The air was colder than death. Elara stood at the edge of the rift, staring into the swirling black void where Kael had disappeared. The Cursed Forest was quiet again, with no whispers, no wind, and not even the sound of her heartbeat. Only the faint echo of Kael's last words remained in her mind.
"Don't follow me."
But she couldn't do that. Not when the bond between them pulsed like a living thing beneath her skin. She could still feel him, faint and flickering like a dying flame, but still alive. Somewhere beyond that darkness, Kael was fighting. And she wouldn't let the curse take him. Not again.
Her pendant was gone, shattered during the battle. Now, only the crescent mark on her wrist glowed, brighter than ever. The runes on the ground pulsed in rhythm with it, as if waiting for her to make a choice. She knelt beside them, tracing one trembling finger over the ancient symbols.
"I don't know who you are," she whispered to the unseen presence that ruled this place, "but you took the wrong person."
The forest seemed to sigh—a low, sorrowful sound that echoed through the mist. The runes flared, and before Elara could take another breath, the ground beneath her gave way.
She fell.
Not through air but through shadows.
Darkness wrapped around her, whispering in forgotten languages. Memories that weren't hers flashed before her eyes—wolves howling under a blood moon, witches burning in silver flames, and a man's scream echoing through a crimson night. Then, suddenly, the fall ended.
Elara hit solid ground hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. She groaned and pushed herself up slowly. The world around her was dim and colorless—a landscape of twisted trees and blackened soil. The air smelled of iron and decay. Above her, the moon appeared wrong—too close, too red, too alive.
"The Shadow Realm…" she whispered. "He brought him here."
A voice answered from behind her, soft, melodic, almost kind. "He didn't bring him. You did."
Elara spun around. Standing a few feet away was the same cloaked figure from the forest. Now, his hood was down. He wasn't a monster at all; he was beautiful in a way that made her heart ache. He had pale skin, golden eyes that gleamed like molten metal, and hair as black as midnight.
"You…" she breathed. "Who are you?"
He smiled faintly. "Once, I was called many things. A king. A curse. A god. But to you, I suppose I'm just the one who remembers."
She took a cautious step back. "You're the one who cursed Kael's bloodline."
"No." His expression softened. "I'm the one who was cursed by your grandmother. The curse simply chose a vessel to survive in—his pack."
Elara's pulse quickened. "You're lying."
"Am I?" He moved closer, his voice low and calm. "You've seen the visions, haven't you? The burning village, the crimson moon, the witch who wept. Your grandmother sealed away the darkness, but she didn't destroy it. She bound it to blood. His blood. The Alpha's blood."
Her mind spun. "You're saying Kael carries your curse."
He nodded once. "And every time his pack dies, the curse grows stronger. Every time you use your magic to save him, it binds tighter to your soul."
Elara shook her head. "No… I can break it. I'll find him and—"
"You'll die trying," he interrupted softly. "Because you don't understand what he truly is."
Before she could respond, a tremor rolled through the ground. The air shimmered, and she saw him—Kael—kneeling on the blackened earth. Chains of glowing red energy wrapped around his wrists and throat, binding him to a massive stone altar. His eyes were closed, and his body trembled with pain.
"Kael!" she cried, running toward him. But the stranger raised a hand, and shadows surged up like a wall, blocking her path.
"Every step you take toward him strengthens the curse," he warned. "He's not your salvation, Elara. He's your undoing."
She glared at him, her magic sparking around her fingertips. "Then I'll be undone."
Her power burst forth, slamming into the wall of shadows. The impact tore through the silence, scattering black mist in every direction. For a moment, she thought she saw something—a figure moving behind the curtain of darkness, its form twisted and monstrous, wearing Kael's face but not his soul.
"Elara…"
His voice was different now—layered, distorted, filled with pain and something far worse. "Why did you follow me?"
She froze. "Because I can't lose you."
He lifted his head slowly. His eyes were no longer gold; they were red.
The stranger's voice echoed beside her, soft and regretful. "You see now? The curse isn't just inside him. It is him."
Elara's magic faltered. "No… that's not true."
Kael strained against the chains, the runes burning into his skin. "You have to leave," he rasped. "Before it takes me completely."
"I won't!" she shouted, tears streaking down her face. "I don't care what it costs. I'll save you."
For a brief second, something human flickered in his expression—pain, love, guilt. But then his body convulsed, and a dark laugh tore from his throat. The chains shattered, and the ground split open beneath him.
"Elara!"
The shadow creature lunged forward, its claws cutting through the air where Kael had stood. Elara threw up her hands, her magic colliding with his darkness in a blinding explosion.
When the light cleared, the altar was gone. So was Kael.
In the center of the cracked earth, only a single mark remained—the symbol of the Alpha's curse, now burning bright on the ground where he had stood.
Elara fell to her knees, sobbing. The stranger's voice came again, almost tender.
"He's still alive," he said. "But not for long. If you wish to save him, you'll have to walk the same path your grandmother once did."
Elara lifted her tear-streaked face. "The same path?"
He smiled—sad, knowing. "The path of the damned."
The moon above them pulsed red, casting long shadows across the ruined earth. Elara clenched her fists, her voice breaking as she whispered into the darkness—
"Then damn me too."
The shadows stirred in response, whispering her name over and over until they became a single, haunting chant:
"Elara of the Blood Moon."