The Shadow Realm stretched endlessly before Elara, a wasteland of crimson skies and whispering ruins. Every step echoed in the hollow silence, her magic pulsing faintly beneath her skin. The mark of the Blood Moon still burned on the ground behind her, seared into her memory like a wound that refused to heal.
She didn't look back. She couldn't. Kael's face, the last flicker of humanity before darkness consumed him, was already carved too deep into her heart. The stranger's words still rang in her ears.
"If you want to save him, you'll have to walk the same path your grandmother once did."
And so she walked.
Hours, or maybe days; time didn't flow naturally here. The air grew colder and heavier, and with each step, the shadows seemed to wake, watching her. Whispers followed, faint and childlike at first, then older and sadder, until they blended into a soft, mournful chant.
"Elara of the Blood Moon…"
Her breath hitched. The whispers weren't just voices. They were names. Names carved into broken stones half-buried in ash. She crouched, brushing away the dust to reveal ancient markings—runes of witches long dead.
The First Coven.
"This is where it began," she murmured. "The curse, the pact, everything."
A sudden wind cut through the stillness, and she turned quickly, only to see a figure forming from the swirling shadows. It wasn't the golden-eyed stranger this time. It was a woman, tall and regal, cloaked in silver fire. Her hair was white as bone, her eyes the same deep violet as Elara's own.
"Grandmother…"
The apparition smiled faintly, her voice a blend of warmth and warning. "You should not have come here, child."
"I had no choice," Elara said, stepping closer. "He's dying—the curse is taking him."
Her grandmother's gaze softened. "The curse always takes. That is its nature. You cannot save the Alpha without paying what I once paid."
Elara's heart raced. "Then tell me how. Tell me what you did."
The ghost's form flickered, her expression darkening. "I bound the darkness to love. That was my mistake—believing love could purify power. But when he betrayed me, when his hunger turned to slaughter, I sealed it away inside his bloodline. And in doing so, I doomed them all."
Elara shook her head. "You're saying Kael's curse exists because of you."
"Because of us," her grandmother whispered. "Because of the witches who thought they could wield the moon's magic without consequences."
A sharp pain cut through Elara's wrist; the crescent mark flared violently. The ghost's eyes widened. "It's already begun."
"What?" Elara gasped.
"The merging," her grandmother said. "Every time you use your magic to save him, the curse recognizes you. It's binding you to his soul—one cannot survive without the other now."
Elara's mind reeled. "Then I'll break it before it's too late."
Her grandmother's sorrow deepened. "You can't break it, Elara. You can only take it."
The ground trembled, distant thunder rumbling through the wasteland. In the red light of the moon, a colossal structure emerged from the mist ahead. A temple, half-buried, covered in vines and symbols of the old world.
"The Tomb of the First Witch," her grandmother said quietly. "Inside lies the Mirror of Moira—a relic that reveals one's true soul. If you want to save him, you must face what you truly are."
Elara stepped toward the temple, her voice steady despite the dread curling in her chest. "And if I'm not strong enough?"
"Then the darkness will take you too."
The vision began to fade, her grandmother's voice lingering like a whisper in the wind. "Be careful what you sacrifice, my child. Love is the oldest curse of all."
When the last echo vanished, Elara turned toward the temple's entrance. The great stone doors loomed ahead, carved with a crescent moon and an inscription in a language older than the earth itself. Her mark glowed in response, and with a low rumble, the doors began to open.
Inside, shadows slithered like living things. The air was thick with the scent of old magic—and something else.
Kael's scent.
Elara's breath caught. She stepped through the threshold, the doors closing behind her with a thunderous finality. The torches along the walls flared to life on their own, revealing murals—scenes of witches binding beasts beneath a blood-red sky.
At the far end of the chamber stood the Mirror of Moira, tall and rippling like liquid glass. But as Elara approached, the reflection that stared back wasn't hers.
It was Kael's, eyes burning crimson, voice echoing through the chamber like a growl from the depths.
"Elara…"
Her pulse quickened. "Kael, can you hear me?"
His reflection moved when hers didn't, his expression dark and pained. "You shouldn't have come here."
She took another step forward. "I told you—I'm not leaving you."
The mirror began to crack, red light bleeding through its surface. Kael's reflection twisted, his voice now layered—human and monster both.
"Then you'll fall with me."
The glass shattered, and the darkness inside surged outward like a wave.
Elara screamed as it swallowed her whole.
And as the world went black, one thought burned in her mind like fire—if this was the price of saving him, she would pay it.
Every drop of it.