The city lights shimmered like stars trapped beneath a glass ceiling. Rain slicked the pavement, turning every street into a mirror, fractured and shifting. Selene stood at the edge of the sidewalk, her heart thudding with the primal beat of something she didn't want to name.
Across the street, Killian stood beneath the awning of a rooftop lounge, his silhouette cast in gold by the warm light behind him. He wasn't supposed to be there—not here, not tonight.
But fate, cruel and relentless, had other plans.
Her breath caught as his gaze found hers.
Eyes like midnight. Stormy. Piercing.
And for a second, she swore she saw the wolf.
---
Earlier That Evening
Selene tugged her coat tighter around her shoulders as she stepped out of the hospital. A long shift, too many patients, and the lingering scent of antiseptic still clinging to her skin. The night air tasted of iron and thunder. The moon would rise full in less than an hour.
She hated full moons.
Her hands trembled—not from fear but from memory. Her wolf stirred beneath the surface, agitated, restless.
"Selene."
She turned. Her friend, Lila, hurried down the steps. "You forgot your ID badge."
"Thanks," she mumbled.
"You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Ghost? No. Worse. She'd seen him.
"I just need sleep," she lied.
Lila frowned. "You sure? Word is the new CEO's in town. Might be doing surprise rounds tonight."
Selene's stomach dropped.
No. He wouldn't. Not now. Not tonight.
---
Now
Killian didn't move.
Selene's heels clicked against wet pavement as she crossed the street. Her heart screamed with every step: run. But her legs carried her forward.
She stopped just feet away from him.
He tilted his head. "Have we met?"
The question cut through her. Of course he didn't recognize her. Not in the dim light. Not with her hood up. Not after all these years.
"No," she whispered.
A flash of disappointment crossed his face. "You just... look familiar."
Lightning cracked the sky.
Selene's wolf recoiled.
She needed to leave. Now.
"I have to go," she said quickly.
But Killian reached out, his fingers brushing her wrist. Just a touch.
And that was all it took.
A jolt surged through her. A pull—fierce, magnetic, ancient.
His eyes widened.
"Wait."
But she was already gone, darting into the shadows.
---
Elsewhere
In the basement of a rundown motel, three rogues sat in silence. One lit a match with a flick of his nail, watching the flame twist.
"The heir's in the city," he muttered.
"Tonight's the full moon," another replied.
The third one smirked, revealing yellowed fangs. "Then tonight, we strike."
---
Back in the Apartment
Selene burst through the door, locking it behind her.
"Aiden," she called softly.
A tiny voice replied, "Mommy?"
He was curled up on the couch, golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
She knelt before him. "You feel it too, don't you?"
He nodded, pressing his little hand to her cheek.
"Does it mean the bad wolves are coming?" he asked.
Her heart cracked.
"Yes, baby. But I won't let them touch you. I swear."
Aiden's eyes narrowed. "I'll protect you too."
Selene hugged him tight, whispering the lullaby her mother once sang. But outside, the wind howled with warning.
And far away, Killian's wolf was already stirring.
Shadows Beneath the Silver Light
The night was deceptively silent.
Selene stood at the edge of the rooftop, her cloak billowing in the cold wind that whispered secrets only witches could hear. Below her, the alleyways of Greystone throbbed with hidden movement—shadows crawling in corners, enchantments woven into the concrete itself.
She wasn't alone.
Killian, cloaked in a navy jacket that did little to hide his growing restlessness, watched her closely from the doorway. His amber eyes had shifted—subtly—but enough for her to sense the beast stirring behind them.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered, not turning around.
"You shouldn't be alone," he countered, voice lower than usual. "Especially not tonight."
She finally faced him, her lips pale, her fingers still glowing faintly from the locator spell she'd just finished. "There's something here. Something old. It's buried… but it's awake now."
Killian crossed the rooftop and stood beside her. His breath fogged the air.
Suddenly, a low growl vibrated from his throat.
Selene tensed. "Your control is slipping."
"I can feel it, too," he rasped. "Something in this city—it's drawing me out. The moon's not even full yet."
They were interrupted by a jarring pulse of dark energy from the alley below. Selene staggered, clutching her head. Visions slammed into her: a woman screaming in Latin, a ritual circle scorched into marble, a baby crying… and then a flash of violet eyes—her mother's.
Killian caught her before she fell.
"What did you see?" he demanded.
"My past," she choked out. "But also… our future."
Just then, the clouds parted.
A sliver of moonlight slipped through.
And Killian's pupils dilated, his body tensing, teeth elongating—not fully, but dangerously close.
He snarled, turning away from her. "Get back, Selene."
But she didn't run.
Instead, she stepped forward, placed her hand on his chest, and said with trembling conviction, "I won't let the curse take you. Not tonight."
A moment of silence. Then his body stilled under her touch. The beast within him growled… but didn't take over.
Not yet.
Bloodlines and Betrayals
The tension in Killian's muscles ebbed slowly, his beast subsiding under the calm pressure of Selene's magic-laced touch.
She didn't move her hand from his chest.
"Whatever's pulling at you," she murmured, "it's connected to the sigil I saw in my vision."
