The night stretched endlessly as they ran.
The forest thinned, giving way to jagged cliffs and wild grass that glimmered silver under the moonlight. Seraphina's boots skidded against loose stones as she tried to keep up with Fenris's long, powerful strides. He moved like a shadow — fast, silent, relentless — but she could feel his exhaustion in the bond that pulsed between them. His strength was faltering, no matter how well he tried to hide it.
"Slow down," she hissed, clutching a stitch in her side. "Not all of us have wolf blood."
He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes glowing faintly. "Would you rather I carry you?"
"Try it and I'll stab you," she snapped, though her breathless tone ruined the threat.
A ghost of a grin flickered across his lips. "Tempting."
She rolled her eyes but followed him as they climbed higher. The howls of distant wolves echoed far behind them — wild, desperate sounds that didn't belong to Fenris's pack. The Blood Hunters were still searching.
After another mile, the terrain leveled out, and Seraphina caught sight of it — a massive structure rising from the earth like a ghost of a fallen kingdom.
The Fae ruins.
Vines and moss clung to the broken stone towers, their spires reaching toward the stars like skeletal fingers. Faded glyphs glowed faintly across the walls, pulsing with an otherworldly light — neither fully alive nor fully dead. The air was thick here, humming with power older than time itself.
Seraphina stopped at the base of the ruins, staring up in awe. "You said this place was abandoned."
"It is," Fenris murmured, his voice low. "But the land remembers what the Fae built. Magic doesn't die here — it sleeps."
She shivered. "And we're supposed to sleep here too?"
He smirked faintly. "I didn't say it was safe."
"Wonderful," she muttered. "You bring me to a cursed ruin and call it shelter."
Fenris brushed past her, his presence cutting through the charged air. "Better cursed stones than the Tribunal's blades."
She followed him into the shadowed hall. The entrance was marked by two fallen pillars, carved with ancient runes depicting wolves, moons, and a strange symbol that made the mark on her wrist burn faintly.
The interior was vast — cracked marble floors, broken archways, and dust that glittered in the pale light filtering through the ceiling. But despite its ruin, it still felt… alive.
Seraphina ran her fingers along one of the walls, tracing the faint glow of the glyphs. "It's like the stones are whispering."
"They are," Fenris said quietly. "They remember blood. They remember betrayal."
She turned to him sharply. "Whose betrayal?"
His jaw tightened. "The Fae who made the first blood pact. The one that cursed my line — and yours."
Her breath caught. "You mean the prophecy—"
"—began here," he finished grimly. "This was their altar."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The truth hung between them like a ghost — heavy, cold, inescapable.
Then Fenris moved toward a crumbling stairway that spiraled downward. "We'll be safer underground. The hunters won't sense us through Fae stone."
Seraphina hesitated, glancing once more at the glowing glyphs before following him. The air grew colder with every step they descended, until her breath came out in faint white puffs.
At the bottom, they entered a massive underground chamber lit by pools of pale blue light. Ancient carvings lined the walls — stories of gods, beasts, and blood-bound lovers doomed by fate.
Seraphina's heart pounded as she gazed at one particular mural. It showed two figures standing beneath a crescent moon, their hands joined by a thread of silver fire. Beneath them, the world burned.
Her throat tightened. "That's us."
Fenris stopped beside her, his expression unreadable. "Maybe. Or maybe every cursed soul sees themselves in the story."
She looked at him, frustration and fear tangling in her chest. "Do you ever stop pretending you're not afraid?"
His gaze snapped to hers — sharp, feral. "I don't have the luxury of fear."
"Everyone does."
"Not when others die because of it." His voice cracked slightly — just enough for her to hear the weight beneath it. "My pack. My brothers. My family. I ran once, Seraphina. I won't do it again."
Her anger softened, replaced by something dangerously close to sympathy. "You're not the only one who's lost people."
"I know." His eyes met hers, silver flickering with warmth now. "That's why I'm still standing here."
Before she could reply, the bond between them pulsed — a sharp, electric ache that stole her breath. She stumbled forward, a hand pressed to her chest. "Fenris—"
He was already there, catching her before she could fall. "What is it?"
"I… I don't know," she gasped. "It burns."
His grip tightened around her shoulders. "The bond's reacting. Something in this place is awakening it faster."
Light flared from the markings on their skin — his runes, her wrist — both glowing the same violent silver. The air crackled, ancient magic stirring. The glyphs on the walls began to shimmer, shifting patterns like a heartbeat.
"Make it stop!" she cried.
Fenris's eyes flashed with pain. "I can't."
The light grew brighter until it blinded them both. The ground trembled, dust falling from the ceiling as the very stones seemed to roar in protest.
And then — silence.
When the light faded, Seraphina found herself pressed against Fenris's chest, her hands gripping his torn shirt. Her pulse was racing, but the burning had stopped — replaced by a strange, warm thrum beneath her skin.
She looked up. "What just happened?"
He stared down at her, his expression unreadable. "The pact recognized the ruins. It's bound us deeper."
She jerked back as if burned. "What do you mean, deeper?"
"The link between us isn't just magic anymore." His voice was quiet, almost reverent. "It's alive now."
Seraphina shook her head, backing away. "No. No, I didn't agree to this."
"Neither did I." His tone hardened. "But the bond doesn't care what we want."
Her heart pounded. "So what now? We just accept it?"
He looked at her for a long moment, then said softly, "No. We learn to control it — before it controls us."
Before she could respond, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from above — slow, deliberate, too measured to be the wind.
Seraphina's eyes widened. "Hunters?"
Fenris's expression darkened. "No. Worse."
A shadow moved across the far wall, tall and slender, outlined by the blue light. The air grew heavy, oppressive, cold.
Out of the darkness stepped a woman — cloaked in black, her hair like strands of silver moonlight, her eyes glowing faint gold.
"Hello, cursed ones," she said, her voice calm and cruel all at once. "You trespass on sacred ground."
Fenris's stance shifted immediately, protective. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled faintly. "A relic of what you both are becoming. The Fae do not forgive those who wake their dead."
Seraphina stepped forward, dagger raised. "We didn't mean to—"
"Oh, but you did." The woman tilted her head. "Your blood called to this place. It answered."
Fenris growled, but the woman only laughed — a soft, chilling sound. "The bond you share is not salvation, little wolf. It's the key to the end. The prophecy was never about peace. It was about rebirth through ruin."
Seraphina froze. "What are you saying?"
The woman's golden eyes glimmered. "That fate doesn't want you to save this world, child. It wants you to burn it."
The words struck like lightning. Before Seraphina could react, the woman vanished into mist, leaving only the echo of her laughter behind.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Fenris exhaled slowly, his jaw tight. "We're running out of time."
Seraphina turned to him, fear and defiance burning in her eyes. "Then we find the truth before fate decides it for us."
He nodded once, their gazes locking — silver and flame. The bond thrummed again, stronger, almost alive.
Somewhere deep in the ruins, the glyphs flared one last time — and the moon outside shifted, bleeding red across the sky.
The prophecy had awakened.
And there was no turning back.