alexander, Nodran, Marcus, Erikson, Lord Commander Vex, and Issac Wavelander.
An odd collection. A king, a dragon, a beta wolf, a guard who'd spent thirty years as a double agent, a military commander who looked like he was regretting every decision that had led him here, and a mysterious scholar with suspiciously convenient timing.
Nodran paced the room like the predator he was. "The bond is active. That means she's strong enough to cross. But she doesn't know what she is, does she?"
"No." Alexander stood by the window, one hand pressed to his chest where the bond pulsed with Athelia's waking awareness. "The bond activated three days ago. She's terrified and confused and has no context for any of this."
"Then you need to teach her. Prepare her. Help her understand before the council sends someone to silence her."
"Send someone?" Alexander turned. "To the human world?"
Marcus's expression was grim. "They've done it before. I found references in the archives. 'Incidents' when potential heirs surfaced. All died before reaching the barrier."
Issac nodded. "Twenty-three documented cases. Possibly more. The council has been systematically eliminating threats to their power structure for three centuries."
The implications were staggering. Not just manipulation. Not just sedation. Active murder of innocent people whose only crime was being born with royal magic.
"If they know she exists," Erikson said quietly, "they'll move soon. Probably within days."
"So we move first." Nodran stopped pacing and looked at Alexander. "You cross to her world. Protect her. Teach her. Bring her here when she's ready."
"I can't cross to her world. I'm the Guardian. I'm bound to this side."
Nodran smiled. It was sharp, predatory, and utterly confident. "You're the Guardian. Which means you have authority over the barrier itself. You can cross if you choose to. Your father could have. Your grandfather. They just never tried."
The words hung in the air like a revelation.
"The Guardian bond," Nodran continued, "isn't a cage. It's a key. You're not bound to this side—you're bound to the barrier's integrity. You can pass through it. The barrier will recognize your authority and allow passage."
"If I leave," Alexander said slowly, "who maintains the Guardian bond?"
"The bond maintains itself. You're not a battery—you're a key. The barrier will hold while you're gone." Nodran's expression was serious. "Unless you're planning to stay in the human world for years, the risk is manageable."
Lord Commander Vex cleared his throat. "If you leave, Your Majesty, the council will try to seize control. They'll claim you've abandoned your duties, call for a regency—"
"Let them try." Erikson's hand rested on his sword. "Between Marcus and me, we can hold the realm for a few weeks. And if they push too hard—" He glanced at Nodran.
"I'll remind them that dragons don't take kindly to traitors," Nodran finished. "Violently, if necessary."
Issac had been quiet, watching the conversation unfold. Now he spoke. "If I may offer a suggestion?"
Everyone turned to look at him. The stranger. The scholar who'd appeared at exactly the right moment with exactly the right information.
"You don't trust me," Issac said calmly. "You shouldn't. Not yet. But I've been preparing for this moment for a very long time. I can help."
"How?" Marcus's tone was flat, suspicious.
"I can create a cover identity for you. Human credentials that will verify. Documentation, background, a reason to be near her that won't seem suspicious." Issac pulled a folder from his bag. "She's a law student, yes? Studying governance and sovereignty?"
Alexander nodded slowly. The bond had given him fragments—images of lecture halls, legal textbooks, her frustration at not understanding material that now seemed to flow like water.
"Then you're a visiting professor." Issac opened the folder, revealing documents that looked official, comprehensive, and impossible. "Comparative constitutional law. Historical governance structures. Oxford University. Here to research how different legal systems handle questions of sovereignty and jurisdictional claims."
He spread the papers across Alexander's desk. Faculty identification. Publication records. A curriculum vitae that detailed a career spanning decades.
"Professor Elias Hartwood," Issac said. "Specialist in constitutional frameworks and the legal implications of royal succession. It's the perfect cover. You'll be teaching her law—which is exactly what she needs to learn if she's going to navigate the political nightmare of reclaiming a throne after three hundred years."
It was brilliant. Suspiciously brilliant.
"How do you have this ready?" Erikson asked the question Alexander was thinking.
"Because I've been planning for this moment since your grandfather's reign." Issac met Erikson's suspicious gaze steadily. "I told you—I failed your predecessors by watching and documenting instead of acting. I won't fail you. I've prepared resources, identities, intelligence networks. Use them or don't. But they're here if you need them."
Marcus picked up one of the documents. Studied it. "These credentials will actually verify? Human universities check these things."
"They'll verify. I have... connections... in the human world. Academic institutions that owe me favors. Oxford will confirm Professor Hartwood's employment if anyone checks."
"How?" Alexander asked.
Issac smiled slightly. "I'm very old, Your Majesty. And I've spent a great deal of that time building resources in both worlds. Strategic investments, if you will."
He reached into his bag again, this time pulling out a small wooden box. Ancient, by the look of it—dark wood worn smooth with age, hinges that looked like they'd been forged centuries ago.
"There's something else." Issac opened the box carefully. Inside, nestled in velvet, were two amulets. Silver, tarnished with time, each engraved with symbols that made Alexander's Guardian magic stir in recognition. "Renaldo entrusted these to me. Years ago, before he fully ascended into his current role."
The room went quiet. Renaldo's name carried weight—the dragon who'd given extended life to chosen allies, who saw patterns across centuries, who moved with purpose that often wasn't clear until long after.
"What are they?" Alexander asked.
"Passage tokens." Issac lifted one of the amulets—a wolf engraved in the center, belly exposed in submission. "Renaldo said when the heir surfaced, these would allow safe crossing between worlds. The barrier recognizes them. Permits passage to those who wear them."
He held out the box to Alexander. "Wear yours, and you can cross to her world without destabilizing the barrier. It will protect you, shield your nature from human detection, allow you to exist there as long as needed. When the time comes, give her the second. Once she wears it, she'll be able to cross here safely."
Alexander took one of the amulets. It was warm in his palm, humming with quiet power that felt... old. Ancient. Like it had been waiting for this exact moment.
"You'll need to be the one to give it to her," Issac said. "The amulets are bonded to Guardian magic. They'll only work if you present hers to her directly. A transfer of authority, in a sense."
Alexander slipped the chain over his head. The amulet settled against his chest, warm and certain, and something clicked into place. Not the bond—that was already there, pulsing steadily. But a new awareness. A sense of the barrier itself recognizing him differently. Granting permission.
"It works," he said quietly.
"They always do." Issac closed the now half-empty box and handed it to Alexander. "Keep hers safe. When you're ready to bring her here, she'll need it."
Alexander stood in his study, the amulet warm against his chest, the box containing hers held carefully in his hands. Around him: Marcus, his brother in all but blood. Erikson, the guard who'd been waiting thirty years for this moment. Nodran, the dragon who'd felt the bond activate from across the realm. Issac, the scholar with resources that seemed impossibly vast and suspiciously convenient.
An unlikely war council. Assembled in a single day. United by a single purpose.
The bond pulsed in his chest. Athelia, somewhere in the human world, unaware that everything was about to change. Unaware that he was coming for her. Unaware that the council would kill her if he didn't move first.
Alexander looked down at the amulet. Felt the barrier recognize him. Grant him permission to cross.
"When?" Marcus asked quietly.
Alexander met his beta's eyes. Then Erikson's. Nodran's. Finally, Issac's ancient, calculating gaze.
"Tonight," he said. "Before the council realizes what I'm planning. Before they send someone to kill her. Tonight."
The amulet pulsed warm. Like agreement. Like promise.
Like: It's time.