Selene tumbled through darkness, the shadows swallowing her whole, wrapping her in cold, suffocating tendrils. Every instinct screamed to fight, to run, to resist — yet she could not. The darkness was alive, bending to the will of the ancient magic that lingered in the ruins of Elarion.
A golden light pierced the black, sudden and blinding. Auren's form appeared through the haze, reaching for her with an intensity that made her heart pound. "Selene!" he called, his voice echoing, powerful and commanding, yet edged with something softer — something human.
She struggled toward him, feeling the pull of the castle's dark will trying to wrench her away. His hand met hers, fingers entwining in a grasp that felt impossibly warm against the cold of the shadows. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stabilize — the darkness curling back slightly, recoiling from the surge of combined magic.
"We must move," Auren said, voice low but urgent. "The castle will not allow us to linger here. Every second we hesitate, it grows stronger."
Selene nodded, swallowing hard. The remnants of her fear mingled with an unfamiliar surge of trust. She had survived the dungeon. She had faced shadows that twisted like living smoke. But the weight of centuries of magic, of a curse older than any she had ever encountered, pressed down on her like a stone. And yet, with Auren beside her, it felt almost manageable.
Together, they ran through the shattered hallways, stepping over debris and fallen beams. The moonlight, crimson and fractured, illuminated fragments of mirrors lining the walls. Each reflected not just the present but echoes of the past — battles fought, kingdoms fallen, and sorceresses like Selene herself, weaving magic long before her time.
"Look," Auren said quietly, gesturing to a particularly large mirror at the end of the hall. Its surface shimmered unnaturally, reflecting not only their forms but a scene from centuries ago — a council of witches and royals, faces twisted with fear and anger.
Selene approached cautiously, her fingers brushing over the mirror's cool surface. Images flickered: a young woman in storm-gray robes casting a spell; a prince, his features sharp and regal, struggling against invisible chains. Her heart skipped a beat. The figure in the mirror was her. Or perhaps a version of her, centuries removed yet identical in gaze, posture, and power.
"Your bloodline," Auren said behind her, voice soft, almost reverent, "was part of the events that bound me here. That woman… she helped create the curse that has lasted a thousand years."
Selene's breath caught. "So… I'm doomed to repeat history?"
Auren shook his head slowly. "Not doomed. Tested. The castle will push you, probe you, challenge you. But this time… there is a choice. You may break the cycle. Or become another echo, trapped in its memory."
The shadows surged again, flickering along the walls, whispering in voices older than time. Selene felt the tendrils brush against her skin, cold and probing. "How do we fight them?" she asked, panic threading her tone.
"Control your magic," Auren said firmly. "Focus. The castle feeds on fear and doubt. Do not give it either." He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, grounding her. His touch was gentle, restrained, yet it sent warmth racing through her chest, stirring something dangerous and irresistible.
Selene took a deep breath, letting her fingers brush along her amulet. Magic pulsed faintly through her veins, a rhythm tied to her fear, her trust, and the prince beside her. She willed it outward, a protective shimmer forming around them both. The shadows recoiled slightly, hissing, writhing, but did not vanish.
Auren studied her, golden eyes softening. "You are stronger than you realize," he said. "Stronger than I expected. Perhaps you are truly the one who can end this."
Selene's throat tightened. "And if I fail?"
He did not answer immediately. Instead, he guided her to the large mirror. "The curse is tied to blood and magic. To undo it… we must bind our powers together. A pact. Sealed in blood."
Selene's pulse quickened. "Blood? You mean… sacrifice?"
"Not a sacrifice," Auren said, his voice low, careful. "A pact. One that will tether your magic to mine, allow us to undo the chain that has held me captive. But it is dangerous. If we fail… the curse may consume both of us."
Selene swallowed, the weight of the moment pressing on her. She glanced at him, at the centuries of pain etched into his face, and realized the depth of his loneliness, his isolation. He had survived a thousand years with nothing but the memory of lost love and the heavy chains of the curse. And now, fate had thrown them together.
"I…" she began, but her voice faltered. Fear, awe, and something else — longing, perhaps — mixed into a knot she could not untangle.
Auren stepped closer, maintaining a careful distance, his eyes locked on hers. "I will not harm you," he said, the words almost a whisper. "But you must trust me. And you must trust yourself."
Selene's gaze drifted to her own reflection in the mirror. The woman in the storm-gray robes looked back at her, solemn, powerful, and unwavering. She nodded, determination hardening in her chest. "I'll do it," she said softly. "I'll trust you. And I'll try."
Auren's eyes softened. "Then we begin."
They extended their hands toward the mirror, fingertips brushing lightly against the glass. A pulse of magic surged through the room, the air thickening, the shadows quivering in place. The mirror glowed faintly, a silver light that shimmered and pulsed like a heartbeat.
And then, a voice — haunting, familiar, impossibly close — whispered through the hall:
"She carries my soul…"
Selene's blood ran cold. She glanced at Auren. His expression was grave, golden eyes flaring. "It knows," he muttered. "The remnants of the past… they are aware. And they will not let this pact succeed easily."
Suddenly, the mirror cracked, a web of fissures spreading across its surface like lightning frozen in glass. Shadows surged from the shards, black tendrils reaching for Selene, threatening to pull her into the void.
Auren grabbed her hand, his grip strong, unwavering. "Hold on to me! Do not let go!"
Selene felt the pull, the pressure, the whispering voices surrounding them, pressing into her mind. The world seemed to tilt, the castle shaking beneath their feet. And then — just as the shadows threatened to swallow them completely — the mirror exploded in a burst of silver light, fragments spinning through the hall.
When her vision cleared, Selene realized they were alone — for now. The castle was silent, yet the air thrummed with anticipation, as if the ruins themselves were holding their breath.
Auren's hand still held hers, his eyes scanning the darkness. "This is only the beginning," he said quietly. "The pact is made. But the castle… it will test us again. And next time, the price may be far greater."
Selene shivered, both from fear and the intensity of the moment. She met his gaze, seeing centuries of pain, centuries of hope, and something else — a connection neither could deny, though neither dared name it yet.
And somewhere, deep in the ruins, a faint voice whispered again:
"The blood of the witch… and the cursed prince… will decide the fate of all."
The castle trembled. The blood-red moon hung high, casting shadows that danced and twisted along the walls. Selene realized, with a mixture of awe and terror, that nothing would ever be the same again.
The test had begun. And the pact they had sealed in blood was only the first step toward an impossible destiny.