The hut was small, but the inside was impossibly large. The ceiling stretched up into shadows, filled with hanging bundles of dried herbs, bones, and shimmering crystals. The air smelled of sage and... ozone. Like a storm trapped in a bottle.
In the center of the room sat a woman.
She wasn't the crone I expected. She looked young, her skin unlined and glowing like moonlight, but her eyes were ancient. They held the weight of centuries.
"So," she said, her voice melodic and sharp. "The Wolf King and his little vessel made it through my woods."
She didn't look up from the cauldron she was stirring. "Did you enjoy the walk?"
"We didn't come for small talk," Killian said, stepping forward, keeping me tucked behind him. "We came for a cure."
"A cure?" The Witch laughed. She stood up, and her shadow stretched long and distorted against the wall. "There is no cure for what you carry, Elena Vance. It is not a disease. It is a destiny."
My breath hitched. "You know my name?"
"I know the names of all mothers who walk into the dark for their children," she said softly. She walked over to me, her gaze dropping to my stomach.
"Two souls," she murmured, reaching out a hand but stopping inches from my dress. "One Light. One Dark. The prophecy is true. If left alone, the Dark one will consume the Light before they draw their first breath."
"We know the problem," Killian growled, impatient. "Give us the solution. The Archives said Queen Lysandra sacrificed her wolf. If that is the price, take mine. Take my wolf right now."
The Witch looked at him, amused.
"Always so eager to be the hero, Alpha," she tutted. "But Queen Lysandra's method was... crude. It left her weak. And her son, the survivor, grew up without a mother's protection."
She walked back to her table and picked up a jagged, black crystal.
"There is another way. A better way. But the price is higher."
"Name it," Killian said instantly.
"To save both children," the Witch explained, turning the crystal in her fingers, "You do not need to kill the Dark soul. You need to dilute it. You need a vessel to absorb the excess Rage and Darkness from the infant until he is strong enough to control it himself."
She looked at us.
"One of you must become the Anchor. For the next eighteen years, you will be spiritually tethered to the Dark twin. Every time he feels rage, you will feel it. Every time his darkness tries to take over, it will flow into you."
She paused, her eyes narrowing.
"It will be agonizing. It will feel like burning alive, randomly, day or night. It will drain your life force. It might drive you mad."
The room fell silent.
"I'll do it," I said.
"I'll do it," Killian said at the exact same time.
We looked at each other.
"No," Killian said firmly, turning to me. "You are already carrying them. You are too fragile. I am the Alpha. I am strong enough to take the pain."
"You're the King!" I argued, grabbing his arm. "You have to lead the pack. You can't be distracted by random agony! I'm the mother. It's my job to carry their burdens."
"Elena, I will not let you suffer!" Killian roared, his eyes flashing gold. "I failed to protect you from your family. I failed to protect you from the world. I will not fail to protect you from this!"
"And I won't let you destroy yourself!" I shouted back, tears streaming down my face. "They need a father, Killian! A strong father, not a broken one!"
"Stop it!" The Witch slammed her hand on the table. Bang.
We both froze.
The Witch was looking at us with an expression I couldn't read. Annoyance? Or was it... respect?
"In three hundred years," she said quietly, "I have seen mates push each other into the fire to save themselves. I have never seen two idiots fight over who gets to burn."
She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.
"You passed the second test," she declared.
"Test?" Killian scowled. "This isn't a game."
"Magic is all about intent," the Witch said. "The ritual requires a willing sacrifice. If you had hesitated, if you had tried to push it on each other... it would have failed."
She placed the black crystal on the table.
"The Anchor will be Killian," she decided.
"Good," Killian nodded, relief washing over his face.
"But!" The Witch raised a finger. "To perform the binding ritual, I need an ingredient that I do not possess. It is the catalyst for the spell."
"What is it?" I asked.
"The Heart of the Frozen Mountain," she said. "A flower that blooms only in the deepest ice cave on the Northern Peak. It is guarded by a Beast that does not bleed."
She looked at Killian.
"You want to be the Anchor? Fine. But first, you must prove you can survive the cold. Go get me the flower."
Killian looked at the map she tossed him. The Northern Peak. It was miles away, treacherous and deadly.
"I'll get it," he vowed.
"We," I corrected, taking his hand.
Killian looked at me to argue, but I squeezed his hand tight.
"You are the Anchor," I said firmly. "But I am the Compass. Where you go, I go."
Killian stared at me, the fight draining out of him, replaced by overwhelming love. He kissed my forehead, a silent promise.
"Then we go together," he said.
The Witch watched us leave, her eyes gleaming.
"Bring it back before the full moon," she called out. "Or the cradle will be a coffin."