The storm broke before dawn.
Lucian stood on the terrace of the Moonfang Hall, his cloak whipping in the wind. The rain fell hard, washing the scent of poison from the valley, but it could not cleanse the grief that hung over the pack. The fires in the lower dens still smoldered where the dead had been burned according to ancient rites. Smoke curled upward like the ghosts of the fallen.
His people moved like shadows through the rain, silent, hollow-eyed.
Darius approached from behind. "Alpha," he said quietly, "the scouts found traces near the northern ridge. Human footprints. And something else."
Lucian turned. "Show me."
They walked through the mud until they reached the ridge where the spy had escaped. The air here still reeked faintly of alchemical smoke. Darius handed him a fragment of cloth, black and stiff with dried silver dust.
Lucian crushed it in his fist. "The same scent from Valehart's soldiers."
Darius nodded grimly. "We also found this." He held out a broken vial. "Poison residue. It bears the mark of the royal alchemist."
Lucian's eyes darkened. "Serwin."
He looked eastward, toward the human lands hidden beyond the mist. His heart thudded with fury. "So it was Aldred himself."
Darius's jaw tightened. "What will you do, my Alpha?"
Lucian's voice was quiet, but every word carried the weight of command. "What I must. The humans think we are weakened. They are wrong. I will show them what a dying wolf can still do."
Darius bowed his head. "Then we stand with you."
Lucian said nothing. He watched the horizon until the first pale light of morning bled through the clouds. For the first time in years, he felt the old power stir faintly beneath his skin, the ancient bond between Alpha and moon, flickering like a candle refusing to die.
He did not yet understand why.
He only knew that when she had touched him, something within him had begun to change.
Far from the valley, in the marble halls of Valehart, the king held counsel.
King Aldred stood at the long table, his fingers resting on a map of the wildlands. The royal banners stirred in the draft, crimson against the gray stone walls. Around him stood his generals and scholars, their faces pale in the torchlight.
"The poison succeeded," Aldred said, his voice calm. "But the Alpha still lives. That cannot be allowed."
The alchemist Serwin stepped forward, clutching a vial filled with swirling blue liquid. "My lord, we can do more. This blend will rot their lungs within an hour of breathing it. It will spread faster than fire."
Aldred smiled faintly. "Good. And the blood?"
Serwin hesitated. "The samples we took from the captured wolf show signs of corruption. It reacts violently with human essence. But if we refine it.... "
"Then we can use their own strength against them," Aldred finished. He turned toward the spy who knelt nearby. "You did well, Marcus. You will lead the next mission."
The spy bowed his head, trembling. "Your Majesty, if I may speak.... these wolves are not like the others. Their Alpha...."
"Is dying," Aldred interrupted. "Do not mistake fury for strength. When the next moon rises, I want the valley drowned in smoke. When the last wolf falls, bring me the Alpha's heart. I will make the world see what becomes of beasts who defy me."
The room fell silent. The firelight caught the edge of the king's smile thin, cruel and certain.
Selene stood before her window, the first rain of dawn whispering against the glass. She had not slept since the vision. Her eyes were hollow but burning bright beneath their calm surface.
The village outside her apothecary was beginning to stir. She could hear the chatter of merchants, the laughter of children, the familiar sounds of life continuing as if nothing beyond the forest existed.
But she knew better.
On her table lay a single bowl of silver water. The surface rippled though no wind touched it. When she placed her hand above it, faint light shimmered beneath her skin. The water began to move, showing fleeting shapes a valley wrapped in mist, wolves lying still among the trees, a silver-eyed man standing alone in the rain.
Lucian.
The name formed in her thoughts like a secret she did not want to keep.
He had come to her wounded, proud, and silent. She had felt the curse in his blood even before she saw his eyes. It had called to her like a whisper from another lifetime. And now, through the threads of that ancient magic, his pain echoed within her.
She should not care. He was her enemy. His kind had spilled Nightshade blood for generations. Yet every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face again, the way he had looked at her, as if seeing something he could not destroy.
The door creaked open. Elara entered, carrying a lantern. Her face was pale, her expression grave. "You have not rested."
Selene did not turn. "I cannot rest while his blood cries through the earth."
"You speak of him again." Elara set the lantern down sharply. "Selene, this path is dangerous. The prophecy warns of a union between witch and wolf that will bring ruin."
Selene's gaze flickered toward her. "Or salvation."
"There is no salvation between our kind," Elara said. "Only destruction."
Selene moved to her shelves, gathering ingredients with careful hands, moonstone dust, blackthorn petals, crushed sage. "Destruction may be the only way to end this war. The king will strike again. You know it."
Elara reached for her wrist. "And you would stand against a human king alone? You would risk the flames?"
Selene's voice softened. "I would risk everything to stop him."
The lantern light wavered, catching the silver threads of her hair. For a moment, she looked otherworldly, her calm face masking the storm within. The air around her shimmered faintly with power.
Elara stepped back, her eyes wide. "You are awakening the curse."
Selene exhaled slowly. "Then let it wake."
She poured the herbs into the bowl. The water darkened to black. The surface rippled and began to hum with quiet energy. Selene whispered ancient words under her breath, not a spell of harm, but a binding, a call through the distance.
Across the valley, Lucian lifted his head from where he stood at the graves of his fallen. The wind shifted, carrying a scent that froze him in place, herbs and smoke, wild rose and rain.
Selene.
He could feel her presence like a touch on his skin.
She felt it too. Her breath caught, her eyes closing as the vision flared again, a flash of silver eyes, the sound of a heartbeat not her own.
Then the connection broke.
The bowl cracked. The black water spilled across the table and hissed like acid. Elara cried out and grabbed her arm, pulling her away.
"Enough! You will bring the curse down upon both of you!"
Selene stared at the water running over the wood. Her reflection stared back, eyes glowing faintly with pale light. "It has already begun," she whispered.
Outside, the rain stopped. The clouds parted. The full moon broke through the mist, silver and vast.
And far away, in the forest of the Moonfang, Lucian Blackthorn lifted his face to the same moon and felt the pull of destiny tightening like a chain.
The witch and the wolf were bound again, though neither yet knew whether their bond would save the world or destroy it.