Bettina spent the hours after the Queen's visit shivering, but not just from the cold. Her mind was a battlefield. Queen Sybil's words were a terrible weight: Erich's undoing. The Queen had confirmed Erich was risking his life and his ancient throne to save her. Yet, he still hadn't spoken one word of simple human love.
Was this devoted protection? Or was this the furious pride of a creature who simply refused to let his property be taken? Bettina squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight the desperate hope that whispered love against the fear that screamed possession. Her only certainty was that she had to survive, not just for herself, but to give Erich a reason to stop before he destroyed himself.
Meanwhile, miles away, Erich was leaving the last shreds of his human life behind. He was a black shadow moving through the abandoned, industrial heart of the city—a place where the supernatural underworld met the edges of civilization. He wore dark, practical clothing that moved with his body, and the cold fury in his eyes was the only light he needed.
Arnold drove a rusted, unmarked utility van to a desolate warehouse district. Inside, the cavernous space was filled with the sounds of shifting metal and the low thrum of cheap, unstable magic. This was the territory of the Rogues of the Edge—a loose collection of banished Witches, mercenary Werewolves, and criminal Vampires who operated outside the High Council's ancient rules.
"These are scavengers, Erich," Arnold warned quietly, gripping the steering wheel. "They have no loyalty and no honor. They only care about the price. We need the best. The Witch named Harrow."
Erich stepped out of the van, the air around him crackling with suppressed power. He looked nothing like the CEO; he looked like a king driven mad. "Harrow deals in things that break the rules, Arnold. That is exactly what we need."
They found Harrow in a corner, surrounded by stacks of unstable magical artifacts and flickering wards. She was a small, sharp-featured woman, with eyes that saw far too much and fingers adorned with tarnished silver rings.
Harrow smiled, a slow, predatory curve of her lips. "The King's son. You smell of desperation, Erich. A mix of Werewolf rage, Vampire ambition, and the cheap salt of human tears. It's intoxicating."
Erich ignored the insult. He reached into his coat and produced the velvet pouch he'd prepared. He dumped its contents onto the metal table: a stunning pile of uncut diamonds and priceless emeralds, centuries old. He had liquidated every off-book, liquid asset he owned.
"I need something to nullify a royal blood-shield, put up by the Queen herself," Erich stated, his voice a cold command. "I need a single point of weakness in the Citadel's high wards. I need something that allows a Triple Hybrid to walk where only purity is permitted."
Harrow whistled softly at the pile of gems. "That's a king's ransom, even for me. What you ask for is called a Shadow-Walk Talisman. A thing of legend. It allows a user to temporarily dissolve their lineage signature, tricking the most powerful wards into thinking you are merely shadow and air. It's an impossible item."
"Find it, Harrow," Erich growled, his voice dropping to the low, dangerous rumble that was a sign of his shifting nature. "I don't need a legend. I need a tool. I need it in twelve hours, or I will come back and personally dismantle this little shop of horrors, starting with your bones."
Harrow did not flinch. Instead, she pointed to one item in the pile—a massive, flawed blue diamond. "This gem alone could buy a small kingdom. But it will buy me the time and the resources to retrieve the Talisman. I know where it is, Erich. But it's protected by a curse that requires more than just money."
"What does it require?" Arnold asked nervously.
Harrow met Erich's gaze, her eyes narrowing. "A blood sacrifice of equivalent purity, or... the transfer of half the user's life force into the Talisman, turning it into a single-use key. You have to burn a part of yourself to use it, Erich. It's a literal sacrifice for the girl."
Erich didn't hesitate. He swept the gems back into the pouch, leaving only the large blue diamond. He looked at Arnold, his decision already made. "Get the talisman, Harrow. The price is paid. I will burn every part of myself they require to get her back."
He walked away, leaving Arnold to finalize the deal, his figure dissolving into the shadows. He had traded his worldly wealth for a chance at war, and he was ready to pay the price with his own life force.