Paris breathed beneath a spectral haze, as if the Seine had vomited its secrets onto the streets.Rasen adjusted his camera, capturing shadows twisting beneath the streetlamps.
But a scream froze him.—Stay away! I don't want your help!
The cry shattered the murmur of the crowd. A figure shrank against a stone wall, trembling. Tangled orange hair, filthy and matted. Torn clothes. And on her arms…
The burns. They weren't ordinary scars. Spirals carved into her skin. Symmetrical. Perfect. Exactly like the containment runes engraved on the silver parasol.
Sanathiel had rejected that symbol.But on Clear… they were alive. Beating beneath her skin. As if something trapped inside her was clawing to be free. As if she herself was the cage of something far greater.
And Rasen understood at once: she wasn't merely part of a sacrifice.She was the seal.And cages… always break.
—Clear? —The name burned his throat like poison.
The girl's blue eyes flickered, her mind struggling to recognize him. Then her gaze locked on his—not with relief, but with pure terror. As if seeing him confirmed her damnation. As if surviving this long only meant the true horror was about to begin.
And at her neck…The howling wolf pendant. The one Rasen had given her before losing her. But the metal sizzled, sparks crackling as if her very blood rejected it. As if it no longer belonged to her. As if it never had.
—Why didn't you come? —she whispered, collapsing into his arms.
Rasen wrapped her in his coat, ignoring the curious stares. Her body was light, hollow—like something had devoured her soul.As he walked, the streetlamps cast shadows that stretched into claws, pointing the way forward.
The hotel suite…
Lionel waited beside a smoky glass display. Inside, preserved hearts floated in formaldehyde, still faintly beating, labeled: Adrián, Itzel, Arceo.
—How touching, —Lionel murmured, watching Clear sleep—. Arcángel let her live. A beginner's mistake.
He drank from a goblet filled with living, bubbling blood. The liquid spilled across the marble, sketching a bleeding eye. The symbol of Arceo. Lionel glanced at it, then added with calm disdain:—He thinks he claimed the mark. But it's just another tool.
—Why her? —Rasen asked, hiding his trembling fist.
—Because her death will bind Sanathiel into my web, —Lionel replied, sliding him a photo of Aisha—. Protect her. For now.
When Lionel smiled, Rasen felt a chill run through his bones.There was no doubt in his words. Only certainty.
Falco's kitchen…
The blade glimmered in the half-light. Steven lunged at Aisha, his breath thick with hellebore—the poison that paralyzes werewolves.
Her limbs numbed, but her mind filled with images not her own.
A fleeting flashback:Centuries ago. A storm of fire devoured stone walls. Zaira, dressed in white, knelt within a circle of blood—her own blood. In her hands, the same dagger Aisha now gripped. But she didn't raise it against an enemy. She drove it into her chest.A sacrifice.A seal.
Arceo roared from within a fractured mirror. Zaira's last words before collapsing echoed:"Break the threads."
Back to the present.
Aisha gasped. Steven clutched her wrist. His eyes changed. He had seen it too.
—Falco used you! —he roared, brandishing the dagger carved with Arceo's eye—. Your blood will open the coffer!
The blade struck Zaira's portrait. The painting bled amber—the same blaze as Sanathiel's eyes. But something shifted. Zaira's eyes… opened. For one breathless second. And they fixed on Aisha.
A warning.Or a summons.The same whisper in her mind:"Break the threads."
Aisha wrenched the dagger free, her blood mixing with the painted wound. A ghostly light flared across the room. Steven staggered back. For the first time… he looked afraid. And in his broken voice:—No… she cannot awaken.
—My brother died rather than follow you, —Aisha cried, raising the blade—. I will live to see your end!
Steven stumbled, biting his lip until it bled.—If Itzel does not return… you and the White Wolf will pay.
In that instant, Aisha's hidden phone vibrated. A warm voice spilled into her ear:—I've waited long enough to meet you.
The name pulsed on the screen.Lionel.
Outside Falco's mansion…
A black Bentley waited. Lionel emerged carrying black roses, his golden eyes fixed on Aisha's blood.
—What a delicious charm, —he murmured, licking her wound with a predator's smile—. Sanathiel believes he's saving you… but you and I know the truth.
Aisha peered into the car. On the back seat lay a golden coffer. Inside, a heart beat beneath blood-soaked runes.
She didn't just see it. She heard it.Felt its pulse in her skull. Matching her heartbeat.Matching Sanathiel's.
Lionel followed her gaze and smiled, triumphant.—Exactly as I hoped, —he whispered—. The first of many.