Bonnie poured herself another cup of tea. "As long as Aria keeps her promise, everything will be fine," Bonnie said. Not sure whim she's trying to convince. Herself or her two best friends: Elena and Caroline.
Caroline leans forward, worry creasing her normally composed features. "You don't sound so sure about that."
Elena nods, taking a sip of her own tea—her gaze still locked on Bonnie. "Is there… something you're not telling us?"
She sighed. "Anima Cantat is more than it's meaning. Their blood boils for each other. Fate would stop at nothing until their connection is stable and unbreakable."
Caroline's eyes widen—she knows that look. The one where magic isn't just a story, but something ancient and inevitable. "And if they resist?" she asks quietly.
Bonnie hesitates, stirring her tea even though it doesn't need stirring. Her voice drops like she's afraid the air itself might carry her words to someone it shouldn't. "Then fate… will break them until they stop running."
"If their souls are singing, and blood is boiling... Does that mean they have too... " Elena fidgets with her fingers before adding in an almost shy whisper. "...mate?"
Bonnie nods, solemnly. "That's what it usually means for Anima Cantat couples." She pauses, taking a sip. "It's like… a chemical reaction. The first time they touch, the bond starts to form. The more contact, the faster it solidifies."
She looks over at them, expression serious. "Once the bond is complete, a couple's souls can't be pulled apart. They're… forever. And a life threatening incident will take both, even if one was unharmed."
Elena pales. "You mean… if one dies…"
Caroline finishes for her. "So does the other."
"Sadly enough I don't think Aria's going to keep her promise. I'm fairly sure that their already rewriting history." Bonnie voiced.
Elena frowns. "What do you mean…?"
Caroline looks at her sharply. "You think they're together as we speak?"
Bonnie nods her head. She pushed her tea cup in front of her two friends. "Tell me what do you see?" Even to the untrained eye it's as clear as day."
Caroline leans in, squinting at the tea leaves settled in the cup. "That… looks like two people," she says slowly, "wrapped around each other. Like—"
"A bond," Elena whispers, eyes wide. "It's not just an embrace… it's a fusion."
The air in the room shifts—suddenly heavier, as if magic itself is leaning closer to listen.
Bonnie exhales, voice low and edged with resignation: "They're already past the point of no return. The Anima Cantat isn't just singing anymore…" She meets their gazes one by one.
"It's claiming them."
***
Thousands of miles away, the claiming caught wind. A group of dark Supernaturals are debating the situation. The leader of the pack sits quietly, staring intently at the map before him. "It's only a matter of time now." His voice is cool and confident.
The youngest member steps forward, curiosity and a hint of hesitation in his eyes. "Until the couple fully submits to the Anima Cantat…? But isn't that... inevitable? Shouldn't we stop it before it claims them completely?"
The leader turns slowly, eyes glinting like shards of obsidian in the dim light. A faint, dangerous smile curls at the edge of his lips.
"Stop it?"
He lets out a low chuckle—cold, mirthless. "You don't stop fate, boy. You harvest it."
The room stills. Even the shadows seems to lean in closer. "When Anima Cantat reaches its peak—when two souls fuse completely—the energy released is… unimaginable."
Silence...
"Power enough to break seals. To resurrect what should stay buried. To command even death itself." He rises from his seat, voice dropping to a whisper that carries like thunder. "So no, boy… we won't stop them. We'll guide them."
Another beat of silence.
"We'll let them fall deeper into each other's arms… Until the bond is ripe... And then?"
"We take the girl."
"There's only one flaw to your plan, Kyron." One of the older members acknowledged the leader by his first name. "Derek Hale."
Kyron turns slowly, gaze hardening. "What about him?"
"He and the moon howlers wouldn't stand back and watch how we snatch his destined partner away. Aren't you concerned about that?" The older man voiced his question.
Kyron's lips curl into a slow, predatory grin—one that doesn't reach his dead, hollow eyes. "Oh… I'm not going to snatch her." He steps forward, fingers trailing over an ancient map marked with blood-red signals and lunar phases. "I'm going to make her leave him. Let the boy think he lost her by choice… Let his wolf howl itself hoarse in silence…" He pauses, voice dropping to a whisper, "And when his heart is broken enough—when the bond is strained but not yet shattered—we'll be there."
"To catch her when she falls. To take what he can no longer hold."
The room darkens—the shadows themselves bow to his words.
As soon as the room grew less inhabited, quiet, empty and cold. Kyron's most trusted right hand asked: "Am I assuming correctly that you're doing it to resurrect the one that's been so barbarically ripped from you, Kyron?"
The air stills—so completely it feels like time itself holds its breath.
Kyron doesn't turn. Doesn't flinch. But for the first time, his shoulders tense—just slightly—like a wound pressed too hard.
Silence stretches further then the eye can see. Then, soft as ash falling, he speaks: "You think I'd risk awakening an Anima Cantat bond… endure the wrath of a grieving wolf and the fury of the moon itself…"
Kyron finally turns his head, eyes hollow with something ancient and broken: "Just to wield power?" His voice drops to a whisper—not of rage, but grief. "No… I do this because she was ripped from me before our bond could be completed. She was mine."
"And when they killed her—the Council, in their fear—they didn't just murder my mate… They silenced our song before it could ever truly begin. And for what reason, to punish me?"
A single tear traces down his scarred cheek—but freezes halfway, turning to black mist as magic consumes it. "Now? When another pair dares to ignite that same sacred fire? I will not let fate fail again_ I will take what is needed… And if I must break a new Anima Cantat to resurrect my old one… I'll drown this world in blood before I lose her twice."
The room falls cold and quiet yet again. Understanding the situation undeniably.
This isn't about power.
This is about vengeance dressed up as love.
"And if she is who I suspect, it will make my winnings so much bigger. Better. Worthwhile." Kyron said with a snicker. The snicker curls through the air like smoke—dark, knowing, laced with something far more dangerous than ambition. It isn't quite a laugh—more like the creak of a tomb opening.
A pause.
"And if she is who I suspect…"
He steps toward the cracked mirror at the back of the chamber—one that doesn't reflect his face, but flickers with ghostly images: a young woman with golden-flecked eyes, screaming as chains pull her apart; then another vision—Aria's face, morphing, shifting… merging with something older. Something familiar. "Then she isn't just any Anima Cantat."
His fingers press against the glass, voice dropping to a whisper soaked in reverence and madness: "She's not merely marked by fate… She's reborn."
Silence.
"And when I rip that bond from Derek Hale… when I sever their connection at its peak… I won't just resurrect my mate. I'll reclaim her soul."
"And Aria?" He smiles, now—wide and terrified. "She'll be nothing more than a kindling. A forgotten memory."