Chapter 0397

"What are you implying?"

"Woodland sprites are delicate beings. When they suffer such brutal injuries, their will to live shatters. Their light fades unless someone reignites their hope."

A realization strikes me. "What if it's a werewolf? Can they bond with our kind?"

"Not in recent times. The hostility between fae and wolves made it impossible. But centuries ago, such unions were common."

"How would it work now? She's too injured for a traditional marking."

"He'd have to tend her wounds with his tongue." Oh moon goddess. Alexander unknowingly bonded those twins.

"Once she recovers, he can mark her properly—if she consents. But right now, he must show acceptance of her broken state through gentle care."

"Thank you, Finnian."

"Alert me if we lose one of our fragile ones."

"I will." I turn to leave.

Back in the infirmary, Isolde has convinced Tobias to let Seraphina examine Elara. His wolf Fenrir remains pressed against the sprite, nudging her with desperate whimpers.

"Leopold. Private word. Now." I mind-link the warrior.

Tobias lifts his head. "Can this wait, Alpha?"

"I might save her. But you need full disclosure before acting."

Tobias shifts back. Leopold cradles Elara's face. "Stay with me. One minute." His kiss lingers on her forehead before he joins me.

In my office, I face him. "Finnian suggested a solution."

"Then let's—"

"It requires mating her." My gaze holds his.

He stiffens. "My mate?"

"Yes. Fae-wolf bonds were once common. Nearly a century has passed since the last." Except Alexander's secret union.

"Fenrir's protective instincts suggest willingness. But know this—she'll need lifelong care. Once healed, you may mark her traditionally if she agrees."

"Victor." Isolde's link crackles with urgency. "Her light's fading fast."

"Decide now, Leopold."

"Fenrir and I claim her." His growl vibrates through the room as he shifts mid-sprint.

When we return, Elara's glow barely flickers. Fenrir's mournful howl shakes the walls.

"Lick her wounds," I order.

The twins gasp, whispering about wolf bonds.

Fenrir's tongue traces the ravaged wing stump. No response. He whines, persisting with tender strokes.

Then—a twitch.

Her hand rises weakly to his muzzle as his tongue swipes her cheek. The faintest golden light pulses between them.

Tobias shifts back, gathering her against his chest as her glow strengthens. The twins' astonished chatter fills the healing chamber.