The howling reached them before the creatures did.
It slid across the stone like a blade—low, vibrating, unmistakably close.
She felt it in her bones.
Her breath hitched despite every effort to keep it steady. Her pulse spiked, fast and sharp, hammering against the invisible tether binding her to him.
Don't panic.
Don't panic.
She repeated the words silently, gripping the fabric of her coat as if it could anchor her thoughts.
He noticed immediately.
"Stay with me," he said quietly, not looking back. "Breathe."
"I am," she whispered, though the lie tasted bitter.
The air thickened.
Something moved beyond the rocks ahead—shadows stretching unnaturally long, claws scraping against stone.
Her fear surged.
Just for a second.
It was enough.
The chain reacted violently.
Pain exploded through her wrist, searing white-hot, stealing the air from her lungs. She cried out, collapsing forward as the ground rushed up to meet her.
At the same time, he dropped to one knee.
The chains around his arms flared blindingly bright, wrapping tighter, cutting into flesh. He gasped sharply, body jerking as if struck by lightning.
"Stop—!" he snarled, voice strained. "Pull it back—now!"
"I—I can't—" Tears blurred her vision as the pain spiked again. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—"
The ground beneath them cracked.
Not from impact—but from pressure.
The curse surged outward, an invisible shockwave rippling through the narrow pass. Stones shattered. Dust and ash filled the air.
The howling stopped abruptly.
Silence followed—unnatural and heavy.
Then footsteps retreated. Fast. Panicked.
The hunters fled.
She barely noticed.
All she could see was him.
He collapsed fully now, chains clattering harshly against stone as his strength gave out. His breathing was shallow, uneven, blood seeping where the metal had bitten too deep.
Her panic vanished instantly—replaced by horror.
"Oh no—no, no—" She scrambled to his side, hands hovering uselessly above him. "This is my fault. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He didn't respond.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She had almost killed him.
She forced herself to breathe, slow and deliberate, remembering his rules.
Strong emotion travels faster than movement.
Guilt surged—she shoved it down.
"I'm here," she whispered, more to herself than him. "I won't run. I won't hesitate."
She reached out carefully and took his hand.
The chains twitched—then loosened slightly.
His breathing steadied by a fraction.
Hope flickered.
She didn't let go.
Minutes passed in agonizing stillness. Her knees ached, her wrist throbbed, but she stayed exactly where she was.
Finally, his eyes fluttered open.
The first thing he saw was her.
Still holding on.
"You…" His voice was hoarse. "You should've moved away."
"I couldn't," she said softly. "I did this. I won't leave you to pay for it alone."
His gaze sharpened despite the pain. "That kind of thinking is dangerous."
"So is surviving without caring who gets hurt," she shot back, then immediately softened. "I'm sorry. I was scared."
He exhaled slowly.
"Yes," he said. "I noticed."
Shame burned behind her eyes. "I tried to control it."
"And you failed," he said bluntly.
She flinched.
Then he added, quieter, "But you stayed."
She looked up at him.
"That matters," he continued. "Most people don't."
The chains dimmed further, settling into a dull, restrained glow.
She helped him sit up, careful not to jolt the curse. He leaned heavily against the rock wall, eyes closed briefly as he regained his strength.
"What happens if I lose control again?" she asked after a moment.
He opened his eyes.
"Then the curse will decide which of us suffers more," he said. "And it doesn't favor mercy."
Her fingers tightened around his sleeve.
"Teach me," she said firmly. "Not just the rules—how to survive them."
He studied her face—her fear, her resolve, the lingering guilt she refused to run from.
"Very well," he said at last. "But understand this."
She nodded, bracing herself.
"Fear is inevitable," he said. "What matters is who you let it control."
The wind picked up again, carrying the distant echo of retreating monsters.
She stayed beside him, grounded, resolute.
The curse remained—silent, coiled, watchful.
But for the first time, it felt less like a sentence…
…and more like a test.