The moon was bleeding.
A red haze veiled its face, casting the forest in a dim, otherworldly glow. The howls had not stopped since midnight — a chorus of wolves crying toward the same unreachable sky.
At the center of it all stood Damian, bare-chested and trembling, his eyes glowing like dying stars. Power surged through him, raw and unstable, his claws half-extended though he hadn't willed the shift.
He had felt her. He knew it wasn't a dream. The mark was gone, yes — but the echo, the memory of their bond, still pulsed faintly beneath his ribs like an afterimage burned into his soul.
"Alpha," Eli said from behind him, voice low. "You've been out here since dusk. The others are starting to—"
"I don't care."
Damian's voice was a snarl, sharp enough to make the younger wolf fall silent. His hands clenched, digging into the cold soil. The moonlight shimmered across his skin, tracing the scar where the bond mark once glowed.
He remembered how it had burned away — the night she vanished. The scent of her blood, the silence that followed. The moment his world hollowed out.
And now, suddenly, a spark.
A heartbeat in the void.
"She's alive," he whispered.
Eli hesitated. "You don't know that. The witches—"
"I know." Damian turned, eyes burning. "You think I wouldn't know if she was gone for good? You think I wouldn't feel it?"
Eli swallowed. "Then what do we do?"
Damian lifted his gaze to the bleeding moon. "We find a way to reach her. Even if it means tearing through the gates of heaven."
---
Inside his war tent, maps littered the table. Ancient scrolls, bloodstained letters, forbidden incantations from the old priesthood — all spread before him like an altar of obsession.
The council gathered around, their faces grim.
"Alpha," one of the elders began, "if you challenge the gods, you'll doom us all. They'll crush this pack. They'll burn the lands until not even our bones remain."
Damian didn't look up. "Then they'll learn that even gods can bleed."
"Damian—"
He slammed his fist onto the table, cracking the wood. "She was taken because of me. Because I challenged their will, because I loved her beyond what they allowed. So tell me, elder, should I now kneel to the same heavens that stole her?"
Silence.
Only the fire crackled, throwing wild shadows across his face. The room smelled of pine, smoke, and fury.
Eli spoke softly, carefully. "If what you're saying is true… if she's still alive… then she may not be the same."
Damian's eyes darkened. "She's still mine."
---
In the forest beyond the encampment, he found his solitude again. He knelt beside the river that glimmered like liquid steel under the moonlight. His reflection stared back — tired, haunted, wolf and man both fraying at the edges.
"She would hate me for what I'm about to do," he murmured. "But she'd understand."
He reached into his cloak and drew a blade — old and curved, carved from the fang of a celestial beast. The last remnant of the First War, the blade that could pierce realms.
It hummed when it touched the air, vibrating with a hunger that wasn't entirely its own.
Damian pressed the flat of it against his chest, over the place where her mark once burned.
"I'll find you," he whispered. "Even if I have to die in every world to do it."
The blade pulsed — and somewhere far above, in the fractured light between realms, the air rippled.
---
Meanwhile, Aria moved through the ruins of the mountain temple, barefoot and cloaked in mist.
She had not slept since her return. The Astral Realm's residue still clung to her — every breath humming with power she didn't yet understand. The silver fire beneath her skin refused to fade. It pulsed with the rhythm of something alive, something divine.
And yet, beneath it all, was the ache — a hollow space where his presence used to be.
Her body remembered him. The warmth of his breath, the weight of his touch. The bond mark may have burned away, but love — love had teeth.
She pressed her hand to her chest. "Don't fade," she whispered to herself. "Not yet."
The temple shuddered, dust falling from the carved ceiling. A voice echoed through the vast hall — low, melodic, and cruel.
"So the lost child returns."
Aria spun. Shadows crawled along the walls until they took shape — the Oracle of the Moon, draped in black silk, her eyes blind and glowing.
"You were not meant to return," the Oracle said. "The goddess gave you a choice, and you broke it."
"I chose myself."
The Oracle's lips curved faintly. "And for that, you've unbalanced everything. The veil between realms is bleeding. The Alpha calls for you through forbidden ways. He would destroy creation itself just to touch you again."
Aria's heart stumbled. "He's… trying to reach me?"
"Foolish love," the Oracle sighed. "It is the sharpest form of rebellion."
Aria stepped forward. "Tell me how to find him."
The Oracle tilted her head. "If you go to him now, the goddess will hunt you both. You'll burn every thread that binds the mortal and divine."
Aria's gaze hardened. "Then let it burn."
---
The Oracle smiled — the kind of smile reserved for doomed heroes. "Very well."
She lifted her hand, and the floor split open. A pool of silver light shimmered at their feet, swirling with stars and memories.
"The path to him is through the Echo Gate," the Oracle said. "It requires a tether — a bond of soul or blood. Yours was severed."
Aria's throat tightened. "Then I'll make a new one."
The Oracle studied her. "Do you know what that means?"
"Yes." Aria's voice was steady. "It means giving up what's left of my humanity."
The Oracle nodded slowly. "You truly are your goddess's creation — stubborn, bright, unyielding."
She pressed her palms together. The silver light rose, wrapping around Aria's body.
"When you cross the Gate, the bond will remake itself — but incomplete. You will be tied not by destiny, but by choice."
Aria closed her eyes. "That's all I ever wanted."
---
Back on the battlefield, Damian stood beneath the bleeding moon, the celestial blade glowing in his hand.
Eli and the others watched from a distance, fear etched into their faces as the Alpha lifted the weapon and dragged it through the air.
Reality split.
A seam of silver fire opened, swirling like a wound between worlds. The forest bent around it, trees groaning under divine pressure.
"Damian, stop!" Eli shouted. "You'll rip the veil apart!"
"Good," Damian said, stepping forward. "Let it tear."
He plunged the blade into the rift — and the world screamed.
---
Light exploded across the horizon.
Aria stumbled forward through the Gate, her body wreathed in fire, her eyes glowing white.
Damian fell to his knees as she appeared before him, half-shadow, half-divinity, her presence so intense it shattered the grass around them into ash.
For a heartbeat, they only stared — two souls who had lost everything, now facing what remained.
"Aria…"
Her voice broke as she whispered, "You called."
He rose slowly, reaching for her as though afraid she'd vanish again. "I'd burn heaven for you."
"You already did."
Their hands met — and the new bond ignited. Not divine. Not destined. But chosen.
The moon flared, the veil screamed, and for one impossible instant, the gods themselves turned their gaze away.
---