The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond
Chapter 111: The Pact’s Price

Chapter 111: The Pact’s Price

"You summoned me."

Rhett didn’t bow. "You owe me answers."

The Elder arched a brow, amused. "Do I?"

Rhett’s voice was low, dangerous. "You come into my territory, threaten my mate, poison my sister’s mind, and drag the weight of some ancient prophecy onto our doorstep, and you expect me to stand aside?"

The Elder Alpha circled slowly, his boots tapping against the polished marble. "You misunderstand, son. I am not here for conquest."

"Then why are you here?" Rhett spat. "Why Camille? Why now?"

The Elder stopped directly before him, their eyes locking. "Because time is running out."

"For what?"

"For survival."

Rhett clenched his jaw, barely restraining the fury crawling under his skin. "Enough riddles. You say she’s a vessel. I say you’re using her. If you believe you’re going to sacrifice my sister for your delusions, you’ll find me far less accommodating."

The Elder’s smile was slow and cold. "Delusions? You know nothing of what festers beneath our world. You’ve spent your reign playing politics, marrying for alliances, keeping enemies close. But you have not looked beyond the skin of things."

"I’ve seen enough," Rhett snapped.

"No," his father countered. "You haven’t. You never saw the truth behind your mother’s death, did you?"

Rhett flinched, but the Elder pressed forward, voice lowering. "Your mother was the last bearer of the Ash Blood before Camille. And she was hunted. Not by rogues. Not by enemies. By allies."

"Lies," Rhett hissed.

"Is it? You think your council elders remain loyal to you? You think the Alpha Syndicates support you? They fear you, Rhett. But they fear the old bloodlines even more. They feared your mother’s child would awaken the Ash Line prophecy."

Rhett shook his head. "Camille was never supposed to inherit any of this."

"She was born for it."

The Elder’s voice grew intense, like gravel dragged across stone.

"She carries the last strain of the Ash Blood. Her existence bridges the two broken lines of the Alpha Kings, ours and the Eastern blood. With her, the two rival lines can be united. Do you understand what that means?"

Rhett’s pulse thundered. "The war would end."

The Elder nodded. "Not just end. The Ash Child would be born anew. A being of such dominance, no pack, no rogue, no rebellion could challenge its rule. No more faction wars. No more blood spilled for territory."

"At what cost?" Rhett demanded.

The Elder stepped closer, voice softening as if offering a gift. "At the cost of one vessel."

"Camille is not a vessel!"

The walls seemed to absorb the echo of his shout.

The Elder Alpha studied his son, head tilted. "You forget your place."

Rhett’s voice dropped, trembling with rage. "And you forget yours. You’re standing in my house. This is my territory."

The Elder sighed, as though speaking to a child who failed to grasp simple arithmetic. "If you deny this, you sentence us to extinction. You’ve seen the fractures spreading across the territories. Our enemies gather like wolves at the gate. The Eastern packs are already breeding warborn hybrids. If we do not match their power, "

"We won’t become them," Rhett cut in. "I won’t trade my sister’s life for political stability."

The Elder’s eyes hardened. "Then you will lose everything."

A thick silence followed.

The flicker of the torches hissed like serpents in the air between them.

Rhett’s breathing slowed. His fists trembled at his sides.

The Elder’s voice lowered, final and cold. "The pact has already begun, whether you accept it or not. You have three days left to hand her over. After that, I will take what’s owed."

Rhett stepped forward, close enough now that their breath mingled.

"If you touch her," he said, voice raw and cutting, "I will rip your throat out with my own teeth."

The Elder’s lips curled into a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. "That is the blood I gave you, son. Do not waste it."

He turned and walked into the shadows without another word.

Rhett stood alone beneath the ancient sigils, the air vibrating with ancestral threats.

And for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure if he could protect the family he’d built, or the woman who had unknowingly wed herself to this storm.

He clenched his hands until blood ran beneath his nails.

He would have to choose soon.

Or everything would burn.

"You’re awake again." His voice was quiet, almost gentle.

Magnolia managed a brittle smile. "Apparently sleep isn’t very fond of me."

Rhett stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The heavy oak clicked into place, sealing them into a bubble of quiet tension.

"You should rest," he said.

Magnolia crossed her arms, turning back to the window. "I try. But every time I close my eyes..." She trailed off, her throat tightening.

"The visions again."

She nodded. "It’s getting worse."

He exhaled slowly. "Tell me."

She hesitated. Part of her didn’t want to drag him deeper into this. But she was already drowning. She couldn’t hold it alone.

