The mountain rose from the mist like a scar on the horizon.
They called it the Veiled Peak, though the name was a kindness. The mountain was a wound — steep, black, and ancient, carved long before wolves had names for gods. Somewhere within its stone heart, buried beneath centuries of silence, lay the ruins of the Moon Goddess's first temple.
And that was where Aria was going.
The bond mark on her neck had begun to dim days ago. What once burned with warmth now flickered weakly, a dying ember in a storm. Damian tried to hide it, but she could see the fear in his eyes, the way his hand lingered near her skin, as if he could hold the light there by will alone.
"Once we enter," he said, his voice low as they stood before the cave's mouth, "we don't know what waits for us. Not witches. Not Kieran. Not even gods."
She looked up at him, the wind tugging her hair, the scent of rain heavy around them. "If the goddess made this bond," she whispered, "then maybe she can mend it."
His jaw tightened. "Or destroy what's left."
Aria didn't answer. The fear in his voice mirrored her own, but she couldn't turn back. Not now. Not when the connection between them was unraveling thread by thread. She'd felt the bond for so long — a quiet, steady presence in the back of her mind, his heartbeat brushing against hers. Without it, she felt… hollow.
They stepped inside.
The world shifted instantly — sound swallowed, air colder. The temple wasn't made of stone so much as shadow; every surface seemed to drink in the light of their torches. The walls were etched with faint runes, long faded, whispering in a language Aria didn't understand but felt in her bones.
At the center stood a statue of the goddess herself.
She was carved from obsidian, veiled and faceless, her hands outstretched in both offering and judgment. The air hummed faintly around her, the kind of silence that pressed down until you could feel your own blood moving.
Aria took a hesitant step forward. "Mother of the Moon," she said softly, her voice trembling, "you gave me this bond. You tied me to him. If there's any mercy in you, please—don't take it away."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then, the torches flared.
The temperature dropped, breath freezing in her throat. A voice — soft and infinite — filled the chamber.
"You seek to defy what was written."
Aria froze. The sound wasn't heard so much as felt — vibrating through her chest, her bones, her soul.
She fell to her knees. "I seek only to save what you made."
"What I made," the voice echoed, "was not meant to last. The bond is a gift and a burden. It was never meant for one who carries my fire."
Aria's pulse thundered. "You mean the Moonborn?"
Silence. Then— "Your blood was not born of man or wolf. You are the fracture that binds what should not be joined."
The words hit like ice. She wanted to deny them, but the truth burned in her chest. She had always been different. The mark, the visions, the power that made the earth itself bow — all of it.
Behind her, Damian stepped forward. "If she's your creation, then she's yours to protect," he said, voice low but steady.
The shadows shifted toward him, curious. "And you, Alpha. You would stand between the divine and her design?"
"I would stand between her and anything that dares to harm her," he said.
The darkness pulsed, almost like laughter. "Then you will fall when she rises."
Before Aria could react, the floor split.
Light — white and violent — burst from the cracks, throwing them apart. Aria was thrown backward, her body hitting the stone with a sickening crack. The air thickened with energy, ancient and merciless.
"Aria!" Damian's voice was distant, muffled under the roar of power.
She tried to reach him, but her body wouldn't obey. The light beneath her skin blazed to life — the Moonborn fire. It consumed the air, the stone, her fear.
And then the goddess's voice was in her head again, colder this time. "The bond weakens because your soul outgrows its cage. To keep it is to die as less than what you are meant to become."
"I don't care!" Aria screamed. "I don't want power—I want him!"
The light flickered. For a heartbeat, silence.
Then the goddess spoke, quieter now. "Even gods envy what they cannot keep."
The chamber dimmed, the cracks sealing slowly. Aria collapsed, gasping, the light fading from her skin. When she looked up, Damian was kneeling beside her, blood streaked across his temple, eyes wide with fear.
"What happened?" he asked, voice shaking.
She looked down at her hands. They glowed faintly, the veins beneath her skin alive with silver. "She showed me… what I am. What I'm becoming."
"And?"
Aria met his gaze. "She said the bond is dying because I'm changing. Because I'm not meant to belong to anyone."
He flinched, the words landing like blows. "That's not true."
"It is," she whispered. "You feel it too. Every time I use my power, I can feel it unravel. Like the bond can't hold me anymore."
Damian's hands clenched. "Then I'll hold you myself."
Her throat closed around a sob. "You can't fight a goddess, Damian."
His gaze was fierce, desperate. "Watch me."
The air between them crackled — not with anger, but with something rawer. He reached out, gripping her wrist, pressing her palm against his chest. "Do you feel that?" he asked. His heartbeat pounded beneath her touch. "That's real. Not magic. Not divine. Just us."
The mark at her neck flickered once, faintly — a heartbeat of light.
Tears blurred her vision. "It's fading," she whispered. "I can't stop it."
He leaned closer, his forehead against hers. "Then let it fade. Let the gods take their bond. I'll still find you."
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Then, slowly, she rose, turning toward the statue. Her body trembled, but her voice was steady. "If I was never meant to belong," she said to the goddess, "then I'll belong to myself."
The statue pulsed once — a faint shimmer of approval, or maybe farewell.
The temple began to shake. Cracks spread across the floor as the magic that held it together began to unravel. Damian grabbed her arm. "We need to go!"
They ran, the world collapsing behind them — stone raining down, the air thick with ancient energy. When they burst from the mouth of the cave, the first light of dawn broke across the horizon.
They fell to their knees in the grass, breathless, covered in dust.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Damian whispered, "What did she take from you?"
Aria looked at the fading glow of her mark. "Not what she took," she said softly. "What she left."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
She turned toward him, eyes filled with silver fire. "The bond's fading… but the power she bound inside me isn't. And it's waking up."
Above them, the first ray of sunlight split the clouds, catching the edge of her hair, turning it to molten gold. Damian stared, awe and fear warring in his eyes.
Because for the first time, she didn't look like the girl he'd fought beside.
She looked like something that could bring gods to their knees.
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