Light swallowed everything. For a heartbeat there was no sound, only the hum of power flooding through her chest. Then the world crashed back: thunder, rain, and Calen's voice cutting through the glare.
"Elena!"
She couldn't answer. The light ran through her like fire through glass, and she saw flashes—silver roots twisting under the soil, threads of energy that pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. When the brightness finally faded, she was on her knees in the mud, gasping.
Calen knelt beside her, his hand hovering at her shoulder. "Talk to me. Are you hurt?"
She looked down. The mark over her heart glowed faintly, the same pattern the vine had drawn on the ground. The light sank into her skin and vanished, leaving only warmth behind.
"I think… it connected," she said softly.
Yara reached them, rain streaming from her cloak. Her eyes darted from Elena to the scorched patch of earth where the vine had been. "Connected to what?"
Elena shook her head. "I don't know. It wasn't trying to attack. It wanted me to see something."
Calen stood and offered his hand. When she took it, a pulse went through both of them—small but sharp, enough that they both flinched.
Yara saw it. "The bond is strengthening faster than it should."
Calen steadied Elena. "What does that mean for her?"
"For both of you," Yara said. "The bond's power will either settle or consume you. We must learn which before the next full moon."
Elena's gaze went to the trees. Every shadow seemed alive. "If it keeps growing, I'll hurt someone again."
Calen's tone left no room for doubt. "We'll train until you don't."
They walked back through the rain to the den. The pack's torches burned in the distance, a thin line of orange against the dark. When they reached the doorway, Calen paused. "They'll ask questions about the light. Let me answer them."
"You don't have to protect me from them," she said.
He met her eyes. "Maybe I'm protecting them from what they don't understand yet."
Inside, the fire had died. She wrapped herself in a blanket and listened to the storm beat against the roof. Calen stayed by the entrance, water dripping from his hair. For a long time neither spoke.
At last she said, "When it happened, I saw something—silver vines everywhere, like veins under the world. They were alive."
"That's what feeds the bond," he said quietly. "The old magic. It used to flow through every Alpha line before the curse twisted it."
"And now?"
"Now it sleeps. Until you woke it."
His words should have frightened her, but they didn't. Instead she felt a strange calm. "If this bond kills you—"
"It won't," he said. "Not if we master it first."
Yara's voice came from the doorway. "Then we begin again at dawn." She set a small bundle on the table. "Chamomile and valerian. Drink it, both of you. You need rest before the next trial."
After she left, Elena poured two cups. They drank in silence. The herbs dulled the edges of her nerves, but her mind still raced. She could feel Calen's heartbeat even from across the room, faint but steady.
When she finally lay down, she dreamed of the vines again, except this time they weren't silver—they were black, coiling around Calen's throat.
She woke before dawn, heart pounding. Calen was already awake, sitting near the door with his sword across his knees.
"Bad dream?" he asked without turning.
"About you."
"I guessed." He looked at her then, his eyes dark under the pale light. "The curse feeds on fear. Don't let it see yours."
"I can't just stop feeling."
"Then feel something else. Anger. Defiance. Anything stronger."
Yara entered quietly, carrying a small bowl of ash mixed with oil. "This is from the vine that marked you. It might help us trace the source of its call."
She drew a small circle on Elena's palm with the mixture. The mark shimmered faintly, then faded.
"Now, reach for the bond," Yara said.
Elena closed her eyes. At first there was nothing. Then warmth bloomed in her chest—Calen's heartbeat, the scent of pine, the weight of his presence. She followed it inward until she saw the vines again, endless threads woven beneath her skin.
"They're alive," she whispered.
"Pull one," Yara said.
She hesitated. "What if it snaps?"
"Then we'll learn what happens when it does."
Elena reached for the nearest thread. It pulsed once and unwound, curling around her wrist like a living ribbon. She gasped.
Calen flinched as if struck. "Elena, stop."
The ribbon tightened. Power surged through both of them, bright and hot. The air shimmered. Yara shouted something, but her voice blurred. Then the light burst outward, throwing them apart.
When the brightness faded, Calen was on one knee, breathing hard. The cut on his arm from the vines had vanished.
