Chapter 253: Episode 253.

Beatrice’s expression slowly shifted.

The relief she’d felt only moments ago dissolved beneath a growing frown.

"Wearing..." she repeated quietly. "...your face?"

Aire nodded once.

Her stomach twisted just thinking about it.

"The Dark Fae call him Lysander."

The name alone seemed to chill the room.

"He..." She swallowed, her fingers unconsciously curling into fists. "He stole my skin."

Neither Beatrice nor Asterion interrupted her.

"He looks exactly like me." She glanced at her hands briefly. "So perfect that even I..." Her voice faltered. "Even I thought I saw him a few moments ago."

Her eyes drifted toward the mirror she’d deliberately turned away.

"I looked into the mirror..." She shook her head. "...and for a second..." She forced herself to breathe. "...he smiled at me."

Beatrice instinctively reached for her hand.

Aire let her. Only because she was too tired to pull away.

"The last time I saw him..." she continued, "he was still wearing my face." She swallowed. "So I don’t know what they’re planning."

She looked between both of them.

"But whatever it is..." Her breathing became uneven again. "...my mates won’t know."

Asterion’s brows drew together.

Aire continued before either of them could speak. "They’ll think it’s me." Her words came faster now. "Nate won’t question me."

She could already feel all three of them tying over and over again to reach a bond that had gone impossibly quiet while trying to believe she was the one.

"They’ll all be looking for me." She looked back at Asterion. "So please." Her voice softened. "I don’t care about prophecies. I don’t care about bloodlines. I don’t care about kingdoms." She let out a soft exhale. "I need to go back."

"If Lysander reaches them before I do..."

She couldn’t finish. She didn’t want to imagine it.

Beatrice squeezed her hand gently.

Asterion remained quiet for several long moments. When he finally spoke, his voice carried no anger, only sadness.

"I believe you."

Aire blinked. "You do?" She asked readily.

He nodded.

"I do not doubt that someone in the Dark Realm would commit such cruelty."

Aire almost sighed in relief.

"But..."

Her shoulders immediately stiffened.

"There are traces of Dark Fae magic inside you."

Everything inside Aire went still.

"What?" Disbelief hugged her face, as she raised her brain trying to process what he had just said.

"It entered your body." He stepped closer. "Not because you accepted it, because you survived it."

Aire frowned. "I don’t understand."

"The Dark Realm changes everyone who remains there." His eyes searched hers carefully. "The chains, the spells, the lies." He counted. "The fear, the commands, and every time they forced their magic upon you..." His voice became quieter. "...it left fragments behind."

Aire stared at him. "I don’t feel different." She shook her head. "I don’t feel different. Please just let me go back."

"You wouldn’t." Asterion said softly. "That is what makes it dangerous." He folded his hands behind his back. "Dark magic is patient. It buries itself. It learns. It waits. It twists." He touched the bridge of his nose softly. "It doesn’t simply touch the flesh."

His gaze settled over her heart. "It settles here."

Aire instinctively pressed a hand against her chest. "I know what I feel." She shook her head with stubborn refusal. "My heart is mine."

"It is." Asterion nodded. "But something else now lives beside it."

She laughed a harsh laugh. "So now I’m cursed again?"

"This is not a curse."

"Then what is it?"

"A contamination."

She stepped backwards. "Stop telling me there’s something wrong with me."

"There isn’t."

"There is if you’re calling me contaminated."

Beatrice quickly stepped forward. "Aire—"

Aire pulled her hand away. "Leave me be." Her breathing became ragged. "I have spent twenty years hearing people tell me I wasn’t enough. That I wasn’t pure enough, wolf enough, and normal enough."

She looked directly at Asterion. "And now you’re telling me I’m corrupted?"

"I’m telling you..." His voice never rose. "...that they hurt you in ways you cannot yet see."

She shook her head violently. "I’m leaving."

His expression remained gentle. "You can’t."

"I wondered how long it would take." She snapped. "You don’t want me." She pointed toward the enormous windows. "You want whatever this is."

