Trust his brother to cut straight to the ugliest possibility. Ryxin had always been the cynical one—the one who saw betrayal coming three moves ahead because he assumed everyone played the game as ruthlessly as he did.
He wasn’t wrong.
“We don’t know if the ability is unique to Elsa or common to humans generally.” Sylas forced himself to think past the protective fury that wanted to shut down this entire discussion. “We don’t know what triggers it—whether it requires the Lux blessing she already carried, or contact with specific core types, or some factor we haven’t identified.”
“We need controlled testing,” Yarx said. “Once the fortress stabilizes. Once the Blood Moon passes and your position is secure. The other humans could be evaluated for similar abilities—carefully, safely, with full consent and medical oversight.”
A weighted pause. Yarx’s gaze dropped to his datapad, and something in his posture shifted—the careful stillness of a healer about to deliver news no one wanted to hear.
“Vask was already testing that theory.”
The words landed like stones in still water. Every male in the chamber went rigid.
“We recovered his records from the laboratory.” Yarx pulled up a new display—data logs, timestamps, clinical observations written in Vask’s meticulous hand. “He’d been exposing Rowan and Milo to corrupted cores for weeks. Forcing contact. Drawing blood samples. Documenting responses.”
Sylas’s claws scored fresh grooves into the table. “And?”
“Partial success.” Yarx enlarged a section of the data, though his voice carried more weight than any visual could. “Brief contact, small doses—the corruption faded. Not as dramatically as with Elsa, but measurably. Rowan showed stronger results than Milo.” He paused, the holographic light catching the grim set of his jaw. “Vask was escalating the exposure. Increasing duration. Pushing past safe thresholds. Trying to force the same response Elsa achieved naturally.”
“By torturing them.”
“By torturing them,” Yarx confirmed. “The blood extractions were attempts to isolate whatever compound produced the purification effect. The burns on Milo’s hands came from extended contact sessions—Vask wanted to see if prolonged exposure would amplify the ability.” His voice flattened. “It didn’t. It just caused tissue damage that nearly cost the boy his fingers.”
The chamber held its silence like a held breath.
Sylas let the implications settle into his bones. Vask had been right about one thing—humans could affect corrupted Moon Tears. The ability wasn’t unique to Elsa. But the priest’s methods had nearly destroyed the very subjects who proved his theory.
“Consent.” Oran’s tone made the word sound foreign. “You propose asking them—after what they’ve already endured.”
“I propose not repeating Vask’s mistakes.” Sylas let ice creep into his voice. “The previous administration treated these creatures as disposable resources. That approach led to a coup, a near-collapse of fortress security, and the death of your predecessor. Perhaps a different strategy is warranted.”
Oran’s composure held, but barely. The reminder of how Vask had died—torn apart by a king defending his mate—landed where Sylas had aimed it.
“The testing will be voluntary,” Sylas continued. “Any human who participates will receive full disclosure of risks and potential outcomes. Those who refuse will not be penalized. Those who participate will be compensated—protected status, expanded privileges, whatever they require.”
“And if they all refuse?” Ryxin asked.
“Then we learn what we can from Elsa alone—with her consent—and accept that some questions may remain unanswered.” Sylas held his brother’s gaze. “I won’t build our future on a foundation of forced experiments and broken trust. That path leads to the same rot Vask cultivated.”
Something shifted in Ryxin’s expression. Approval, maybe. Or understanding. The same calculation that had led him to protect Ari, defend her against court politics, challenge anyone who looked at her wrong.
Sylas had watched his brother soften over the past weeks. Ryxin had always been the sharper one—quick to suspicion, slow to trust anyone outside their family. But Ari had done something to him. A human female half his size, with no claws and no fangs and no defenses except the loyalty of a prince who’d kill empires for her safety.
Perhaps they’d always been fated to fall the same way. Two brothers brought to their knees by creatures that should have been prey.
“The realm has survived on Moon Tear power for generations,” Oran said quietly. “If humans can affect that power—cleanse it or corrupt it—they represent either our salvation or our destruction. The priesthood cannot ignore such stakes.”
“The priesthood will not be ignoring anything.” Sylas straightened to his full height, letting his presence fill the chamber. “You will be informed of any testing. You will be permitted to observe—from a distance, without interference. Your religious interpretations of the results will be heard and considered.” His voice dropped, carrying threat wrapped in courtesy. “But the decisions about how to proceed will bemine. Not yours.”
The silence stretched. Oran weighed his options—Sylas could see the calculation happening behind those patient eyes. Push back and risk confrontation with a king who’d already demonstrated willingness to destroy priests who challenged him. Or accept the limits being imposed and work within them.
“As you command, Alpha King.” The priest inclined his head. “The Church of Lux exists to serve the realm’s spiritual needs. We will trust in your judgment regarding...practical matters.”
The words were acceptance. The tone was anything but.
Sylas filed it away. Another threat to monitor. Another enemy wearing cooperation like camouflage.
“We’re done.” He deactivated the holographic displays with a gesture. “The Blood Moon rises soon. I expect all of you at the ceremonial grounds. Yarx—ensure the Tear Domes are staffed in case the ritual generates...complications.” His gaze moved to Ryxin. “Brother. Your presence at my flank would be noted by the court.”