Chapter 80: Chapter 80: The Mystery of the Seal

Lila POV

Jasper didn’t answer Zoe’s question right away. Instead, he walked over to the window and pushed open a narrow pane.

The night wind rushed in, carrying the crisp scent of pine unique to Eagle’s Beak Cliff and ruffling a few strands of his black hair. He gazed at the mountain silhouettes in the distance—their inky outlines appeared even more rugged in the moonlight, like a colossal beast that had slumbered for a thousand years, its spine craggy, its claws and fangs hidden deep.

“Because for the Priest who wields it, this power is a sacrifice.” His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping across rough stone. “When a Priest uses their power, it inflicts irreversible damage upon them.”

Zoe looked up, her gaze sweeping over Jasper’s tense jawline. The corner of her lips curved into a very faint, knowing smile.

“Tsk,” she chuckled, her voice like a wisp of wind gliding over ice. “It seems the rest of this story is a little too private.”

She walked to the door, the hem of her dress stirring a cool current in the air. As her hand rested on the brass doorknob, she glanced back over her shoulder, her smile as bright as ever. “Jasper, Lila, I wish you… a good ’unsealing’.”

The door closed softly with a barely audible CLICK. Like a pebble dropped into a deep well, the sound rippled through the study before being quietly swallowed by the fire in the hearth.

And now, only Jasper stood before me.

In the study, there was only the two of us and the low breathing of the fire.

Jasper didn’t speak immediately. He just walked over to me, his tall figure completely enveloping me in a silhouette of warm light and shadow. He reached out, not to touch my face, but with extreme slowness, to cover my hands, which were folded in my lap. His palms were broad and his fingertips calloused, their heat almost dangerously scorching, like a branding iron fresh from a furnace.

“Lila.” He called my name, his voice low and hoarse, like sandpaper on rough stone. Each syllable was wrapped in a tremor that was suppressed to its absolute limit, bordering on violent.

I didn’t look up. I could just feel every muscle in his body tense—not with the coiled readiness before a fight, but with a more primal, more tempestuous instinct from the very depths of his Wolf Clan bloodline, roaring in silence. It was a pure, undeniable possessiveness, like a tide surging over a levee, carrying an irresistible, briny power that threatened to swallow me whole.

I held my breath unconsciously, the tips of my fingers growing cold.

It wasn’t revulsion.

It was fear.

The kind of instinctive terror from the depths of one’s soul when faced with absolute power. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, a bottomless abyss at my feet, while behind me, a giant was slowly opening its arms, ready to pull me into an embrace, yet I had no way of knowing if in the next second it would push me off or hold me tight.

He seemed to sense my stiffness.

The surging, oppressive feeling that had threatened to tear me apart suddenly faltered.

The pressure of his large hand on the back of mine suddenly lightened, becoming exceptionally gentle, as if he were soothing a frightened cub. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against my temple. His warm breath brushed against my hair, carrying the scent of pine resin and sea breeze.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was so low it was almost inaudible, but it landed like a scalding pebble in the lake of my heart. “Things have changed… too quickly.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice roiling with an almost painful exhaustion. “I should have given you time. A safe room, a lamp that never goes out, a step-by-step plan… I should have protected you, just as your mother, Isolde, did with her own life.”

He paused, his breathing slightly ragged. “But now… Derek’s ’Furnace’ has been lit, Arthur’s gray chain is tightening, and the cracks in the Elder Council are deep enough to see bone. We can’t afford to wait…”

He looked up, his gaze sinking deep into my eyes. What roiled within them was no longer the violence from before, but an almost tragic, all-or-nothing resolve. “So, I have no choice but to take a dangerous risk. To gamble—on the Wise Elder’s wisdom, on Elder Darius’s experience, on their willingness to use their life’s work to walk with us down this thorn-strewn path, on the most dangerous night journey of all.”

I looked at him.

I looked at the bottomless exhaustion and pain in his eyes, at the thin sheen of sweat on his brow, at his large hand covering mine—trembling slightly, but never letting go.

’So, the Wolf King who always stood with his back straight, in complete control, also had moments where he was this vulnerable.’

’He wasn’t omnipotent.’

’It was just that after losing me once, he couldn’t afford to lose a second time.’

I slowly raised my hand. My fingertips trembled slightly, but I firmly placed it over his large hand that was covering mine.

“I want to break the seal sooner, too.” My voice was soft, but exceptionally clear, like a pebble dropped into a deep pool, sending out silent ripples. “It’s not just to help you, Jasper.”

I met his suddenly brightening eyes and spoke, word by word, with a frankness that was almost sharp:

“It’s more for my own sake.”

“I’ve lived for twenty-five years thinking I was an ordinary human. The Goodrich family taught me to play the piano, to appreciate wine, to smile gracefully at Wall Street galas… But beneath all that elegance, a wild tide I don’t even recognize surges in my blood.” I looked down at my folded hands, my fingertips unconsciously tracing the cold edges of the anchor brooch on my wrist. “I don’t know who I am. Am I Lila Bennett? The adopted daughter of the Goodrich family? Or… a broken Priest, all of her instincts sealed away?”

I raised my head, my gaze as clear as a lake covered in fresh snow. “Breaking the seal isn’t about becoming a weapon, or proving anything. It’s because I want… to feel my own bones, to see if they truly bear the markings of moonlight. It’s because I want… to taste my own blood, to see if it’s truly hotter than a normal person’s. It’s because I want… on some stormy night, to no longer be afraid of the thunder outside my window, but instead to hear my own heartbeat resonating in sync with the pulse of the entire forest.”

I paused, a genuine, girlish confusion and curiosity coloring my voice.

“And… you once said that a Werewolf’s instinct isn’t to tear, or to conquer, but to ’connect’.” I looked at him, the flickering firelight reflected in my eyes. “But I’ve never understood. What does that ’connection’… actually feel like? Is it the kind of ’connection’ the Goodrich family has, one bound by contracts and self-interest? Or…”

My fingertip lightly tapped his large hand resting on mine. There, a faint, tiny silver line was faintly visible, appearing and disappearing with the pulse of his blood—the mark of the Wolf King’s bloodline, and the invisible umbilical cord connecting him to this land and all the people of the Wolf Clan.

“Or is it like this?”

Jasper didn’t answer.

He cupped my face in his hands, the pad of his thumb gently wiping away a single warm tear that had welled up in the corner of my eye without my noticing.

“Lila,” he gazed into my eyes, his voice low and solemn, as if reciting an eternal vow. “When you break the seal, you won’t become someone else. You will just… finally, recognize yourself.”

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