Chapter 0432

"I possess healing abilities as well." Oberon extends his palm toward me. "Try sensing my energy."

I glance at the others before stepping forward, placing my hand lightly over his. "Reach out with your strength. If you truly are a Guardian of the Realm, you should be able to draw from my power as easily as you do from your sisters."

Now I understand why Oberon studied me so intently earlier. He was weighing the risk—whether he could trust me with this level of control over him. If I learn to siphon his energy, I could drain him or twist it for my own purposes. This is a gamble, one that speaks volumes given the strained history between fae and werewolves. The weight of his trust settles heavily in my chest.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the warmth of his skin. Aurora surges forward, guiding me as we gently probe for his aura. "Yours is green," I murmur.

"The color of the earth, where my power originates," he replies. "Now seek the layer of yellow within it."

It feels like navigating through the hues of a rainbow—searching for the next shade. Red, orange, yellow, green... I shift my awareness until the green lightens, giving way to a golden glow. "Found it," I say, opening my eyes to find Oberon watching me with sharp interest.

"Fascinating. No one has ever maneuvered through an aura like that before. Now, take hold of the yellow."

I do, pulling it into myself just as Oberon gestures to Victor. He produces a silver knife and offers it to him.

"This will test your mate’s ability to channel my healing. Silver wounds heal slowly for your kind—let’s see if she can accelerate it."

Victor meets my gaze. "Ready?"

I nod.

The blade flashes, splitting his palm open. Blood wells up, and I press my hand over the wound.

"Direct the yellow into his injury," Oberon instructs.

With Aurora’s guidance, I push the energy forward. A faint golden light emanates from my fingers, knitting his flesh back together. The moment it’s done, exhaustion slams into me like a physical blow. My legs buckle, and Victor catches me before I hit the ground, cradling me against his chest.

"What’s wrong with her?" His voice is tight with concern.

"She’s drained herself. She needs food and something sweet to drink."

Victor barks an order to Rosalind, who rushes off.

"I’m fine," I mumble, though my limbs feel like lead. "Just... tired."

"Can’t you heal her?" Victor demands.

Oberon shakes his head. "This isn’t an injury. Her body needs to recover naturally—to learn its limits."

While I rest, Seraphina steps forward. "My turn?"

"I can’t see colors like she does," Seraphina admits. "When I draw power, it’s just raw energy. No blending."

Oberon turns to Isolde, but Sebastian cuts in before he can speak. "Don’t even think about it."

With a nod, Oberon refocuses on Seraphina. "Can you distinguish between strength and healing?"

"I’m not sure."

"Let’s find out."

Rosalind returns with a tray of food and a sugary drink for me. As I eat, we watch Seraphina attempt to isolate Oberon’s healing energy. Her breathing grows labored, her movements sluggish. Adrian moves behind her, bracing her with his hands on her shoulders.

"I think... I’ve got it," she pants.

Oberon withdraws his hand, and she sags. Adrian sweeps her up, carrying her back to the seating area.

"That’s enough for today," Oberon declares. "We’ll reconvene tomorrow to work on mind-linking. If energy permits, we’ll attempt this again."

Seraphina nibbles at her food, sipping her drink until color returns to her cheeks. By dinner, we’re both restored—but the lesson lingers. Power isn’t just about strength.

It’s about trust.

And control.