The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 342: Love’s Last Embrace

William stood at the edge of the valley, his sharp eyes catching the glossy sheen that seemed to coat the entire landscape before him. A faint, eerie glow pulsed from the barrier, its surface shimmering with a malevolent energy that sent a chill down his spine. He had been to this valley many times, searching tirelessly for Jerrick, but never had he seen this barrier before. Something had changed. Whatever magic cloaked this place now was new, and it was dangerous.

His heart beat faster as he cautiously stepped closer, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. The bird that had led him here flapped its wings and took off into the night, leaving William alone with the dark energy that seemed to hum around him. In the distance, a familiar voice whispered through the air. His chest clenched, and he quickened his pace, the sound pulling him toward it.

As he approached, he saw her—Elena, standing under a towering tree, speaking to a figure draped in dark robes. The man’s presence was unsettling. His aura radiated malice, as though darkness had consumed him entirely. William’s breath caught in his throat as he crouched low, his wolf instincts urging him to remain hidden.

Elena, with her usual arrogance, was bragging about something, her chin tilted upward as if she owned the world. The man, his hands behind his back, flicked his fingers absently, as if conjuring something in secret. William’s eyes narrowed when he noticed a flicker of flame forming between the man’s hands. His pulse quickened.

Elena seemed oblivious to the growing threat. She continued to speak, her voice loud and haughty. "I’ll finish it," she declared, her pride evident in every word. "I’ll be the one to bring her and that man to the Council. They’ll see who truly deserves the honor."

She turned to leave, smug and self-satisfied. But the man, his rage barely contained, moved to attack. The flames between his fingers grew, and in an instant, he hurled the fireball toward her, his anger flaring as violently as the magic in his hands.

William’s body reacted before his mind could catch up. He lunged forward with all the strength his wolf form had granted him, his speed a blur through the shadows. He intercepted the attack just in time, slamming into the dark-robed man before the fire could reach Elena. The man stumbled back, but he recovered quickly, his fingers already working another deadly spell. William didn’t give him the chance.

In a blur of motion, they fought—claws against dark magic. The air crackled with energy as spells flew, but William’s raw power, sharpened by his desperation, overwhelmed the man. With a final, brutal strike, William drove his claws deep into the man’s chest, silencing him forever. The man fell to the ground, his body limp, the dark magic dissipating into the cold night air.

Breathing heavily, William stood over the fallen sorcerer. His heart still pounded, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He glanced up to find Elena staring at him, her eyes wide, her face pale. There was a flicker of gratitude in her expression, but it was fleeting. She was too prideful to admit that he had just saved her life.

"Aren’t you happy to see me?" William’s voice was calm, but there was a cutting edge to his words. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. Though Elena’s expression was guarded, her eyes betrayed her. She was shocked to see him—alive, standing before her after everything she had done. "You called me pathetic. And now? Who’s the one looking pathetic, seeing the man they tried to kill standing in front of them? I even saved your life, Elena."

Elena scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You’re delusional," she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. But William didn’t miss the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She was enjoying this—the attention, the drama. It was as though she thrived on the chaos she created, even if it put her life in danger.

"You’re closer to your dreams, I suppose," William said, his tone low and dangerous. He knew Elena too well. "What did they promise you? Something more spectacular than being the Grand Duchess of Ayberia?"

At his words, Elena froze. Her hands clenched the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles turning white. "Grand Duchess..." she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "Do I even have a chance now?" The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable. She had always wanted power, control—but now, doubt crept in, haunting her.

William could hear every word, even though she had spoken so softly. His heightened senses caught the tremble in her voice, the uncertainty that slipped through her carefully crafted mask. "The Aurelia Castle waits for its mistress," he said softly, stepping closer. "You’d be the highest of all—only the King and Queen would stand above you. You wouldn’t have to bow to anyone else."

Elena slowly turned to face him, her defenses crumbling for a moment. In that brief instant, William saw her as she once was—the young, naïve girl he had fallen in love with. His heart wavered, seeing the tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

He moved to her side, his voice tender as he whispered, "Elena..." His heart ached as he reached for her, hoping—begging—that there was still a way to turn back. "Will you stop this madness now? Can we go back to what we once were?"

For a moment, hope flickered in his chest. Elena closed the distance between them, her hands resting gently on his chest. William’s guard dropped, his shoulders loosening as he gazed into her eyes, searching for any sign that she might still care. Her touch felt familiar, and for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to believe that things could be different.

"William... dearest William..." Elena’s voice trembled, and she leaned into his embrace. William wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his heart full of longing.

But then, her voice shifted—cold and sharp, a dagger hidden beneath the sweetness. "You still don’t understand..." she whispered, her breath hot against his chest. "I don’t want to bow to anyone!"

A sharp pain shot through William’s back, the searing burn of betrayal as Elena drove a silver dagger into him. The blade, coated with Wolfgang poison, pierced through his skin, lodging itself just above his heart.

His breath hitched as blood dripped onto the forest floor, the sound deafening in the silence that followed.

Tears rolled down his eyes. "Elena... My dearest Elena..." he said as he staggered, as blood wet his clothes.