Page 4 of Destined to the Lycan (The Shadow Realms #3)

I opened my mouth to prod further, but the look on her face made it clear she considered the topic settled, and that it was time for me to move on.

I cleared my throat and shifted uneasily on the wooden chair.

“So what must I do to acquire that cure?” I asked in a subdued tone.

Once again, a strange expression flashed over her features. For a reason I couldn’t explain, my back instantly stiffened. I would hate her answer.

“You must receive an even greater poison to kill the one spreading inside of you.”

I nearly jumped out of my seat, my entire body jerking as if under the impact of a physical blow.

“WHAT?! A greater poison will kill me even faster!” I exclaimed in a self-evident tone.

“Not exactly,” she said calmly. “What you need is to be bitten by the snake tail of the Cursed Demon Wolf.”

I gaped at her as if she had lost her mind.

Seemingly unfazed by my horrified expression, the Weaver continued explaining in a conversational tone.

“The venom will first attack the poison that’s eating you from within.

Only once it has been eradicated will the venom start harming you.

When it does, you will need a second bite from the fangs of the sick wolf.

This time, the saliva will neutralize the venom. ”

“That’s suicide!” I exclaimed. “The Cursed Demon Wolf is rabid! By all accounts, he kills on sight anything foolish enough to come within range. And you expect me to voluntarily subject myself to his bite, not once but twice?!”

She bowed her head in concession. “Ranael is indeed rabid because of the curse. But he’s also Marchosias’ son.

Demon wolves are protectors. It is in their DNA.

In Ranael’s case, you are correct that he will attack anyone he randomly encounters because his madness rules him.

However, if he is summoned, his protective instincts will take over. ”

I blinked while struggling to accept her words.

“Do I understand correctly that summoning him will nullify his curse?” I asked disbelievingly.

She shook her head, confusing me even more. “It will not nullify it, only temporarily pause his feral side. You must invoke his protection while summoning him. He will be bound by it. But once he comes, you must hurry. The protective bond will only last so long before madness takes him again.”

I nodded slowly, realizing that he would effectively be subjected to the same constraints as any other summoned demon. And then, my eyes suddenly widened as a thought struck me.

“Wait, aren’t demon wolves also bound by truth?” I asked.

A discreet smile stretched her lips. “Yes. Demon wolves will always answer any question truthfully. But remember, you have little time. Do not waste it on futilities. Secure a safe bite from Ranael quickly.”

“But how do I even summon him? I only have a very basic knowledge of the arcane,” I said sheepishly. “Anything related to candle magic I master, but summoning is definitely not one of them.”

“Fear not, child. I will show you the ritual,” she replied with a dismissive gesture.

I licked my lips nervously. “All right, thank you. How do I find him? I’ve heard of the legend of the Cursed Demon Wolf, but not much else.”

“Retain the services of a guide in Wolfmoon Mountain,” Cliona said firmly. “The Howl Inn is an excellent place to find one. But be warned that the journey is perilous. So pick your guide wisely. Once you’ve been bitten by the snake tail, you will need your guide to take you back to safety.”

I swallowed hard and nodded slowly. “How will I know when I’m ready for the second bite?”

“The capillaries under your skin will start turning black,” the Weaver said with an almost malicious glimmer in her purple eyes.

A part of me realized that she was deliberately trying to freak me out as it seemed to amuse her.

I swallowed hard again, refusing to show how well she was succeeding in that endeavor.

“That sounds rather painful,” I said carefully. “Will I be in any condition to go back to Ranael for the second bite?”

The strangest expression fleeted over her features. She didn’t respond right away. While her face betrayed nothing of what thoughts were crossing her mind, I understood at a visceral level that this would be a key part of the trial that awaited me.

“Pick a guide you literally trust with your life, and all will be well,” she replied in a mysterious tone.

“Trust with my life?” I echoed with disbelief. “How am I supposed to do that with someone I will have just met?”

She shrugged with a taunting expression. “That’s for you to figure out. But do so swiftly. Time isn’t on your side. Just so you know, Ronika cannot help you again.”

My stomach dropped, and a sense of dread and borderline despair washed over me. That she knew of this when I had not even remotely hinted at the help the healer had given me truly messed with my head. But this confirmation that I no longer had this safety net wrecked me.

“How much time do I have?” I whispered, my voice slightly shaky.

To my surprise, the Weaver didn’t answer right away.

She glanced instead at the wall behind her to her left.

I couldn’t see anything there but an empty wall.

The way she examined it, there was something beyond my capacity to perceive.

