(Adrian POV)

I reached the pup - Lys - in three strides.

The root pulsed once, hungry and cold. Its thorns bit into her skin, drawing thin lines of blood. Her eyes were wide with terror, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Behind me, I heard Lily gasp. Heard her footsteps as she started to move.

"Stay back!" I barked, but even as I said it, I knew she wouldn't listen.

I grabbed the root with both hands. Pain exploded up my arms - ice and fire, the same cursed cold I'd felt before. The root writhed, trying to burrow deeper into Lys's flesh.

"Let her go," I snarled, and let the wolf rise just enough. My eyes flared gold. My grip tightened until I felt the root begin to crack.

But it wasn't enough.

Then Lily was there.

She dropped to her knees beside me, her hands reaching for the root without hesitation. The thorns bit into her palms instantly, drinking deep. Blood welled between her fingers.

"Lily, no-"

"It's all right," she whispered to Lys, her voice shaking but firm. "You're not alone."

The root shuddered. For a moment - just a heartbeat, it loosened.

Lily's blood soaked into it, and something changed. The magic faltered, confused by her willingness, her defiance.

I pulled.

The root screamed - a sound like wood tearing, like wind through dead leaves, and snapped.

Black ichor sprayed across the ground, hissing where it landed.

Lys tumbled free into Ina's arms, sobbing but alive.

I stood slowly, chest heaving, blood and sap dripping from my hands. The wolf inside me was still snarling, demanding more violence, more answers.

But then I looked at Lily.

She was still kneeling in the dirt, her hands torn and bleeding, her cloak muddy and askew. She was staring at the severed root like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

And then she looked up at me.

Her brown eyes found mine, and in them I saw fear - yes, but also something else. Something fierce and unbreakable.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

She nodded, but her hands were shaking.

I crouched beside her and took her wrists gently, turning her palms up to inspect the damage. The thorns had cut deep. Blood ran in thin rivers down to her elbows.

"You shouldn't have done that," I said quietly.

"Better me than her," she whispered.

Something in my chest cracked open.

Around us, the pack had gone silent. They were staring at Lily with new eyes - some with grudging respect, others with fear.

She had bled for one of ours. For a pup who wasn't hers.

That changed things.

I helped her to her feet, and she swayed slightly. I steadied her with a hand at her elbow, and for a moment we just stood there - close enough that I could feel her heartbeat, close enough that the ward I'd inked on her throat pulsed faintly with warmth.

"Thank you," I said, so quietly only she could hear.

She met my eyes. "I told you I wasn't afraid."

"I know," I said. "That's what terrifies me."

***

Later, after Ina had bandaged Lily's hands and put Lys to bed, I found myself standing at the edge of camp again, staring into the dark forest.

Marek appeared beside me, as he always did.

"She bled for the pack," he said simply.

"I know."

"They saw it."

"I know."

He was quiet for a moment. "Some of them are starting to believe she belongs here."

I turned to look at him. "And the others?"

"They're waiting to see if the Witch comes for her next."

I felt the truth of that settle in my bones. Morgana was watching. Testing. Probing for weaknesses.

And she'd found one.

Lily.

"We need to find out what the Witch wants," I said.

Marek nodded toward the trees. "The cave. The old words. You said there were runes about curses and breaking them."

I had said that. And I'd been avoiding going back ever since.

Because the runes didn't just talk about breaking curses. They talked about love, about sacrifice, and about the kinds of choices that destroyed men who made them.

"I'll go at first light," I said.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

Marek didn't argue. He knew better.

I turned back toward camp and found Lily sitting by the fire, her bandaged hands resting in her lap. She was staring into the flames like they held answers she was too afraid to ask for.

I wanted to go to her. Wanted to sit beside her and tell her that she was brave and foolish and everything I didn't deserve.

But I stayed where I was.

Because every step I took toward her was a step closer to the prophecy coming true.

Where love touches the cursed, death rises to listen.

In the trees above, a raven called out once - sharp and mocking.

I looked up, and its white eye gleamed in the darkness.

Morgana was watching.

And she was smiling.