The mansion's kitchen smelled like burnt toast and fear. Ava stared at her plate, pushing eggs around with a fork, while Alexander paced behind her, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Nothing. No records of Void-Wraith killings. No weaknesses. Nada." He slammed the phone down, making Elena jump. "My family's kept this thing locked up for 300 years and left no notes? Not even a 'how to stab it' memo?"
Ava looked up, her fork clattering. "Because they didn't want it dead. They wanted it contained. Mathias's note said the baby's blood sets it free. Why would that matter unless—"
"Unless someone in the family planned to use it." Alexander's jaw tightened. "Power. Control. My ancestors weren't saints, Ava."
Elena, who'd been typing furiously on her laptop, sighed. "Found this. Newspaper clipping, 1897. Headline: 'Blackwood Heir Found Dead, Throat Ripped by "Wild Beast"'." She turned the screen so they could see. "Witnesses said the heir was messing with 'ancient magic' in the cellar the night before."
Ava's stomach flipped. "They tried to free it. And it killed them."
The cellar door creaked.
Not creaked—scraped. As if something was dragging its claws across the wood.
Alexander grabbed his gun, silver bullets loaded, and motioned for them to stay back. "Stay here."
Ava ignored him, grabbing a kitchen knife, its blade glinting under the lights. "We go together."
The door trembled, wood splintering around the lock.
"Whatever's in there, it's stronger than the runes," Elena said, her voice shaking.
Alexander kicked the door open, and they froze.
The cellar stairs were empty. But on the top step, written in what looked like tar, was a message:
"Three days. The veil thins. I will take what is mine."
Ava's hand flew to her stomach. "Three days. The lunar eclipse."
Alexander cursed. "The veil between worlds is weakest then. It's how Morrigan got through. How the Shadow Clan—"
"—how the Void-Wraith will break free." Ava finished, her throat dry.
That afternoon, they moved the pack to the safe house—a concrete bunker in the mountains, built during the Cold War, lined with silver and iron. Alexander posted guards at every entrance, while Ava and Elena pored over Elias's journals, searching for answers.
"Nothing about eclipses," Elena said, slamming a book shut. "Just more prophecies. 'When light and shadow converge, the child will choose.' Choose what? Pizza toppings? World domination?"
Ava laughed, but it felt forced. "Maybe both. This kid's already got a flair for drama." She winced as the baby kicked, harder than usual, a burst of golden light flickering under her skin.
Alexander walked in, his face grim. "Two wolves didn't show up. Their tracks lead back to the mansion. To the cellar."
Ava stood. "They're dead."
"Or worse." He held up a scrap of fabric, black with a silver stain. "Shadow Clan. They're working with the Wraith. Feeding it, making it stronger."
That night, Ava dreamed of the cellar. The Void-Wraith pressed against the cage, its shadowy form seeping through the bars, whispering in her ear.
"Your child is mine. But I will trade. Give me the sun-blood, and I'll spare it. Let me taste your light, Ava Thompson."
She woke gasping, her wrist burning. The silver mark had spread, snaking up her arm like a vine.
Alexander sat up, his hand on her back. "Bad dream?"
"More like a sales pitch." She showed him her arm. "It wants a deal. My light for the baby's life."
He grabbed her wrist, his touch gentle but firm. "No. We find another way."
Ava pulled him close, her forehead on his chest. "What if there isn't one? What if I have to—"
"Then we die together." He tilted her chin up, his eyes fierce. "No deals. No sacrifices. We fight."
The next morning, Elena burst into their room, holding a journal. "Found it! Mathias's private diary. Hidden in the mausoleum's wall. He wrote about 'sun-blooded women'—descendants of a witch burned in 1692. A witch who cursed the Void-Wraith, trapped it here. Her bloodline? Yours, Ava. You're not just moon-blood. You're sun-blood, too. That's why the light hurts it."
Ava's breath caught. "A witch. My ancestor was a witch."
"Not just any witch." Elena pointed to a passage. "She was Mathias's wife. He betrayed her, handed her over to the Coven. Then used her blood to trap the Wraith. To control it."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "My family's rot runs deeper than I thought."
Ava closed the journal. "Then we end it. The Wraith, the curse, all of it. At the eclipse."
They returned to the mansion at dawn, the pack in tow, weapons loaded. The front door hung open, a trail of blood leading to the cellar.
"Trap," Alexander muttered.
Ava nodded. "Good. We're bringing the party to them."
The cellar was chaos. Shadow Clan members lay scattered, their bodies dissolving into shadows, their blood feeding the cage. The Void-Wraith pressed against the bars, its form almost solid, howling as the eclipse light seeped through the windows.
"Took you long enough," it said, its voice a chorus of whispers. "I was starting to think you'd abandoned your pets."
Two wolves stepped from the shadows, their eyes black, shadows crawling over their fur. The missing pack members.
"Release them," Alexander said, shifting.
The Wraith laughed. "They're mine now. Just like the child will be."
Ava stepped forward, golden light blazing. "Let's make a new deal. I give you my light. All of it. But you leave them alone. Forever."
"Ava, no!" Alexander roared.
The Wraith tilted its head, as if considering. "All of it? Your magic, your life force, your very soul? You'd become a husk. Empty."
"Yes." She took a step closer, the golden light pulsing. "But my child lives. The pack lives. Deal?"
"Deal."
The cage bars dissolved. The Wraith lunged, and Ava closed her eyes, embracing the light—warm, bright, alive.
But instead of pain, she felt a surge. The baby kicked, a burst of golden light exploding from her stomach, slamming into the Wraith. It screeched, its form unraveling, as the light burned through it.
"Betrayal!" it shrieked, dissolving into smoke.
The shadow wolves collapsed, their eyes clearing, confusion replacing the darkness.
Ava fell to her knees, her light fading, her body weak. Alexander caught her, his arms around her.
"How?" he whispered.
Ava smiled, touching her stomach. "Not just my light. Ours."
The pack cheered as the eclipse ended, sunlight streaming through the cellar windows.
Elena helped Ava stand, grinning. "Told you this kid's got flair."
Ava laughed, wincing as the baby kicked again. "Yeah. And I think we're gonna need a bigger bunker."
Alexander kissed her, soft and slow. "Whatever you need. Always."
But as they left the cellar, Ava glanced back. A wisp of shadow clung to the wall, vanishing as she met its gaze.
The Wraith was gone. For now.
But some deals, she knew, were never truly broken.