Chapter Nine: The Price of Forever
When dawn came, it was gray and heavy.
Rain veiled the moors, washing away the crimson glow that had hung over the world only hours before.
Elara woke in Lucien's chamber. The air smelled faintly of iron and roses. The candles had burned to puddles of wax, and Lucien sat near the window, staring into the mist.
The aftermath
"How long was I asleep?" she asked softly.
"Since the moon fell," he replied. His voice was calm, but his eyes looked… older. "You shouldn't be awake yet."
"I feel fine."
Lucien turned toward her. "You shouldn't. The ritual changed you. Your pulse is slower, your scent—different."
"Am I like you now?"
"No," he said quickly. "You're still human. But part of my essence lingers in you. It will keep you alive far longer than any mortal should live."
Elara's stomach tightened. "So this is the price of forever."
He didn't deny it.
The warning
A knock echoed at the door. Lucien was on his feet in an instant. Through the heavy wood came a voice, thin and trembling:
"The Council has sent for you, my lord. They demand judgment."
Elara's eyes widened. "The Council?"
Lucien's expression hardened. "The rulers of our kind. Darius has already spoken to them."
"Then we should leave. Now."
"No. Running would only confirm our guilt. I'll face them—and whatever they decide."
"You're not facing them alone."
He gave her a look that was both pained and protective. "You don't understand, Elara. They'll see what you are now. Half-human, half-bound. They'll see you as an abomination."
"Then let them," she said. "They can't erase us anymore."
The journey to the catacombs
By nightfall, they were led through the rain to the catacombs beneath Blackthorn Hall—ancient tunnels lined with bones and flickering torches. At the far end, the Council waited: seven figures cloaked in shadow, eyes like cold stars.
Darius stood beside them, silent but triumphant.
"Lucien Vale," the central figure intoned, "you have broken the law of blood by binding yourself to a mortal. The penalty is death."
Elara stepped forward before Lucien could answer. "It wasn't his doing. I chose this."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"The human speaks," one whispered. "And carries the mark."
"Impossible," said another. "No mortal can survive the bond."
Lucien took her hand, raising it so the crimson sigil glowed faintly in the dim light. "She did."
The bargain
The eldest Councilor's gaze sharpened. "Perhaps fate has chosen differently than our laws. The bond cannot be undone—but it can be tested."
"Tested how?" Lucien asked.
"Blood answers blood. If her heart beats in darkness, she will remain in your world. If it fades at dawn, she returns to hers—and your bond breaks with her life."
Elara felt her breath catch. "You're saying I have to die to prove I belong?"
"Not die," said the Councilor. "Decide."
The torches flared higher. Lucien's hand tightened around hers, his voice raw.
"If you choose my world, you'll lose the sun. You'll forget warmth, color, time. You'll be like me."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll lose you forever."
The chamber filled with silence, and in the cold between their heartbeats, the choice began to take shape—a choice between eternity and the fragile light of morning.