Wisteria Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 13 of 13

Alastair led her across the ornate black metal bridge that spanned the grove's western water. The intricate patterns caught moonlight between each curve and spiral. He stopped beside the weeping willow at the bridge's far end, where purple and green branches hung like curtains around them. His hand still held hers, the ring cold against both their skin. He spoke her words again, slower this time. She had written that she was afraid of what would happen if she stopped fighting for control. That letting someone see her desperation felt like handing them a weapon. That she'd spent seventeen years trying to prove she belonged at Nightshade Grove, and the hardest part wasn't the magic or the ritual—it was accepting that Alastair had never asked her to prove anything at all. Wisteria felt the truth of it settle as he spoke. The ritual had worked not because she'd mastered the magic through force, but because she'd finally stopped trying to. The phantom was gone, but the binding remained—solid and permanent in her chest. She looked at Alastair and realized the cost had been worth it. Her position beside him was unassailable now, not because the magic made her untouchable, but because she'd let herself be seen. The ring pulsed once more, then went silent. Sanguis Perpetua was complete. She had secured her immortal reign, but not in the way she'd imagined. Power didn't come from standing alone. It came from trusting someone enough to stand beside them. Wisteria squeezed his hand and felt him squeeze back. The ritual had taken her isolation and given her something stronger in return. She was bound to the magic, bound to the phantom, and bound to Alastair in ways she couldn't undo. But for the first time since arriving at Nightshade Grove, she didn't want to. The ancient blood magic had demanded everything she'd tried to protect—and in exchange, it had given her exactly what she needed.