Only then did I take a moment to look around the large room I had just spent the past twenty minutes in.

It looked more spacious inside than one would expect from the outside.

This further supported my theory that the exterior was an illusion.

The left side of the room had a multitude of scrolls, grimoires, and various parchments that undoubtedly contained the type of advanced magic most spellcasters, conjurers, and arcanists would sell their souls for.

The opposite side of the room had countless vials containing potions and liquids.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what purpose they served.

It also boasted an impressive collection of herbs and reagents that would likely be worth an insane amount of money on the free market.

But it was the spinning wheel next to the wall that retained my attention.

Only then did I finally notice that a golden thread from the wheel pointed towards the wall before fading away.

This could only mean that whatever she was spinning was displayed on that wall but invisible to my layman’s eyes.

Before I could dwell further on the matter, the Weaver turned her attention back to me.

“If you go on this mission to seek out Ranael, your fate will be decided in the next six weeks. But if you don’t go, you will die in less than two months,” she said in a factual manner.

This struck me like a boulder to the chest. I clasped my hands in my lap, squeezing them tightly to keep them from shaking. I took a deep breath, not even realizing that I was slowly nodding as if in acknowledgement of the inevitable.

“I see. Is there no other way than exposing myself to the bite of a cursed demon wolf?” I asked, hating the pleadingly hopeful tone in my voice.

“There is. But do not get your hopes up. You would never live long enough to see the alternative paths through. Had you come to me a month ago when you first noticed the symptoms, you would have had other options. That window has closed. However, even if you had come then, I would have strongly suggested you go to Ranael instead. This path is the one that ensures the greatest possible outcome for you.”

My shoulders drooped, and I nodded again, this time with resignation. “Should I leave now then?”

She shook her head and took on a serious expression. “Not today, but in three days time. Only go to the Howl Inn on the day after the full moon.”

“ After the full moon?” I repeated suspiciously.

“It’s called Wolfmoon Mountain for a reason,” the Weaver replied as if I’d said something stupid. “Various Lycan packs share the territory.”

“Yes, I’d heard as much. But I thought the full moon business was just legends and folk tales parents tell their children when they misbehaved, like some kind of boogeyman?”

She gave me an indulgent and slightly mocking smile.

“All legends and folktales are rooted in reality. Lycans are indeed not affected by the werewolf curse. The full moon doesn’t affect them.

But there are werewolves. You don’t want to be caught by one of them on the full moon. Get to the inn the day after.”

“Understood,” I said before clearing my throat and giving her a wary glance. “So… What is your fee for your assistance? I doubt my rarest witch candles will entice you.”

Her disdainful snort stung.

“I have a respectable amount of savings, and I could sell—”

“Your blood,” the Weaver said, interrupting me.

“Excuse me?” I asked, stunned.

“Once cured, you will give me a phial of your blood,” the Weaver said firmly.

I recoiled and stared at her in outrage. “What? That’s out of the question!”

“Relax, foolish girl!” she said sternly. “I will not use it to harm, control, or bind you. If you survive this ordeal, your blood will have the serum to the most virulent poison in existence. I want it.”

The tension knotting my back instantly loosened, but only partially. “What if I don’t survive?” I challenged.

She shrugged. “Then I will have failed to help you, which will void your debt.”

“So my surviving family wouldn’t be held accountable?” I insisted.

“No,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “The contract is between you and me. If you are cured, you’ll owe me a phial of your blood. If you die, then we both lose, and the contract is voided.”

I pursed my lips, my mind still racing about all the ways this could go wrong.

To my surprise, the Weaver rolled her eyes with an air of exasperation. “I pledge that your blood will be used solely to derive a healing serum. In no way, shape, or form will it be used to harm you or anyone else.”

My jaw dropped. You didn’t play with a pledge.

It acted like a blood oath. Breaking your word had grievous consequences that no one wanted to face.

You just had to be careful with the terms of the pledge.

A clever play on words would suffice to fool you into thinking the pledge granted you far more protection than it truly did.

But in this instance, I could find no fault or loophole within it.

“Very well. Then we have a deal,” I said softly.

The triumphant smile that stretched the Weaver’s sensuous lips threw me. It was so brief and quickly hidden that I wondered if I’d imagined it. As I doubted saving my life ranked high in her priorities, I could only assume that the serum in my blood truly held a great value to her.

She spent the next twenty minutes teaching me how to summon Ranael. By the time I left her house, a light shone over me, pushing away the crushing despair that had been engulfing me.

However impossible the odds, I now had hope.