The mirror shows what I no longer am. My reflection flickers—gold eyes dimming, veins blackening beneath my skin. Thirty years. Seven days left. I can smell her now, even here, locked in the highest tower: lavender and warm earth, unmistakably human. Elira. My fated mate. The curse burns colder when she’s near, as if mocking me.

She shouldn’t be here. I sent orders she’d never cross the border. Yet here she stands, breathless at my door, clutching a scroll sealed in moon wax. 'I came because you called,' she says. 'Even if you didn’t speak, I felt it.'

Every instinct roars to pull her close, to claim her, to live. But I’ve read the old texts. Human hearts can’t withstand an Alpha’s bond. One touch could kill her.

She steps forward. 'Tell me what’s wrong, Killian.'

I clench my fists. The choice tears through me: let her walk away and face my death… or let her stay and risk hers.