Part I
The forest thickened around them the deeper they went. Black Hollow's trees grew ancient here—gnarled trunks twisted together like ribs of a sleeping beast. No sunlight touched the ground. The air was heavy with the scent of moss and iron, and every step sank into damp soil that seemed to breathe beneath their feet.
Lucian moved ahead of her, silent and sure-footed despite the mud. Aria followed close, her breath misting in the chill air. She had long since lost track of where they were. The path had dissolved behind them miles ago.
"How far?" she asked.
"Far enough that no one will find us." His voice was rough, quieter than the rain.
She didn't ask how he knew the way. The mark between them answered instead—a faint thrum under her skin, guiding her pulse to his. Sometimes she thought she could hear his heartbeat, steady and ancient, inside her own chest.
The forest opened suddenly into a clearing surrounded by cliffs of dark stone. A narrow stream cut through the center, glimmering like liquid moonlight. The air felt different here—still, but alive.
Lucian stopped. "We're here."
Aria looked around, confused. "There's nothing here."
He turned to her, the faintest smile touching his mouth. "That's the point."
He knelt beside the stream, brushing his fingers through the water. It rippled and shimmered—then something shifted. The reflection changed, showing not the sky but a cavern hidden beneath the cliffs, glowing faintly blue.
Aria gasped. "What is that?"
"The Hollow," he said. "Our sanctuary. The place my kind was born…and buried."
Before she could question him further, he grasped her wrist and drew her toward the water. "Hold your breath."
The chill hit like knives as they dove through. The world flipped—cold, soundless, endless—and then she was standing on smooth stone under soft blue light. Crystals jutted from the walls, glowing faintly. The air smelled ancient, metallic.
Lucian shook the water from his hair, the movement almost animal. Aria tried to steady herself, heart hammering. "You live here?"
"Not live," he said. "Hide."
He walked toward a shallow alcove carved into the rock. Torches flickered to life around them, their flames blue-white. The walls were etched with symbols—wolf sigils, spirals, marks that pulsed faintly with energy.
Aria ran her fingers along one. "What do they mean?"
"They tell the story of the curse," Lucian said, his tone low. "Before there were wolves, there were guardians. Protectors of the moon's balance. But one of us—one Alpha—wanted more. He drank from the moon's blood and was consumed. The first wolf. The curse spread through his bloodline—mine."
Aria turned to him, eyes wide. "And me? What am I now?"
Lucian hesitated, his expression unreadable. "You're what the prophecy warned of. The marked. A human touched by the Alpha's blood."
Her pulse quickened. "You said that prophecy was old. Maybe it's wrong."
His gaze softened. "I've spent my life hoping that. But the moon doesn't make mistakes."
Aria looked away, staring at the water dripping down the cavern walls. The air felt alive, pressing close around her. She could sense the mark glowing faintly beneath her skin, pulsing in time with the torches.
"What happens if the prophecy's true?" she whispered.
Lucian stepped closer until his breath warmed her ear. "Then either you save me…" He paused, his voice roughening. "Or you destroy me."
The silence that followed was heavy. Aria met his eyes—gray, rimmed with gold. The beast and the man both staring back. And for a moment, the fear that had followed her since that night in the woods melted into something else.
Something that burned.
Part II
The air inside the cavern thickened, pressing against Aria's lungs. The faint blue light flickered, shadows crawling along the walls like restless spirits. Lucian watched her carefully, as if waiting for something to happen.
"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, voice shaking slightly.
"To keep you alive," he said. "And to see if the Hollow will accept you."
"Accept me?"
He nodded once. "Every wolf born of the night has to pass through the Hollow. It decides whether you belong—or if the curse will eat you alive."
Before Aria could answer, the mark on her wrist began to burn. She gasped and stumbled backward, clutching her arm. The pain wasn't just physical; it felt like her veins were on fire, like something ancient inside her was trying to wake.
Lucian moved toward her, but the ground shuddered. The crystals in the walls pulsed brighter, flooding the cavern with cold light.
"Don't fight it," he said. "Let it in."
"I—I can't!"
The light wrapped around her like chains, dragging her to her knees. The sound that left her throat wasn't human—it was a snarl, raw and echoing. Her vision blurred, the edges glowing silver. Through the haze, she saw shapes in the light—wolves, hundreds of them, their eyes burning like stars.
One stepped forward. Its fur was white as bone, its gaze ancient. It lowered its head to her, pressing its muzzle against her chest. She felt its heartbeat against hers, deep and slow, then it vanished into her.
The pain stopped.
Aria fell forward, catching herself on trembling hands. Her breath came fast, every inhale filled with the scent of earth and power. The mark on her wrist now glowed faintly silver, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Lucian knelt beside her. "It's done."
"What—what happened to me?" she whispered.
He brushed his fingers against the mark. "The Hollow chose you. You're no longer just human."
Her head lifted sharply. "You mean—"
"Half wolf," he said. "Bound to me, by blood and by the moon."
Aria's heart slammed against her ribs. She should've felt terrified, furious even—but all she felt was the strange pull between them growing stronger. Every breath she took echoed his. Every beat of her heart matched his rhythm.
Lucian looked away first. "You shouldn't have survived that. No human ever has."
"Maybe I'm not like the others," she said quietly.
His eyes flicked back to her, sharp, almost feral. "No, you're not."
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the dripping of water from the ceiling. The Hollow's glow dimmed again, settling into a soft pulse like the steady beat of a living thing.
Aria finally spoke. "You said others come here… wolves. Your pack?"
"They're gone," he said simply. "The last of them died five winters ago. The Hollow buried them when the blood moon rose."
Her chest tightened. "You're alone?"
Lucian's expression didn't change, but his voice softened. "I was."
He reached for her hand, fingers brushing hers lightly. A spark passed between them—not the burning pain of the mark this time, but something warmer. Dangerous.
She didn't pull away.
"Lucian…" she whispered. "What if the prophecy's wrong? What if I wasn't meant to destroy you?"
He leaned closer until their foreheads touched. "Then maybe the moon made a mistake."
But the way his voice broke told her he didn't believe that.
A rumble echoed through the cavern before she could speak again. The torches flickered, then went out. Lucian's head snapped up. "No," he growled under his breath. "They found us."
"Who?"
He didn't answer. His eyes shifted—gray melting into gold, pupils narrowing to slits. "Stay behind me."
From the tunnel's mouth, shadows moved. Dozens of eyes glinted in the dark—wolves, but not of Lucian's bloodline. Their fur was darker, their scent twisted by corruption. Rogues.
Aria's newly awakened instincts screamed run, but her feet wouldn't move. The air was thick with their growls, a low chorus of death.
Lucian shifted in front of her, bones cracking, muscle reshaping until the Alpha stood on four legs—taller than any wolf she'd ever imagined, his fur black as the Hollow's stone, eyes glowing like fire.
The rogues lunged.
Lucian met them in a blur of movement and sound—snarls, claws, the clash of teeth on bone. The cavern became chaos. Blood sprayed across the stone, shining silver in the Hollow's light.
Aria pressed back against the wall, trembling, her mark burning hotter. She felt Lucian's pain as if it were her own, each wound echoing through her body.
Something inside her snapped.
Her breath deepened, and the world slowed. Her vision sharpened until she could see the smallest drop of blood hanging in the air. The sound of her pulse roared in her ears.
Then she moved—fast, impossible. Her nails curved into claws. Her voice broke into a growl that didn't sound human.
When she struck the first rogue, it didn't stand a chance.