Chapter 135: The Marks of Resolve
Thelma Zane’s POV
I pressed on, trying to convince my father of my plan, my words carrying an edge of desperation. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and helplessness as he finally asked, ” Even if I were to agree, what can you possibly achieve in your current condition? You’re barely strong enough to sit up. Moving you anywhere would just mean transferring the tubes and machines keeping you alive to a different location.‘
“I know,” I replied firmly, refusing to waver. “But I also believe there’s a way to at least slow down this mutation temporarily. If the purification rune can purify my blood through the conduits, why can’t we engrave it onto my body or even my soul? Maybe that will buy us the
time we need.”
The shock on my father’s face was immediate and unfiltered. “This is reckless and
dangerous!” he exclaimed, his voice rising with concern. “Absolutely not. Such a thing could permanently harm you.”
“But isn’t Dorothy undergoing something similar?” I countered. “The purification runes are drawn on her face to seal her power, aren’t they? I’m no weaker than her. If she can bear it, why can’t I?”
My father shook his head vehemently. “Dorothy’s runes are superficial–they don’t cut into her body or soul. What you’re suggesting is far more invasive. The scars from such runes would never fade. They’d stay with you for the rest of your life, marking you in ways you can’t imagine.”
I paused, absorbing his words. The thought of bearing such scars, both physically and spiritually, was daunting. No one wished to be permanently marred, least of all someone who had grown up valuing beauty and grace. But in that moment, I realized that there were far more important things than appearances.
“Father,” I began softly, my voice steady and resolute, “you’ve always said that scars are the true medals of a warrior. They are marks of courage, proof that one has faced and overcome adversity. How can I call myself a warrior, a protector of this kingdom, if I shy away from pain
and sacrifice?
“I won’t lie–I do care about my appearance. I’m proud of who I am, and no girl can say they don’t take pride in their face. But I care more about what I stand for. If bearing these scars means proving my courage, my determination, and my resolve to fight for what matters, then so be it. I will not let fear hold me back.”
To punctuate my words, I raised my hand to my cheek and allowed my sharp nails to graze my skin. Blood trickled from the small cut, and with it, I could feel the faint, ominous pull of the dark aura within me. It was a reminder of what awaited me if I did nothing.
Chapter 115 The Marks of fieolve
I met my father’s shocked gaze with unwavering determination. “This is the first stroke of my rune,” I said firmly. “The first step toward proving that I am ready to face whatever comes next.”
For a long moment, my father was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was tinged with reluctant admiration. “You remind me of myself when I was younger,” he said. “Reckless, impulsive, but filled with boundless courage. I’ve suffered for that recklessness, but it’s also shaped me into the man I am today.”
He sighed deeply, the lines of worry etched into his face softening just a little. “Very well. I’ll speak to the werewolf grandmasters and see if such a method is even possible.”
“And if they agree?” I asked, unable to keep the spark of hope out of my voice.
“Then I’ll support you,” he said, his smile bittersweet. He reached out to touch my hair, ignoring the maze of tubes and wires. “You are my daughter, Thelma. Whatever path you choose, I will always stand by you.”
Before I could respond, another voice broke the moment.
And so will I, Your Majesty,” the voice declared.
I turned to see Dorothy sitting up in her bed. Though her eyes were still covered by gauze and purification runes, she held herself with a quiet strength that belied her condition.
“Dorothy?” I whispered, surprised and concerned.
“I’ll bear the runes as well,” she said firmly, addressing both me and my father. “As your friend and follower, Thelma, it’s only right that I match your courage and determination
Her words took me aback. I opened my mouth to protest, but she raised a hand to silence me.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she continued. “That I’m not strong enough, that I shouldn’t put myself in danger. But let me remind you, Thelma–I’m a sorcerer and a werewolf. I am the master of the Eye of Insight, and I have dreams of becoming one of the greatest in both realms. How can I achieve that if I shy away from pain and hardship?
“Leviathan gave us a warning, or perhaps a challenge. If she told us to seek answers in the Rocky Mountains, then there’s something there that we need to uncover, I won’t let you face that alone. This is my fight too.”
Her resolve was as fierce as mine, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Dorothy was right–she had always been strong–willed and independent, someone who faced adversity head–on. But I couldn’t help worrying about her. She had already lost so much.
My father, however, seemed to understand her determination. He nodded solemnly. “You’re both incredibly stubborn, just like your mothers,” he said, his tone a mix of pride and exasperation. “If this is the path you’ve chosen, then I won’t stand in your way. But know this -you’ll need more than courage to see this through. You’ll need wisdom, discipline, and the
Marks of detailve
support of those who care about you.!
Dorothy and I exchanged a glance, an unspoken agreement passing between us. We were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, no matter the cost. The road would be long and filled with uncertainty, but we would walk it together.
As I looked at my father and Dorothy, a sense of determination settled over me. The scars we would bear, both visible and hidden, would be marks of our resolve. They would tell the story of who we were and what we were willing to sacrifice for the greater good.
And no matter what awaited us in the Rocky Mountains, we would face it head–on, unyielding and unafraid.
