The morning came too quickly.
Elena barely felt it; she'd slept only in fragments—her mind caught between flashes of light and whispers of vines calling her name. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Calen standing by the window of the small stone chamber, shirtless, steam rising from his skin where he'd just washed. His back was covered in scars that caught the sunlight like pale threads. He hadn't noticed she was awake yet.
She sat up slowly. "You didn't sleep."
He turned his head slightly. "Couldn't."
"Because of me?"
"Because of them." His voice was quiet, but something sharp hid underneath. "The council called a meeting. Word's already spread about what happened in the forest. They're saying the curse has chosen its vessel."
Her stomach tightened. "Me."
He nodded once. "They'll want to see you."
Elena pushed the blanket aside, cold air brushing her bare arms. Her legs still trembled from the energy she'd used the night before, but she forced herself to stand. "Then we go."
Calen turned fully to face her. "It's not that simple. They're frightened, Elena. The vines receded from the vineyard overnight. Half the fields are glowing with runes. They think it's a sign you've bonded with the curse itself."
"And what do you think?"
He looked at her for a long time. "I think they're half right."
That hurt more than she expected, though his tone wasn't cruel—just tired.
"I can't deny what I saw," he continued, stepping closer. "When you touched the vines, they responded. When you called on your power, the creatures obeyed. But that doesn't make you dangerous to us." His hand lifted as if to touch her face, then stopped inches away. "It makes you necessary."
Before she could respond, a sharp knock came from the door. A voice on the other side—Marcus, Calen's second—spoke. "The council's waiting."
Calen's jaw tightened. "Tell them we're coming."
When Marcus's footsteps faded, Calen exhaled hard. "They'll try to intimidate you. Don't let them."
She met his eyes. "You think I'm scared of old wolves in robes?"
A small smile tugged at his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You should be."
The council hall was carved from black oak, circular, with high windows that let the light fall in narrow beams. The elders sat in a ring, their expressions carved from stone. Murmurs rippled through the room when Elena entered beside Calen.
"She brought the curse back."
"She walked the forest unharmed."
"Wolfless witch."
Elena kept her chin up. Calen's hand brushed hers once—brief, grounding—before he stepped forward.
"You called this meeting," he said. "Then speak."
Elder Roen, the oldest among them, leaned forward, his eyes pale and sharp. "We speak because the ground beneath our vines glows with forbidden sigils, Alpha. We speak because the curse we've fought for decades now wears a woman's face." His gaze cut to Elena. "Tell us, girl—what are you?"
Elena met his stare without flinching. "Alive. That's what I am. And the curse didn't make me that way—you did. All of you, when you let it grow unchecked."
A few of the elders shifted uncomfortably, but Roen's expression didn't change. "The vines answered to you."
"They respond to my blood," she said. "Because the bond chose me. Because your Alpha's curse is tied to something older than any of you understand."
A murmur swept the circle. Calen's voice cut through it, sharp. "Enough."
Roen turned his attention back to him. "You defend her because you are bound to her. The bond clouds your judgment."
"Or maybe it clears it."
Roen rose slowly, leaning on his staff. "You risk everything for her. Our vineyards. Our people. You let her touch the heart of the curse, and you expect us to trust your word?"
Calen stepped forward until they stood nearly chest to chest. "You will trust my actions. She saved your people last night. You're alive because she was there."
"And what happens when her power turns on us?" Roen's voice rose. "When the vines no longer listen?"
Elena felt the tension coil like a wire. "Maybe you should worry less about me losing control," she said quietly, "and more about what happens if I don't."
The room fell into silence.
Roen's nostrils flared, but he said nothing. Calen took the opening. "We're done here. I'll handle the curse. The council will stand down."
The elder's eyes narrowed. "You forget who built this pack, boy."
Calen's tone was steel. "You forget who leads it."
He took Elena's arm and turned toward the doors. No one stopped them. Not until a voice rose from the shadows—Elder Mira, soft-spoken but always dangerous.
