The morning light filtered gently through the cracks in the old wooden ceiling. The air carried faint smells of smoke, pine, and something metallic. Elara stirred, her body aching as if she had been running for miles. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was. Then the memories rushed back—the shadows, the red moon, Kael's collapse.
She sat up abruptly. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to focus. She was in a small cabin deep in the forest, its walls lined with herbs, old books, and flickering candles. Her pendant rested on a nearby table, its light dim but steady. Beside the fire, Kael slumped in a chair.
He looked exhausted—pale, his breathing shallow, his shirt torn from the fight. Yet even in his weakened state, a sense of power surrounded him. Something dangerous.
Elara instinctively touched her wrist. The mark was still there—the crimson crescent faintly glowing under her skin. The same symbol that had cursed Kael. A chill ran down her spine. She recalled his last word before he passed out: Bound.
"What did you do to me?" she whispered, staring at him.
Kael's eyes opened slowly, as if he had heard her from deep within sleep. "I saved your life," he said hoarsely. "And in doing so, I might have tied it to mine."
She blinked. "Tied? What does that mean?"
He stood, moving stiffly toward her. "It means our souls are linked now. When my curse awoke under the blood moon, it sought balance. You became that balance."
Elara's heart raced. "So, what happens if—"
"If one of us dies," he finished for her, "the other follows."
Silence filled the room, heavy and cold. Elara stared at the mark on her wrist, wishing it away. "You should have let me go," she said quietly.
Kael's gaze hardened. "And let the forest tear you apart? No. I don't save easily, witch, but when I do, I don't regret it."
His words hung between them, charged and sharp. Elara wanted to argue, to say he had no right to decide her fate. But something in his tone stopped her. Beneath the roughness, she heard guilt. Pain. A kind of sorrow that felt centuries old.
She stood, ignoring the dizziness that followed. "Then we need to find a way to undo it. There must be something in your books, your spells—"
Kael's jaw tightened. "I've tried every spell in existence to break my curse. None of them worked. This one won't be any different."
"Then I'll find one that does," she said stubbornly. "Because I refuse to let some ancient curse decide how I live—or die."
A faint smile ghosted across his lips. "You're stubborn for someone so fragile."
Elara's glare softened just a bit. "And you're arrogant for someone who almost died last night."
He chuckled—a low, quiet sound that eased the tension in the room, if only for a moment. But then his expression shifted. "You shouldn't be here, Elara," he said softly. "The mark on you will draw others. The Shadow Pack wasn't just after me. They want the power that connects us now."
Her stomach twisted. "You mean the curse is spreading."
"Yes," he said, looking toward the window. "And it's awakening things that should remain buried."
Outside, the wind picked up, howling through the trees. The light dimmed, even though it was still morning. Elara moved closer, sensing the same pressure in the air she had felt last night. "Kael," she murmured, "something's coming."
He nodded once, his hand brushing against the blade at his side. "They've found us."
The door burst open with a crack that echoed through the cabin. Three figures cloaked in black rushed in, their eyes glowing faintly gold—the same as the stranger's. Magic rolled off them in waves, burning the air with its scent.
Kael pushed Elara behind him, his claws flashing out. "Stay down," he growled.
The first attacker lunged, but Kael met him mid-strike, their collision shaking the walls. Sparks of red and silver light erupted from their clash. Elara raised her hands, whispering a spell—a barrier of shimmering light formed in front of her just as one of the others hurled a bolt of dark magic.
The impact knocked her back, slamming her into the table. Her pendant flew from her hand, skittering across the floor. "Kael!" she shouted.
He turned, eyes blazing. With one brutal strike, he sent the first attacker crashing through the cabin wall. But the others didn't falter. They moved in sync—coordinated, almost ritualistic. Elara recognized the pattern.
"They're not trying to kill us," she gasped. "They're trying to bind us tighter!"
Kael's head jerked toward her, eyes wide. "Then stop them!"
Elara scrambled to her feet, pain lancing through her ribs. She reached for the pendant, whispering the ancient words her grandmother had once forbidden her to use. The air shimmered, and a blinding light exploded from her hands. The attackers screamed as their magic recoiled, burning their cloaks to ash.
When the light faded, the cabin lay in ruins—walls cracked, smoke curling from the floorboards. Kael stood in the center, breathing heavily, blood streaking down his arm. The intruders were gone, vanished into thin air.
Elara looked at him, her hands still trembling. "They'll come back," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Yes. And next time, they won't come to capture us."
"Then we run," she said, her voice steadier now. "We find the truth before they do."
Kael met her gaze, and for the first time, she saw something flicker there—trust, faint but real. "Then we'll run," he said. "Together."
As they stepped out of the shattered doorway, the forest seemed to shift, as if watching their every move. The crescent marks on their skin glowed faintly in unison, pulsing with a shared heartbeat neither could control.
And deep in the woods, the stranger smiled as he traced a rune into the dirt. "Run while you can," he whispered to the wind. "The curse always finds its way home."