The journey away from the Crimson Valley was a blur of exhaustion and raw determination. Damon and Selene moved quickly, their bodies battered, their spirits bruised, but neither dared to pause. They knew the High Priestess was not finished with them.
Selene clutched the remnants of the shattered scroll, its magic burned into her skin, its final spell seared into her memory. The bond between her and Damon had deepened, now humming beneath their skin like a second heartbeat.
"Where to now?" Damon asked, his voice low, the wind tousling his dark hair as they reached the edge of the Whispering Woods.
"Eira said the High Priestess has another tether," Selene replied. "We need to find it before she regains her full power."
Damon's crimson eyes darkened. "There's something I didn't tell you."
Selene stopped, turning to face him. "What is it?"
"When I fought Theron, he… he said something. He knew about my blood. About what I am." Damon ran his hand through his hair, his voice tight. "I'm not just vampire and wolf, Selene. There's more."
"More?" Her heart thudded painfully.
"He said I carry the blood of the First Wolf." Damon met her gaze, the weight of his lineage pressing heavily on his shoulders. "The one who started it all. The ancient bloodlines, the curses—everything."
Selene's throat tightened. "That would explain the bond… why it's so… powerful."
"It also means I'm a threat to everyone," Damon said. "The High Priestess isn't just after you. She wants me too. My blood can restore her, make her stronger than ever."
Selene reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. "Then we'll stop her. Together."
He exhaled, leaning his forehead against hers. "Together."
The next days passed in grueling travel. They sought out hidden libraries, questioned the few surviving elders of the witch clans, and followed the trail of ancient texts that spoke of the First Wolf and his hidden descendants.
They found answers in the most unlikely of places: an abandoned shrine deep within the Mountain of Echoes, where the walls were etched with the story of the First Wolf, Fenrik.
Selene traced the carvings with trembling fingers. "Fenrik's blood… was never fully extinguished."
"It survived through hybrids," Damon added, his chest tightening as he read the stories painted in stone. "Through me."
In the center of the shrine, an ancient blade rested upon a stone altar. It shimmered faintly, its hilt wrapped in faded leather, its edge still sharp despite centuries of abandonment.
"The Fang of Fenrik," Selene whispered, recognizing the weapon from the scrolls. "It can kill the immortal."
Damon lifted the blade, its weight familiar, as if it had always belonged to him.
"The High Priestess won't expect this," he said, a rare fire lighting his eyes.
Before they could leave, a low growl echoed from the entrance. Wolves—massive, black-furred beasts with glowing red eyes—emerged from the shadows, their snarls filling the cavern.
Leading them was someone Selene never thought she'd see again.
"Lucien," Damon growled, his grip tightening on the Fang.
Lucien smirked, his dark hair falling over one eye. "Miss me, brother?"
Selene's eyes widened. "Brother?"
Lucien's smirk deepened. "Half-brother, technically. I'm the part of the bloodline no one talks about."
Damon stiffened, his pulse roaring in his ears. "You're supposed to be dead."
"Death and I have a complicated relationship," Lucien drawled, circling them with his pack. "I've been working with the High Priestess. She promised me power—the throne that should have been mine."
Selene stepped forward, magic already thrumming at her fingertips. "You'll never have it. Damon won't let you."
"I'm not here to ask." Lucien's eyes flared crimson as his wolves closed in. "I'm here to take it."
The battle erupted in a violent clash of steel, magic, and fangs.
Damon fought with a ferocity Selene had never seen before, the Fang of Fenrik blazing with ancient power in his hands. Each swing of the blade left trails of silver light, cutting through Lucien's wolves as Selene unleashed waves of searing spells, igniting the air around them.
Lucien matched Damon's strength blow for blow, his movements precise and ruthless.
"You're strong," Lucien snarled, their swords locked in a grating clash. "But you hesitate. You still think you can save everyone."
Damon roared, shoving Lucien back. "I can save those who matter."
Selene's spells pinned several wolves, but more took their place. The fight pushed them toward the edge of the shrine, dangerously close to the cliffs.
Lucien's blade nicked Damon's side, drawing blood that sizzled against the stone.
"You can't protect her," Lucien spat, his blade slicing toward Selene.
Damon blocked the attack, his body a shield.
"I'm not his to protect," Selene snapped, hurling a surge of magic that blasted Lucien backward.
Lucien slammed against the shrine wall but rose swiftly, his smirk never faltering. "This isn't over."
His wolves retreated, vanishing into the mist with supernatural speed.
Breathing heavily, Damon dropped to one knee, his hand pressed against his wound.
"You okay?" Selene asked, rushing to his side.
"Yeah," he grunted. "Just a scratch."
She helped him to his feet, her heart pounding in her chest. "We need to keep moving. Lucien will bring more."
Damon tightened his grip on the Fang. "Let him. I'll kill him next time."
Selene looked into his eyes and saw the war raging inside him. Not just against Lucien, or the High Priestess, but against the ancient power rising in his own blood.
"We'll face it together," she said, determination settling over her like armor.
Damon's expression softened, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. "Together. Always."
They turned away from the shrine, their path darker and more dangerous than ever.
But neither of them looked back.
The war for blood, power, and love had only just begun.