Seraphina couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows haunting her were more than just enemies in the dark. They were memories—fragments of a past she had been kept from, locked away beneath layers of silence and fear. Every step toward Ruvan was like walking deeper into a storm she didn't understand but couldn't escape. The village watched her with wary eyes, their hope and fear tangled in every glance. Kael stayed close, his presence both comforting and confusing, like the ghost of what could have been and what still might be. The weight of the moonstone necklace against her skin felt heavier today, as if it pulsed with a secret she was almost ready to hear. She pressed her palm against it, willing it to reveal the truth. But all it gave back was silence.
The journey to find Ruvan led them through wild forests where the trees whispered old secrets and the wind carried the cries of long-lost wolves. Seraphina's dreams grew darker, filled with visions of battles fought in silver moonlight, of a queen betrayed, and a child taken from the world too soon. At night, she would wake with tears on her cheeks and a voice calling her name—soft, desperate, and full of sorrow. One evening, Kael found her staring at the horizon, eyes glazed with pain. "Tell me what you see," he urged gently. Seraphina hesitated, then spoke of the visions—the war, the betrayal, and the bloodline that bound her to a destiny she hadn't chosen. Kael listened in silence, the weight of her words settling over him like a shadow. "We're running out of time," he said. "Ruvan's closer than we think, and whatever he wants, it isn't peace."
When they finally reached the ruins hidden deep within the forest—a place where the moonlight never quite touched—the air grew thick with ancient power. Stone pillars cracked and overgrown with ivy formed a circle, and in the center lay a carved symbol glowing faintly: a wolf and a crescent moon entwined in eternal struggle. Seraphina's breath caught. This was the place from her visions. Suddenly, movement flickered at the edge of the ruins—a figure stepped forward, cloaked in shadows, eyes burning like embers in the dark. "Seraphina," the voice was both familiar and strange, "you carry a heavy burden, but the past cannot protect you anymore." The figure lowered his hood, revealing sharp features and eyes like storm clouds—Ruvan. His gaze locked with hers, fierce and unreadable. "I didn't come to fight you," he said, "I came to warn you. The real enemy waits in the shadows, and it's closer than you think." Before she could respond, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and from the darkness, a new howl pierced the night—a howl that promised war, betrayal, and a future written in blood.