Killian blinked, struggling to find his breath. "Describe it."
She reached into her coat, drawing out a small, charred journal—her mother's. She flipped to a torn page, fingers trembling.
The sketch was rough but unmistakable: a six-pointed star etched within a circle, surrounded by old runes neither of them could read fully. Blood had stained the edges.
Killian stared. "That's a binding seal."
"It's more than that." Selene flipped the next page. A spell, written in a language older than any she'd studied, glowed faintly under the moonlight.
She tapped the heading. "'Sanguinem Vinculum'—The Blood Bonding."
Killian's eyes widened. "That's forbidden. It binds not just souls, but destinies. The magic is irreversible."
Her voice dropped. "My mother didn't bind herself to my father. She bound herself to the curse. And that curse is trying to continue through me."
A long silence.
Then Killian looked up, a chilling realization dawning. "That's why the shadows are stirring. They're drawn to bloodlines. And yours… is the key."
Suddenly, the ground beneath them shook.
Rising from the alley below, a figure emerged—hooded, faceless, cloaked in smoke and whispering in a language neither of them could understand.
Selene instinctively raised her hand, but her spell sputtered—like the magic recognized the stranger and refused to fight.
The figure spoke at last. "Daughter of Virelle. Your blood has been claimed."
And then—it vanished.
Selene stood frozen, breath shallow.
Killian stepped closer, voice hushed but sharp. "Who was Virelle?"
Selene's eyes met his, her expression unreadable.
"My real name… is Selene Virelle Nacht."
The Inheritance of Shadows
The silence after Selene's revelation was louder than any scream.
Killian stared at her. "Nacht… That name—it's one of the Six Founders."
Selene nodded slowly. "My mother hid it. Said it would protect me. But Virelle Nacht was more than a name. She was the architect of the curse. The origin of the Sixfold Binding."
Killian backed away. "You're a direct heir of the witch who cast the first blood-curse?"
"I didn't choose this," Selene said sharply. "I've spent my whole life trying to run from her magic, from her legacy. But I can't anymore. The curse is alive—through me."
She reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out a thin silver chain. At its end hung a pendant, pulsing with a faint, eerie glow—like it breathed with her heartbeat.
"The Hexbound Medallion," Killian whispered. "That's a relic of binding. No one's seen one in centuries."
"It called to me after the shadows appeared," Selene said. "It was buried with my mother. When I held it… I saw visions—her death, the ritual, the betrayal."
Killian's breath caught. "You opened a tether."
She nodded. "And I can't close it."
Suddenly, wind burst through the abandoned chapel windows, scattering dust and cinders. The pendant flared—red, then black.
Voices echoed from the walls. Not just one, but many. Whispering in unison. Blood calls to blood… The sixth must awaken…
Selene fell to her knees, clutching her head as the voices grew louder.
Killian rushed to her, grabbing the medallion and trying to pull it off her neck, but the chain tightened like a noose, cutting into her skin.
"Stop!" Selene gasped. "If you break it, you break me."
He froze.
Her eyes flickered open—now glowing faint violet. "She's waking inside me, Killian. My ancestor."
Killian gritted his teeth. "Then I'll stop her before she takes you."
She looked up, the fear in her expression cracking into a bitter smile. "You'd kill me?"
He knelt beside her, voice low. "No. But I'll bind her. And if I fail… I'll die trying."
The wind stilled. The pendant dimmed.
Selene slumped against him. "Then we face her together."
The Witch Wakes Within
The hush after the storm was laced with something cruel.
Selene trembled in Killian's arms as the pendant cooled, but the silence wasn't peace—it was restraint. Something beneath her skin seethed. Then—her back arched.
A guttural cry burst from her lips.
Killian caught her shoulders. "Selene—look at me!"
But her eyes were no longer violet. They were obsidian, rimmed with silver flames.
A voice spoke from her mouth—sharp, ageless, female.
"You are too late, boy."
Killian staggered back. "Virelle."
The presence inside Selene smiled, cold and unnatural. "You wear his scent—the line of Fenlor. A cursed bloodline, always begging for forgiveness it never earned."
"Get out of her!" Killian growled, drawing his dagger, its runes flaring blue.
Virelle's laughter echoed across the room, distorting the walls with its weight. "You think steel can stop spirit?"
Selene's hands raised—unwillingly. A pulse of dark fire surged forward, slamming Killian into the chapel wall with brutal force. The dagger clattered away, smoking.
"I don't want this," Selene gasped beneath the surface, her voice faint, echoing inside the same mouth Virelle now possessed. "Killian, fight her…"
The pendant blazed again, caught between the two wills battling inside Selene. Virelle shrieked in fury.
"You dare resist me, child of my blood?!"
Selene screamed as magic ripped through her veins. Her body convulsed. The air thickened, dark symbols swirling like smoke around her.
Killian, bleeding, crawled toward the fallen dagger. "I don't need to kill you," he whispered, "I just need to remind her… who she is."
He stabbed the dagger into the ground and chanted, "By pact and name, by bond and flame—Selene Nacht, return to claim your soul!"
