The mountains clawed at the sky like jagged teeth as Torin led the way through the darkened ridge. Frost cracked beneath their boots, and mist curled like breath from the stones. This place was dead. And it didn't want to be disturbed.
"We shouldn't be here," Sera muttered under her breath, eyes darting to the treeline.
"Exactly why we need to be," Torin growled.
He moved fast, ignoring the wind that howled around them. Every step was a reminder of what was at stake.
Lyra.
Her name was a fire in his chest.
He could still feel her, even across the miles — a faint thread in the back of his mind, like a whisper wrapped in pain. The bond was weak but intact. And it told him one thing:
She was still fighting.
And he had to move faster.
The path narrowed ahead, and the trees thinned until they reached a clearing. What lay at the center was less a ruin and more a scar — a cratered valley with blackened stones and shattered columns twisted by time and magic.
The Blood Temple.
Or what was left of it.
Sera came up beside him, her voice quiet. "You really think answers are here?"
"I think this place was buried for a reason," Torin said. "And whatever that reason is, it's connected to her."
He didn't need to explain who her meant.
The bond pulsed again. Stronger.
Torin's eyes snapped upward. "She's close."
"Here?" Sera asked, startled.
"Not physically. But spiritually. Her magic... it's echoing here. Calling."
He stepped forward.
The moment his boot hit the scorched ground, something shifted. A ripple through the air. Like a breath sucked in by the earth itself.
And then a voice.
"You return."
Torin froze.
It wasn't spoken aloud. It entered his mind. Cold. Ancient. Female.
"Who are you?" he demanded, out loud.
The shadows thickened, and from the ashes, a figure rose.
Not human. Not spirit. Something in between.
She was draped in red silk, her eyes hollow as the void. Her hands bled without end, though the blood evaporated before it could fall.
"I am the Keeper," she said. "Of memory. Of magic. Of ruin."
Sera drew her blade, but Torin held out a hand. "Wait."
The Keeper turned her empty eyes to him. "You bear the mark."
He nodded. "The bond."
"You've touched the cursed flame and lived. Few have. Fewer still have dared to answer it."
"I didn't choose this."
"No," the Keeper agreed. "But you embraced it. And now you must understand what that means."
She stepped back, and the earth trembled.
Then—stone split.
A hole opened at the temple's heart, descending into darkness. The stench of ancient magic hit them like a wave — blood, ash, and bone.
"The truth lies below," she whispered.
Torin didn't hesitate.
He climbed down.
The tunnel wound deep beneath the earth, lit by flickers of crimson light glowing from veins in the stone. The deeper they went, the colder it became — not physical cold, but soul deep.
Torin's breath fogged. His heartbeat slowed.
He wasn't sure how long they walked, but eventually, they reached a chamber.
Massive. Silent. Covered in murals.
And every one of them depicted a pair — a vampire and a wolf — bound together by blood and fate.
"This…" Sera whispered. "This is a tomb of bond-bearers."
Torin stepped toward one of the murals. The vampire woman in it looked eerily like Lyra.
Then something shifted.
Not the mural.
His mind.
A vision hit him like a wave.
---
Torin stood in the same chamber — only it wasn't a ruin.
It was whole. Glowing.
Lyra was beside him. Dressed in ceremonial red. Her eyes locked on his.
"Do you accept this bond?" a voice boomed.
He couldn't speak. Couldn't move.
Lyra took his hand.
"I do," she said.
Blood spilled from her palm into his.
Then the world shattered.
---
He gasped, stumbling back into the present.
Sera caught him. "What was that?!"
"I saw… I saw us. Here. Long ago. Like it had already happened."
"Reincarnation?" she asked, voice shaken.
"Or fate," he muttered.
Another pulse from the bond.
Stronger.
More urgent.
"She's in danger," he growled. "Real danger. And they're using her blood."
He looked up at the mural again.
And this time, he saw it:
In every generation, the vampire-wolf bond ended in death. Either the world burned — or the bonded did.
Unless…
He turned to the Keeper.
"Tell me how to save her."
The Keeper's head tilted. "To break the cycle, you must do what none before you have done."
"And what's that?"
"You must resist the bond. You must become something more than instinct and blood."
"Meaning?"
"You must choose love," she said. "Not fate."
---
Lyra screamed loud as the rune burned against her skin.
Her mother stood over her, chanting words in a forgotten tongue.
Dagen circled like a jackal.
"You should be proud," he said. "You're about to become the doorway to the end."
"Why?" Lyra gasped. "Why destroy everything?"
"Because the world is broken," Dagen said. "Your people ruled from shadows. Mine lived like beasts. You and Torin were supposed to fix that — but love is a lie. Only power rewrites fate."
She clenched her jaw, blood dripping from her lips. "He'll come for me."
Dagen laughed. "Let him."
Another rune ignited.
Lyra's vision blurred.
The bond surged.
And for the first time—
She sent everything through it.
Her pain.
Her location.
Her fear.
And her love.
---
Torin dropped to one knee.
The signal hit him like a dagger to the chest.
"She's in the eastern sanctum," he breathed.
Sera looked at him. "You saw it?"
"I felt it. Every piece of it."
He rose.
His eyes glowed silver.
"We move. Now."
"What about the Keeper?" Sera asked.
But the temple was gone.
So was the chamber.
They were back in the ruins.
Time had twisted.
Magic had moved.
But one thing was clear—
This was the beginning of the war.
And they were done running.
---