"Then you bind her," she said.
Calen froze. "What?"
"If she's truly your mate, and the bond is the key, then seal it. Make her part of you. Mark her under the moon before the pack. If her power turns, we'll have you to blame."
The hall buzzed with agreement.
Elena's breath caught. "You can't be serious."
But Mira only smiled faintly. "The old ways demand proof. Blood for loyalty. Mark for trust. You want their faith, Alpha—claim her."
Calen's jaw clenched. "That's not your choice."
"Then make it yours," Mira replied.
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Elena felt every eye in the room on her. Then Calen turned to her, his gaze searching, asking.
She met it steadily. "If this will make them listen, do it."
"Elena—"
"I'm not afraid."
He didn't answer, but his throat worked. Then he nodded once, curtly, like a man stepping off a ledge. "Tonight. Under the full moon."
By evening, the news had spread across the pack. The vineyard was lined with torches; the air thick with the scent of wine and earth. Wolves gathered in a wide circle as Calen and Elena stood at the center.
He reached for her hand. "You can still walk away."
"Can you?" she asked.
His lips curved faintly. "No."
The moon rose, spilling silver light across the vines. The murmurs died. Calen lifted his hand and brushed his thumb along the side of her neck. "This isn't for them," he said softly. "It's for us."
Her heart thundered. "Then make it real."
He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against her skin. His fangs grazed her neck—not piercing yet, just tasting the promise. The bond between them thrummed like a live wire, pulling at something deep and wild inside her.
When his teeth broke skin, heat flared through her—pain, pleasure, and power, all tangled together. The vines around the vineyard shuddered, glowing faintly red. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Calen pulled back, his lips stained with her blood. His eyes burned gold. "Mine," he said, voice rough.
Her knees almost gave out, not from weakness but from the flood of energy surging between them. The mark on her wrist pulsed, matching the bite on her neck.
The crowd cheered—some in awe, others in fear. Elder Roen looked grim, but Mira smiled thinly, satisfied.
Then the ground trembled.
At first, it was subtle—a vibration underfoot. Then cracks split the earth near the vines. A low, guttural sound rose from below, like something ancient stirring.
"Elena," Calen said, his tone sharp.
She grabbed his arm. "It's reacting to the bond."
"Too fast," he muttered. "It shouldn't—"
The vines exploded upward in a storm of red light. Screams echoed. Wolves shifted, growling, but the vines didn't attack—they swirled around Elena and Calen, enclosing them in a circle of living flame.
Elena felt her heartbeat sync with the rhythm of the vines. She saw flashes again—the woman from before, her same face, standing over an altar, marking a man who looked like Calen. The same bite. The same curse.
She gasped. "This has happened before."
Calen's voice was barely audible over the roar of magic. "What are you seeing?"
"A memory. A warning." She looked up at him, eyes wide. "We're repeating it."
Then, as suddenly as it started, the vines went still. The circle around them collapsed into ash. The crowd backed away, muttering prayers.
Calen steadied her, his hand firm at her back. "You're all right?"
She nodded faintly, though her skin burned where his mark glowed. "The bond woke something."
Roen's voice rose from behind them. "And you still say she's not the curse?"
Calen turned, eyes blazing. "She just saved your lives again."
"Or doomed them," Roen shot back.
The pack began to argue, voices rising. Some shouted for trust, others for banishment. The night was filled with chaos.
Elena looked down at her wrist—the crimson mark had spread slightly, branching out like vines beneath her skin.
She whispered, mostly to herself, "It's spreading."
Calen heard. His hand found hers. "Then we stop it—together."
She met his gaze, and for the first time since it began, she believed him.
But deep under the soil, something shifted—something vast and breathing. The vines pulsed once more, and in the distance, a low howl answered the moon.
The public claiming the ritual seals their bond, but awakens the curse buried beneath the vineyard. The pack begins to divide—half believing Elena is their salvation, half calling for her death.