She gestured toward herself. "My blood, my magic, and my stupid prophecy. You don’t care about me." The rim of her eyes turned red, but she refused to let the tears show.

Asterion closed his eyes briefly. "I do."

She shook her head. "You need me." She took a step back. "That’s different."

"You cannot leave until you’re cleansed." He deadpanned.

The room fell completely still.

Aire stared at him. For several long seconds, she simply stared at him. Then, she laughed softly. She laughed until tears filled her eyes.

"Cleansed?" She repeated the word as though tasting poison. "Cleansed?"

Her breathing became uneven again. "So that’s your solution? You trap me, you lie to me, you tell me I’m contaminated and now I need cleansing?"

She wiped roughly at her face. "I don’t need cleansing." She ruased her voice. "I need to go home."

She turned sharply toward Beatrice, almost desperately.

"You understand." Her voice softened immediately. "You’ve been taken before." She nodded, as if crazy. "You know what this feels like."

She crossed the room in hurried steps before Beatrice could react. She caught both of Beatrice’s hands inside hers.

"They took you too." Her eyes searched the older woman’s face. "You remember." She said breathlessly, her eyes wider than usual. "They stole you from your sons."

Beatrice’s lips trembled.

Aire held her tighter. "Don’t you want to leave?" Hope burned desperately inside her eyes. "Come with me. We’ll go together. We’ll find them."

Aire eyes burned. "Nate." She whispered, blinking furiously now to stop her tears from spilling. "Xander and Alaric. They’ve waited years." She smiffed. "They still love you." Her voice broke. "They deserve their mother, and you deserve your sons."

Aire took in a gready breath. Her knees trembled. "Please..."

Beatrice’s expression slowly crumpled. For one terrible second, Aire truly believed she would say yes.

Instead, Beatrice lowered her eyes, and a sad smile appeared on her face.

She gently shook her head. "I love it here."

Aire blinked. "What?"

Beatrice squeezed her hands softly. "This..." She looked around the room. "...is my home now."

Aire’s fingers loosened. Her expression emptied. First came disbelief, then confusion. Something colder followed.

She slowly released Beatrice’s hands.

"You..." Her voice barely came out. "You don’t want to go back?"

Beatrice’s eyes shimmered. "I wanted to." She smiled sadly. "For years." Her gaze drifted toward the window. "But waiting became living."

"And living..." Another sad smile graced her lips. "...became home."

Aire simply stared at her. She couldn’t understand it. Disgust flickered briefly across her face.

How could anyone stop wanting the people they loved?

Then, hust as quickly, that disgust disappeared. She remembered the years, the decades, the loneliness, and the silence.

She remembered what endless waiting had almost done to herself in only one year.

Beatrice had endured far longer.

Understanding slowly replaced her judgment.

Asterion watched the exchange quietly before speaking again.

"Every lie." His voice drew Aire’s attention back to him. "Every manipulation. Every lesson the Dark Fae forced upon you. They left part of themselves inside you."

He stepped closer. "I need that darkness removed, so your heart may become whole again. And so your true power can awaken."

Aire’s expression immediately hardened. "I don’t care about my powers."

"You should."

"I don’t."

"They were never meant for you alone." His voice rose firmly. "We are the guardians of the realms."

His voice carried quiet certainty. "But you..." He looked directly into her eyes. "...you are the protector of the guardians."

Silence settled over the room.

Aire’s lips slowly curved into a sinister smile. "I have no obligation to protect anyone." Her voice remained calm. "Especially realms that keep trying to use me."

"You need a pure heart to protect the realms, Aire."

She didn’t blink.

"We protect the realms." He placed one hand over his heart. "You..." His voice softened. "...protect those who protect them."

Aire stared at him. "Says the man..." She took one slow step toward him. "...who went to war against innocent wolves."

Asterion looked genuinely stunned when he heard her. Even Beatrice’s eyes widened.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Asterion drew one slow breath. Quietly, he said. "Come with me."

Aire didn’t even hesitate. "I’m not."

He held her gaze. "Even if you do not believe me..." His voice became almost impossibly gentle. "...for whatever love you still have left for your father..." He turned toward the door. "...follow me."