The rain poured endlessly, soaking through Ezra's robes as he stood at the very edge of the moss-covered steps leading down to the ruined ancestral shrine. A thick mist rolled in from the darkened forest, curling around the crumbling stone pillars and vines like serpents—silent, waiting, watching.
"I told you not to come alone," Quinn's voice broke through the hush, sharp as steel yet filled with unease.
Ezra didn't turn. His gaze was fixed on the faint red glow emerging from within the shrine's heart—a seal, etched centuries ago, now pulsing weakly like a dying ember.
"I couldn't wait," Ezra said. "The dreams are getting stronger. He's calling me again."
Quinn stepped closer, his boots sinking into the mud. "You mean the spirit? The one who's been haunting you since the Autumn Festival?"
Ezra gave a tight nod. "He said the time is near. That the pact must be fulfilled. That I—"
"That you belong to him," Quinn finished, his voice laced with bitterness.
The silence between them was deafening.
Inside the shrine, the air shimmered. The red light brightened, revealing the spectral form of a young man, draped in centuries-old ceremonial garb, his eyes empty yet piercing.
Ezra took a shaky step forward.
"Ezra!" Quinn grabbed his arm. "Don't!"
But Ezra shook free. "It's the only way to break the curse on this place. On me. You know it."
As Ezra entered, the spirit lifted a hand. The air grew frigid, crackling with ancient energy.
"You returned," the spirit whispered, its voice like rustling leaves in the wind. "Did you remember… our vow?"
Ezra hesitated. He did remember—flashes of a past life, a forbidden love, and a promise made beneath the blood moon.
"I… I think I do."
"You swore," the spirit said, floating closer, "to wait for me. To find me again. Even if it meant crossing lifetimes."
Quinn stood at the threshold, watching the scene unfold with clenched fists. He could feel the surge of energy pulling Ezra deeper, threatening to consume him whole.
"You can't trust it!" he shouted. "It's a vengeful spirit, Ezra! It'll use your body!"
The spirit turned, eyes flaring with fury. "You speak of trust when it was your bloodline that betrayed me?!"
Ezra's breath caught. Quinn's ancestors—yes, the lore did say they were the ones who sealed the spirit in the first place.
Quinn's voice softened. "I didn't know… I didn't choose that past. But I won't let it claim him."
The spirit hissed, then turned back to Ezra. "Do you still love me?"
Ezra's voice shook. "I don't know what this is—if it's love, or guilt, or some bond I don't understand—but I know I'm not afraid anymore."
The spirit reached out, his cold hand brushing Ezra's chest. A burning mark seared through Ezra's robes—a sigil, ancient and binding.
"You are mine now," it whispered. "Until the curse is broken, or time ends."
Ezra gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his chest. The mark glowed faintly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
Quinn rushed forward, catching him. "What did it do to you?!"
Ezra looked up, pain and wonder in his eyes. "It tied me to him… to the shrine. If I leave… he suffers."
Quinn's jaw clenched. "Then we stay. We'll find a way to free you both."
The spirit lingered, watching, unreadable. Then slowly, it faded into the mist, whispering only:
"Remember… the moonlight pact."
Outside, the rain stopped.
But the curse had only just begun.
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