"They’re not just dreams anymore. It’s like I’m... there. Like I’m being pulled into something. I see him, the child, burning. Screaming. And those figures... those things in the forest, watching. Accusing."

Rhett’s jaw flexed. "The Ash Child."

Magnolia turned sharply to face him. "What is he, Rhett? What’s happening to Camille? To me?"

He rubbed a hand through his hair, pacing toward the fireplace. The flames cast golden light across his sharp profile.

"My father believes Camille’s blood carries the last threads of the original Alpha Kings. The Ash Line."

She swallowed hard. "And me?"

"You share bloodlines with her. Enough that whatever force awakened in her... it’s touching you too."

Magnolia felt her knees weaken. She sat on the edge of the bed, fingers gripping the blanket tightly.

"But why now?" she whispered. "Why after all these years?"

Rhett’s voice dropped, almost to a growl. "Because my father’s preparing for war. And he needs a weapon no one can stand against."

Magnolia looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Camille’s not a weapon."

"I know," he said softly.

"Then stop him," she pleaded. "Fight him."

"I intend to."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the soft crackle of the fire.

Rhett crossed the space between them and knelt before her, taking her cold hands into his much warmer ones. His touch was firm but gentle, grounding her.

"I won’t let him take her," he said. "Or you."

Magnolia blinked back tears. "You can’t protect us both, Rhett. This thing inside her, it’s growing."

His thumbs brushed softly over her knuckles, a rare tenderness breaking through his usually guarded facade. "I don’t care. I’ll find a way."

Their eyes locked, two storm systems colliding in silence.

For a brief, dangerous second, Magnolia allowed herself to lean into his touch, to feel the warmth of his skin grounding her spiraling mind. Her breath hitched. She could feel his pulse against her wrist, steady, strong.

It was reckless. But in that moment, she didn’t care.

She let her head lower, resting her forehead against his.

Neither spoke.

Neither needed to.

But the fragile peace shattered when the air in the room shifted.

Cold.

Magnolia’s head jerked up as the temperature dropped several degrees in an instant.

The fire in the hearth sputtered. The shadows deepened unnaturally, crawling up the walls like living things.

And then,

The whisper came.

Low. Faint. From nowhere and everywhere at once.

"She is awakening."

Magnolia gasped, pulling away from Rhett’s touch.

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, eyes scanning the room.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, voice trembling.

"Yes." His voice was sharp now. Guarded. "Stay here."

"No!" Magnolia grabbed his arm. "I’m not staying behind."

The whisper came again, clearer this time.

"The vessel cracks. The flame will spill."

Rhett’s breathing grew heavier. "They’re inside the manor now."

"Who?"

"The ones drawn to the Ash Blood."

They moved quickly, both rushing into the hallway. The mansion groaned under their feet, as if the very bones of the building resented their presence.

Down the hall, in Camille’s chamber, a glow pulsed beneath the closed door, an unnatural, steady red light bleeding into the cracks.

Rhett reached for the handle.

"Wait," Magnolia whispered. "Listen."

They both froze.

From inside came a soft, rhythmic chant. Camille’s voice, repeating something too faint to decipher. The air outside the door grew hot, pressing against their skin like steam.

"She’s not alone in there," Rhett murmured.

Magnolia’s heart hammered. "Then open it."

Rhett kicked the door open.

The heat exploded outward. The flames from dozens of candles circled Camille’s floating body in tight formation. Her arms were spread, her head thrown back, her hair hovering weightless like black ink in water. The entire room vibrated with raw, pulsing energy.

On the walls, strange symbols were scorched into the plaster, spirals of ash spreading like veins.

Camille’s voice rose, her chant blending into an eerie melody.

"Born from fire, fed by ash, returned through blood..."

"Camille!" Magnolia shouted.

Her sister’s eyes snapped open.

They were red.

Not just glowing, but burning.

Her lips moved again, but the voice that came was not hers.

"The child remembers."

Rhett cursed under his breath. "We have to break it. Now."

He lunged forward, ignoring the searing heat, grabbing Camille’s arm. The moment his skin touched hers, a burst of blinding light filled the room, knocking Magnolia back into the hallway.

When her vision cleared, Rhett stood, breathing hard, holding Camille in his arms. The floating candles had extinguished. The red light was gone.

Camille’s head lolled against his chest, unconscious.

Magnolia staggered forward, her voice hoarse. "Is she...?"

"She’s alive," Rhett said, but his voice was tight, uncertain. "Barely."

They both stared at the symbols burned into the walls, the faint smell of ash still lingering thick in the air.

Magnolia whispered, "It’s getting stronger, isn’t it?"

Rhett didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

The darkness inside Camille was no longer sleeping.

It was awakening.