The golden light lingered under Ava's skin like a second pulse, warm and strange. She stood in Alexander's study, watching him pace, his boots scuffing the floorboards he'd polished himself last week.
"Shadow Clan doesn't act alone," he said, pausing to glare at the map spread across his desk. Red pins marked where their scouts had spotted black smoke—Shadow Clan magic. "Lilith mentioned 'tipping the balance.' Someone's pulling their strings."
Ava traced the silver mark on her wrist, now faint but still there. "Your dad's journals say anything about golden light? Sunlight magic?"
He shook his head, tossing a journal onto the desk. "Just moon-blood. Curses. Bloodlines. Nothing about sunshine and rainbows."
Her laugh came out brittle. "Funny. I feel like a glow stick someone shook too hard. Every time the baby moves, the light burns."
Alexander crossed the room, his hands resting on her hips, his forehead pressed to hers. "We'll figure it out. Whatever this is, we—"
The study door creaked. Elena stood in the doorway, holding a book bound in black leather, her face pale. "Found this in Elias's things. Thought it was just a spell book, but…" She flipped it open, pointing to a sketch—Ava, lying on an altar, a golden light pouring from her stomach, a shadowy figure looming over her. "Dated 1692. The same year the Coven cursed the moon-blood line."
Ava's fingers went numb. "That's not possible. It's just a drawing."
"Look at the name." Elena tapped the corner. "Signed by Mathias Blackwood. Your great-great-great-grandfather, Alexander."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "My family's always had secrets. But this—"
"Is a prophecy." Ava closed the book, her heart racing. "Or a warning. Either way, it's about me. About the baby."
That night, Ava woke to a cold hand on her stomach. She jolted upright, silver light flaring, and froze.
Elias stood beside the bed, his skin gray, his eyes empty. Not Elias. Something wearing his face.
"Blood of the sun," it said, its voice a rattle. "Blood of the moon. The child will bridge the divide. We will feast."
Ava screamed, and the figure dissolved into smoke. Alexander was instantly awake, his wolf form half-risen, claws bared.
"What happened?"
"Elias. Or… something that looked like him." She clung to him, her body shaking. "It talked about the baby. Said they'd feast on it."
Alexander shifted back, pulling her close. "We're leaving. Now. Going to the safe house in the mountains."
Ava shook her head. "No. Running won't help. Whatever this is, it's tied to me. To your family. To all of us."
She grabbed the black book, flipping to the prophecy. "Mathias Blackwood. Where is he buried?"
"Blackwood Cemetery. On the east side of the reserve. Why?"
"Because I think he left us a message. And I'm gonna find it."
The cemetery was overgrown, headstones tilted, moss creeping over names. Alexander helped Ava over a fallen tree, his hand never leaving hers, as Elena scanned the area with a flashlight.
"Mathias Blackwood… 1650–1702," she read, pointing to a mausoleum at the back, its door hanging off its hinges. "Creepy. Perfect."
Inside, the air smelled of rot and dust. A stone coffin sat in the center, its lid carved with wolves and suns.
Ava ran her hand over the carvings. "Suns. Not moons. Mathias knew about the golden light."
She pushed the lid, and it shifted with a groan. Inside, no body—just a leather pouch, its contents clinking.
Alexander emptied it into his palm: a key, a vial of black liquid, and a note, yellowed with age.
"If you're reading this, the child is coming. The Void-Wraith will sense it—half light, half shadow, a bridge to our world. The key unlocks the cellar. The liquid binds it. But beware—once bound, it will hunger for the child's blood. For it is the only thing that can set it free."
Ava's breath hitched. "Void-Wraith. What is that?"
"Old magic. Older than the Coven. A creature made of pure shadow, trapped between worlds. Feeds on light. On life." Alexander's voice was tight. "My family spent centuries keeping it locked away. Looks like we failed."
The ground rumbled, and the mausoleum door slammed shut, plunging them into darkness.
"Great," Elena muttered, fumbling for her flashlight. "Just great."
Ava's silver light flared, illuminating the room. Something moved in the corner—a mass of shadows, writhing, stretching into a shape like a wolf, but with eyes of pure darkness.
"The Void-Wraith," Alexander said, shifting, his wolf form massive in the small space. "Ava, run."
Ava didn't run. She stepped forward, golden light blazing, and the creature hissed, retreating.
"It's afraid of the sun light," she said.
"Good. Use it."
Ava unleashed a wave of golden light, and the creature screamed, dissolving into a puddle of shadow. But as it vanished, a voice echoed in her head—hungry, desperate.
"The child is mine. I will have it."
The door flew open, and they stumbled out, gasping.
Alexander shifted back, his chest heaving. "We need to find that cellar. Now."
The key fit a lock on a stone door behind the mansion's kitchen, hidden by ivy. Alexander pulled it open, and a staircase descended into darkness, its walls lined with torches.
"Creepy cellar, check," Elena said, lighting a torch. "When does this day get better?"
The cellar was bigger than Ava expected—a stone chamber, its walls covered in runes, a cage in the center, its bars glowing silver.
And in the corner, a pedestal, holding a black orb, its surface swirling like smoke.
"The Void-Wraith's prison," Alexander said.
Ava held up the vial. "The liquid binds it. Let's do this."
She poured the liquid over the orb, and it hissed, smoke billowing. The runes on the walls flared, and the cage shook.
Then, a scream—high, inhuman—echoed through the cellar.
The orb shattered, and the Void-Wraith emerged, its form solid now, a wolf of shadow, its teeth bared. It lunged at Ava, and she raised her hand, golden light blazing.
It screeched, but didn't retreat. Instead, it circled her, its eyes fixed on her stomach.
"Mine," it growled.
Alexander tackled it, and they rolled across the floor, shadows and fur flying.
"Now, Ava!" he yelled.
Ava grabbed the cage, slamming it shut around the creature. It thrashed, howling, as the runes glowed, binding it.
But as it stilled, it locked eyes with Ava, and she felt it—a connection, a hunger, a promise.
"I will wait. And when the child is born, I will come."
Ava stepped back, her legs shaking.
Alexander pulled her close, his face buried in her hair. "It's over. For now."
Ava nodded, but she didn't believe it. The Void-Wraith's words echoed in her head, and her stomach fluttered—as if the baby agreed.
Elena locked the cellar door, her hands shaking. "So. We just locked up a ancient shadow monster that wants to eat your baby. Any other plans for the day?"
Ava smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Breakfast. Then we figure out how to kill a Void-Wraith."
Alexander kissed her forehead. "Together."
But as they climbed the stairs, Ava touched her stomach, the golden light pulsing.
She knew the truth. The Void-Wraith wasn't just after the baby. It was after her.
And it wasn't going to stop.