CHAPTER 250: _HE’S STILL MINE

Garrick’s POV

*****

Somewhere in Arcadia.

The manor loomed over the crimson valley like a relic from another age.

Inside, the air shimmered faintly with magic— remnants of the spells woven into every stone, every shadow.

Garrick stood before the tall arched windows of the throne chamber, hands clasped behind his back, still wearing Axel’s skin. The same sharp jawline, the same golden eyes — except his eyes now gleamed with an older light.

Behind him, Amara lounged on her throne like a goddess of ruin — her black gown cascading in waves around her, her long black hair shimmering faintly under the faint glow of the red chandeliers above.

"Kyren grows arrogant," Garrick said finally, his tone flat but his jaw tight. "You coddle him too much, Amara. He’s forgotten what it means to obey."

Amara’s lips curved. "He’s not a child, Garrick. He’s the ruler of the Dark Lands now. You should be proud, not jealous."

He turned then, his eyes narrowing. "Proud? He defied your command to hand in the moon blessed. He meddles in affairs he barely understands. The boy still has your softness buried in there — your sentimentality."

Amara tilted her head slightly. "And he has your temper. A dangerous combination, isn’t it?"

The jab made Garrick’s lips twitch. For a heartbeat, amusement glinted in his eyes. "Perhaps. But sentiment is a weakness neither of you can afford."

Amara rose from her throne in one graceful motion, the hem of her gown flowing across the floor as she descended the steps.

"You mistake compassion for weakness again, my love." Her tone softened, though her eyes were sharp. "Kyren carries both our legacies. He will play his part when the time comes."

Garrick turned back toward the window, watching the distant horizon. "You think he’ll obey when that time comes? He barely listens to you now."

"He will," she said simply. "Because despite everything, he still wants your approval."

A humorless chuckle escaped him.

"Approval." He rolled the word in his mouth like it tasted foreign. "He doesn’t need approval. He needs purpose. And if he refuses to find one..."

He trailed off. His reflection in the window smiled coldly. "...I’ll give him one."

Amara sighed softly. "Always the tyrant."

Garrick finally faced her, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "And yet, you married me."

Her answering smile was slow. "Oh, so you remember."

Their gazes held, clashing in the dim light. Then, suddenly, he laughed darkly, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine. Play the merciful mother if you wish. But I have other matters to attend to. The wards surrounding the Lunarian palace... they’re beginning to recognize me."

Amara’s brows lifted slightly. "You mean—"

"Yes," Garrick interrupted, pride threading his voice. "The old magi tech enchantments are folding under my control. Soon, every ward and barrier around that palace will answer to me."

He raised a hand, and faint lines of sickly green light crawled up his wrist, sparking against the false skin he wore. "It’s only a matter of time before I can walk right through their walls without anyone noticing."

"Always so impatient," Amara mused. "But tell me, does this obsession stem from our plan or your bond?"

At that, Garrick’s smile faded slightly. His gaze dropped to his hand which then clenched into a fist.

"I can still feel him," he muttered. "Elian. Even now through the mate bond. His emotions... they slip through the cracks sometimes." His voice dropped lower, almost reverent. "When he’s angry. When he’s afraid. When he thinks of me."

"Do you miss him?" Amara asked quietly.

He looked up, smirking faintly, though his eyes were haunted. "Miss him? Perhaps. But that doesn’t matter. He’s still mine, Amara. He always will be."

Silence.

Then, slowly, Amara crossed the distance between them. Her fingers brushed his cheek, tracing the edge of Axel’s stolen face with deliberate tenderness.

"You speak as if you’ve forgotten who you’re truly bound to," she whispered, her voice honeyed but sharp.

Garrick’s smirk returned, though softer this time, almost indulgent. "You think I could forget?"

Her eyes shimmered faintly red as she rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was slow and when she pulled back, the faintest thread of shadow magic lingered between them like smoke.

"Good," she murmured. "Because I would hate to remind you the hard way."

Before he could answer, the air shimmered with a pulse of energy. A holographic screen unfolded in the air beside them, casting pale light across the chamber.

Amara turned to it, eyes narrowing slightly. "He’s back."

On the screen, Kyren’s battle craft descended onto the crimson soil of the Dark Lands, dust and smoke spiraling up around it. Dozens of armored soldiers knelt as the craft’s ramp lowered, their voices rising in a chorus of reverence.

Garrick’s grin returned. "Our son returns home."

He turned to Amara, voice thick with anticipation. "Shall we welcome him properly?"

She smiled faintly. "Patience, my love."

Another pulse of energy shimmered beside the first screen. A second hologram bloomed into view — this one showing a completely different scene.

A familiar crystal dome restaurant.

And at its center — Elian and Lucian.

The two sat close, their hands intertwined, their faces inches apart. Then Lucian leaned in and kissed him. The moment froze on-screen.

For a moment, there was silence in the throne room.

Then Amara’s lips curved into a knowing smile. "And there it is."

Garrick didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on the image, the bond between him and Elian humming faintly under his skin, twisting and burning.

"He still loves me," Garrick said softly. "Even if he doesn’t realize it."

Amara turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Perhaps. But love alone won’t save him." She stepped closer, her hand finding his arm. "You said you could still feel him. Then you must have felt it too. The pull. The resonance."

Garrick’s jaw tightened. "Yes."

"The heart jewel," she continued. "It’s starting to react. It’s only a matter of time before it does exactly what we designed it to do."

His gaze flicked toward her. "And when it does?"

Her smile darkened. "The moon-blessed will be ours."

She reached up, trailing her fingers along his jaw again. "All the pieces are falling into place. The Lunarian Prince, the corrupted wards, our son’s return..."

Her voice lowered to a near-whisper.

"...soon, the heart that binds them all will break. And when it does, the world will finally know the name Garrick Ironclaw."

Garrick’s smirk sharpened, eyes glinting with a cold light.

"Then let it begin."

The screens flickered once more... one showing Kyren stepping onto the blood-red ground of his homeland, the other freezing on Elian’s flushed face as Lucian kissed him.

The two images overlapped for a moment, their light merging — red and violet — before both screens faded into static.

Garrick turned toward the window again, his reflection splitting faintly in the glass as his borrowed form shimmered.

"Welcome home, my son," he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "And goodbye, my love."

The manor lights dimmed, the air crackling with power as he lifted his hand.

Somewhere far away, in the heart of Lunaria — a purple crystal bracelet pulsed once.

And then, for the first time, it skipped a beat.