Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 239: A Hero’s Call

Chapter 239: A Hero’s Call

Lady Maris gently pushed the door open and stepped into the chamber, her breath catching as she surveyed the scene before her. The recent spell seemed to have held—either that or the demon had decided to rest for a while.

The room was in disarray, just as Lisbeth had described. The once-pristine space now looked like a battleground, scattered with shards of broken items and fragments of shattered glass.

In the far corner, Florian huddled against the cold floor, curled into himself like a fragile, broken thing. His body trembled from the chill, his skin pale from both exhaustion and neglect. He wasn’t even wearing a proper coat, and the fireplace stood dark and cold.

Lady Maris’s heart broke at the sight. She approached him cautiously. As she crouched beside him, she gently lifted his arm, her fingers trembling as they traced the deep, jagged marks on his skin. Some of the wounds were so severe, they could have easily claimed his life.

Did he have second thoughts, she wondered, as he neared the edge? Or had it been the demon—holding him back from finishing what he’d started, its grip too strong, needing him alive until it could finally free itself from the boy’s body?

Tears welled up in Lady Maris’s eyes as she gazed down at him, consumed by a wave of sorrow so overwhelming it nearly crushed her chest.

Her breath hitched as she fought to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. How she longed to take his pain, to trade places with him, if only to spare him from this torment.

She should have known better, she thought bitterly. She should have trusted Emmanuelle’s warning. There had to have been a reason for her fear—why had she dismissed it so hastily? Had she been blinded by her own hopes, her own desires?

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make things right," she whispered softly. Gently, she placed his arm back in its resting position, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

With a heavy heart, she stood and slowly backed away, careful not to disturb him further. She made no sound as she left the chamber, aching with the desperate need to undo the damage she had caused.

***

Lady Maris returned to the witch’s cottage without informing anyone. Had she told the king, he would have insisted on accompanying her. If she had confided in Margrave Boris, he would have surely informed the king.

The witch, however, was pleased to see her alone. Though she had anticipated this outcome, there was always a sense of satisfaction in seeing her predictions come to life.

"Come in, my lady," the witch greeted warmly, her tone far friendlier than when Lady Maris had brought the king and margrave. "Please, sit. I’ve prepared a warm beverage for you."

Vampires typically avoided human food and drink, but recent advancements in magic and technology had made it possible for them to indulge without the usual discomfort. This was one such creation.

"It’s vampire’s tea," the witch explained, offering the cup with a knowing smile. "I made it myself, so it might taste a bit different from what you’re used to from the market."

"Thank you. I’ll have it later," Lady Maris said, setting the cup aside. She wasn’t in the mood for tea—not with so much weighing on her mind. The urgency of her visit left little room for simple pleasures.

The witch, perceptive as always, didn’t press her. She simply smiled, placing her hands on her knees and leaning forward slightly, ready to listen. "So, my lady," she said, "how may I help you?"

Lady Maris took a shaky breath. "How do I help him?" she asked, her voice trembling with desperation. "I’ll do anything. Please, I can’t bear to see him suffer like this."

The witch considered her words carefully, her lips pursing and smacking as if tasting the question itself. After a pause, she spoke bluntly: "We can’t help it that he’s naturally weak-minded."

The answer hit Lady Maris like a blow to the chest. She shifted uneasily in her seat, the weight of despair settling heavier on her shoulders. Was there truly no way to save him? Would she be forced to resort to black magic, knowing it could harm the king in the process?

The thought chilled her. Would she have to sacrifice her lover to save the boy? The conflict twisted in her heart, leaving her at a crossroads she didn’t want to face.

"He is, however, particularly strong-minded about one thing—one person," the witch added, softening the blow of her earlier statement.

Lady Maris didn’t need to ask who the witch meant. She knew. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the name aloud.

Riona. King Valentin’s beloved niece. He adored her almost as much as he cherished Amara—and there was no one in the world he loved more than Amara. Not even Lady Maris.

She knew that. She also knew King Valentin would never allow Riona to be drawn into this. It was the very reason he had separated Florian from his sister in the first place—to protect her from the darkness that plagued him.

"No," Lady Maris said firmly, shaking her head. "I can’t do that."

"You would be defying His Majesty’s orders, yes," the witch replied evenly. "But she is his only chance. The only one who can help him survive, to overcome the demon within. As I’ve said before, this is his battle—only he can fight it. No one else can stand in his place."

The words cut deep because Lady Maris knew they were true. Nothing she or King Valentin did could banish the demon tormenting Florian. They were powerless against it. Their only hope lay with Riona—the Blood Moon child.

"She can," the witch continued. "She wields the power of the Blood Moon. Her power transcends space, time, and even dimensions. She could reach into Florian’s mind, penetrate the darkness, and help him fight from within. She has the strength to defeat the demon. She is your only hope."

Lady Maris clenched her hands tightly, her mind spinning with the weight of the decision before her. The dilemma felt crushing, and though she knew time was slipping away, her heart ached with uncertainty. She had to act quickly—if she was going to move forward, she needed the witch’s guidance now.

"But... I can’t throw her into such peril," she said weakly, though her voice already carried the hint of defeat. Deep down, she was half-convinced, her mind drifting to an image of Riona as a hero, saving Florian from the curse that consumed him.

"Yes, of course. That is—if you don’t believe in her ability," the witch countered smoothly. "Tell me, has she ever lost a battle?"

The question lingered in the air, cutting through Lady Maris’s doubts. She thought back to her time with Riona. That girl, no, that warrior, had never lost—except to the king.

And even then, it had been more a matter of her heart than her strength. King Valentin had always been her only weakness. Riona’s defeats weren’t about power; they were about trauma.

The witch’s voice softened but carried weight. "Trust that she can, and she will."

Lady Maris drew a deep breath, her hands steadying as she made her choice. "Alright. I’ll ask for her help. How do I do that? Where do I find her?"

A slow, knowing smile spread across the witch’s face. This was the answer she had foreseen. Riona’s destiny was intertwined with the power of the Blood Moon—a gift bestowed upon her to stop the darkness her brother threatened to unleash. The witch had seen it all in her visions. Riona was the key.