A violent explosion of light burst from the dagger. Virelle howled.
Selene's body jerked back, and her eyes flickered. For one terrible moment, two spirits warred in one shell.
Then… silence.
Selene collapsed.
Killian caught her just before her head hit stone. Her breath was shallow, but her eyes opened—clear, blue, and terrified.
"I held her off," she whispered. "But she's in me now. Watching."
Killian cupped her face, brushing sweat from her brow. "Then we bind her. Together. Or we both burn trying."
Selene's voice cracked. "We just made ourselves the enemies of both realms. Magic… and man."
Killian smiled grimly. "Good. Let them come."
The Council of Silence
The mountain didn't exist on any map. Not anymore.
It loomed like a broken tooth from the earth, blackened by ash, scarred by time. Beneath it—buried under wards older than nations—lay the hidden stronghold of the Hexbound Council.
Selene and Killian stood before its sealed gates, their hands still marked from the ritual that tethered them together—her light, his blood.
"They'll try to tear us apart the moment we enter," Selene warned, her breath fogging in the thin air. "They fear anyone they can't control."
Killian's jaw tightened. "Then they'll see why they should fear us."
The obsidian doors opened without a touch.
Inside, twelve shadowed figures stood around a stone circle—the Hexbound Council. Each cloaked. Each ancient. Each bound by magic and oath.
A voice echoed, toneless and powerful. "Selene Nacht. Tainted. Possessed. Marked by the witch Virelle. Why have you dared step into sacred ground?"
Selene stepped forward. No trembling. No hiding.
"To end the curse," she said. "To face what your laws refused to."
Another voice spat, "You brought him?" Their eyes turned to Killian. "A Fenlor heir? The same bloodline that created the curse?"
Killian raised his chin. "I'm not my ancestors. I'm the weapon they forged. And now I'm pointing it at the curse."
The chamber darkened as the Council's enchantments twisted. One figure stepped forward—the Archon.
"Then face the Trial of Thorns. If you live… we listen. If you fall… you die forgotten."
Without warning, vines of pure energy erupted from the floor, binding their arms. Selene screamed as one wrapped around her heart, sensing the darkness inside her.
Virelle stirred, laughing inside Selene's chest. "They want a trial? Give them death instead."
Selene grit her teeth. "No. I choose to fight you. Not with you."
She turned her will inward, summoning every lesson, every scar, every drop of strength the past days had carved into her.
The vines shattered with a pulse of silver light.
Killian, bleeding from the mouth, forced himself upright, drawing his rune blade. "Try again," he challenged the Council. "We are no one's puppets."
The chamber stilled.
For the first time in centuries, the Council didn't respond with punishment.
They responded with silence.
Then a single phrase from the Archon:
"The old laws no longer bind you. But they no longer protect you either."
The gates reopened behind them. They were free to go—but now truly hunted. Marked. And watched.
Selene looked at Killian. "So we're alone?"
He shook his head.
"No," he said. "We're legends in the making."
The Vault of Echoed Lies
They left the Council's stone halls behind with ash in their lungs and steel in their spines.
By twilight, they had reached the edge of the Gloam Mire—a swamp where time whispered and the wind recited old names like lullabies for the dead.
"This is where the Sixth Curse was sealed," Selene murmured, tracing the edges of an old, hexed map. "Before the war… before any of us were born."
Killian touched the hilt of his blade. "And this is where we'll break it."
The vault's entrance was submerged beneath water dark as spilled ink. They dove, side by side, guided by moonlight and memory. Selene's spell flared—a key of starlight—and parted the veil between worlds.
What waited inside was not a crypt.
It was a library. A sanctuary. A shrine.
Walls pulsed with life—glyphs glowing faintly in languages forgotten by even the Council. At the center: a mirrored pedestal, atop which lay a bound book sealed with six blood-locks.
Selene approached, breath caught. "It's real."
Killian nodded. "The Hex Journal. Where it all began."
But the silence cracked.
A hiss. A shimmer. A betrayal.
"Selene," a voice said from behind—familiar, sharp, cold. "Step away from the book."
She turned.
Aria.
Her former mentor. Her closest friend. The one she had buried in the ruins of the Citadel.
Alive.
And not alone.
Behind her stood Council agents—cloaked, faces obscured, symbols of loyalty etched into their skin.
Killian drew his blade. "You sold us out."
Aria's eyes burned with bitter regret. "No. I saved you. That book doesn't free the world—it ends it. The Sixth Curse wasn't made to destroy magic. It was made to control it."
Selene stepped between them. "You could've told me."
"I tried," Aria whispered. "But you were already infected. You're too close to it now. Too… bonded."
Selene's fingers brushed the book. It pulsed under her touch, resonating with her curse—and something deeper.
Killian raised his voice. "You want to destroy it?"
Aria hesitated. "I want to bury it. Forever."
But Selene shook her head.
"No. We're not burying the truth. Not anymore."
She placed her palm on the final lock, and her blood—bright and silver—poured into the seal.
The book opened.
The vault trembled.
And a name—older than time—rose from the pages in a voice that echoed inside them all:
"I remember you, Selene Nacht."