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CHAPTER 8 — "The Price of the Spell"
The silence in Leo's room was anything but peaceful.
It was heavy. Dense. The kind that pressed against the chest and made breathing a conscious, uncomfortable act. The curtains were drawn, allowing only a thin thread of night light to slip in from the palace gardens. The main lamp remained unlit; only a few minor magical lights floated near the desk, flickering unevenly.
Leo was sitting on the floor.
Not on the bed.
Not on the chair.
On the cold floor, his back resting against the side of the desk, legs stretched out carelessly, head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling— as if it might give him answers.
His breathing was slow… but strained.
In front of him lay chaos.
Papers scattered everywhere: diagrams of magic circles, rushed notes, ancient symbols crossed out and rewritten again and again. Some were stained with dried drops of dark—almost black—blood. Others bore faint burn marks, as if they had failed at the very last second.
Among the papers were vials.
Small ones. Medium ones. Some made of clear glass, others opaque, sealed with arcane sigils that pulsed weakly. Inside them, liquids of impossible colors: ashen green, milky blue, thick crimson.
Medicine.
Not for the plague.
Not for the people.
For him.
Leo ran a hand through his black hair, messing it up even more. His fingers trembled for just a second before curling into a fist.
"Damn it…" he muttered.
His magic circuit burned.
It wasn't sharp pain— it was worse. A constant internal pressure, as if his own mana refused to flow properly. Every time he tried to channel even the simplest spell, he felt that invisible resistance, that blockage that hadn't existed before.
He was broken.
Not completely… but enough.
The spell.
He closed his eyes.
He could still remember with perfect clarity the exact moment he had cast it. It hadn't been impulsive, despite what many would think. He had calculated it. Measured it. Rewritten it for years. An absolute spatial spell— one that didn't just cross distances, but layers of reality itself.
A spell only someone of his bloodline could even attempt.
Because in magic, everyone was born with a dominant affinity.
But every mage… had one supreme spell.
Only one.
The most powerful.
The most dangerous.
The one that defined their life… or destroyed it.
Leo's was not common teleportation.
Not opening portals.
Not folding space.
It was summoning a specific existence from another world.
Not an object.
Not energy.
A person.
He had known from the beginning that the price would be extreme.
But he had no choice.
"If I fail… more will die," he murmured, pressing a hand to his chest.
The plague wouldn't wait.
Every day, more wolfkin lost their strength. More collapsed. More hearts slowed to a stop, as if the world itself were rejecting them. And the worst part was the indifference of the nobility: because it didn't affect them directly, because it didn't touch royalty, the issue was buried under layers of politics, excuses, and silence.
Leo clenched his teeth.
He had seen the future.
Not a fixed one.
Not a clear one.
Fragments.
Shadows.
In all of them, time was running out.
And in nearly all of them… Ana was there.
A human.
A legend.
A myth that, in this world, didn't even exist.
And yet, the only one with the potential to break the established rules of magic. Because she wasn't connected to magic like other species. She didn't receive it naturally.
She had to force it to exist.
And that… took time.
Too much time.
Leo slammed his fist into the floor.
"Six months…" he whispered with a dry laugh. "Six months if everything goes perfectly."
Ana was like a newborn in this world. Not because she was weak— but because she was starting from nothing. Where a wolfkin was born mastering one element, she would have to learn four. Earth. Water. Fire. Air. Not out of ambition… but because balance demanded it.
And he…
He couldn't teach her.
Not like this.
His damaged magic didn't just limit his offensive or spatial abilities. It affected his capacity to guide, to resonate with other magical cores. Every attempt at deep instruction left him dizzy, nauseous, with the sensation that something inside him was slowly tearing apart.
His parents could never know.
Never.
The Emperor would confine him indefinitely for treatment.
And the Empress…
He was afraid to even imagine what she would do.
And that would be the end.
Because if anyone examined his magic circuit closely… they would find the trace of the spell. Proof that he had crossed dimensions. That other worlds existed. That he had brought a human here.
A truth the kingdom was not ready to face.
Leo covered his face with both hands.
For the first time since Ana had arrived, his mask cracked completely.
Fear caught up with him.
"What if it's not enough…?" he whispered.
What if Ana couldn't progress in time?
What if her body couldn't withstand the magic?
What if her obsession— as intense as it was— wasn't sufficient?
More people would die.
Because of him.
Because he had bet everything on a single possibility.
Leo's breathing quickened.
His vision blurred.
Exhaustion, stress, constant pain— it all crashed down on him at once. He tried to stand, using the desk for support, but his legs failed him. The world spun violently.
"No… not now…" he murmured, but it was too late.
His body gave out.
He fell to the side, papers crumpling beneath his weight, a vial rolling until it struck the wall. His mind remained awake, trapped in a storm of thoughts, calculations, futures he could no longer control.
Then… nothing.
Sleep took him without permission.
It wasn't rest.
It was a blackout.
When he woke, dawn light filtered softly through the window. Distant birdsong filled the air. Leo blinked, confused, until memory returned.
He sat up slowly.
The pain was still there.
But his face… was calm.
He stood, stretched his shoulders, ran his hands through his black hair, and took a deep breath. He walked to the mirror and studied his reflection: serene golden eyes, flawless pale skin, wolfkin ears, a relaxed expression.
The crown prince.
A carefree smile returned to his lips as if it had never left.
"Alright…" he murmured. "Another day."
He straightened his posture and hid his ears.
Outside, the world was waiting.
And no one was allowed to know how much he was losing just to hold it together.
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