Yara stared. "You healed him."
Elena looked at her hands. "I didn't try to."
"It seems the bond gives as well as takes," Yara murmured. "You draw from his strength, and he draws from your life."
Calen rose slowly. "So if she dies…"
Yara nodded. "The curse breaks—and so do you."
Elena's throat tightened. "There has to be another way."
"There might be," Yara said, "but it will require you to face the source of the vines. The heart of the forest."
Calen frowned. "That place is forbidden."
"So is letting the curse consume the Alpha line," Yara said. "Choose which law matters more."
Rain still fell outside, softer now. Elena turned toward the sound. "Then we go."
Calen's hand brushed hers. "Not tonight. You need strength."
"I won't have more tomorrow."
Their eyes met. He saw the same resolve in her that had carried her through every rejection, every humiliation. Finally, he nodded.
"Then we go," he said.
They prepared quickly—cloaks, blades, torches. The pack still slept when they slipped into the trees. The forest was quiet except for the rain dripping from leaves.
As they walked, Elena felt the pull of the vines under her skin, leading her deeper between the trunks. The air grew colder, heavier with magic.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered.
"Yes," Calen said. "The ground hums."
They reached a clearing where the trees formed a perfect circle. In the center stood a single vine, thicker than a man's arm, its surface glinting silver under the moonlight.
"That's it," Yara said behind them, breathless. She had followed silently. "The heart."
Elena stepped forward. The mark on her chest flared. The vine shivered, recognizing her.
Calen caught her arm. "Careful."
"It's not hostile," she said. "It's waiting."
She laid her hand on the surface. The vine pulsed once, and visions flooded her mind—wolves running under twin moons, a curse whispered by an ancient Alpha, a promise of balance broken by pride.
When she pulled back, tears burned her eyes. "The curse began with love," she said. "An Alpha tried to bind his mate's soul to his own so they'd never part. When she died, the bond twisted. Now it binds pain instead."
Calen's voice was low. "And we're trapped in its echo."
Yara's gaze went to Elena. "You can change it. The Anchor can rewrite the bond if she learns control."
Elena touched the vine again. It warmed beneath her palm. "Then I'll learn."
But the vine suddenly recoiled, shrinking away. The ground trembled. From the shadows beyond the clearing came a sound—growling, deep, and furious. Eyes glinted in the dark.
Calen drew his sword. "We're not alone."
Figures moved between the trees—wolves twisted by the curse, their fur streaked with silver veins, their eyes wild.
Yara whispered, "The cursed pack. The bond's guardians."
Elena stepped back, heart hammering. "What do we do?"
Calen lifted his blade. "We fight."
The first wolf lunged. He met it midair, steel flashing. Elena felt the impact through the bond as if she'd been struck herself. She cried out, and power leapt from her hands, forming a barrier of light that knocked the creature aside.
More shapes poured from the trees. Calen fought with silent precision, but for every beast that fell, another emerged. The ground pulsed with the same rhythm as Elena's mark.
"Yara!" she shouted. "I can feel them—they're tied to the vines!"
"Then sever the tie!"
Elena closed her eyes and reached inward. She found the network of vines again, threads of silver and black twisting together. She focused on the black ones, the ones that reeked of decay, and pulled.
Pain lanced through her chest, but she didn't stop. One by one the dark vines snapped. The wolves screamed, their bodies dissolving into mist.
When it was over, silence fell. The heart vine still glowed faintly, pure silver now.
Elena collapsed, shaking. Calen caught her before she hit the ground.
"You did it," he said.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "For now."
The mark on her chest flickered, brighter than ever. "But it's not over. The curse knows we're coming."
Lightning flashed overhead, and for a moment she saw the shadow of a figure beyond the trees—tall, cloaked, watching. Then it was gone.
Calen tightened his grip on her hand. "Then we go faster."
Rain started again, cold and clean, washing the blood from the ground. The vines glowed softly around them, no longer hostile, but waiting.
Elena looked up at Calen, breath uneven. "If love began this curse," she said, "maybe love can end it."
He didn't answer, but his hand stayed in hers as they turned toward the deeper forest, where the light of the vines faded into darkness.