The night did not end when the torches burned out.
Long after the ceremony, the ground still felt alive under Elena's feet—like a sleeping creature breathing beneath the vineyard. The pack had scattered to their homes, some muttering prayers, others throwing wary glances her way. Only Calen stayed near her as the last embers dimmed.
"Come inside," he said. "You need rest."
"I won't sleep," she whispered.
"Then sit. Pretend to."
She followed him into the Alpha's house. The halls were dim, lit by oil lamps. The air smelled faintly of wine, smoke, and blood. Her blood. It still stained his lips faintly, and when she saw it, something inside her tightened in ways she couldn't name.
Calen closed the door behind them. For a long moment neither spoke. The silence wasn't empty—it hummed with everything unsaid.
Finally, he said, "They'll turn if I can't control what's happening out there."
She looked toward the window. Beyond the glass, the vines along the hill glowed faintly red, as if mirroring the mark on her wrist. "You think you can control it?"
He met her eyes. "I'll try."
She almost smiled. "You always try."
Then the floor shuddered. Both turned sharply toward the sound—a deep, distant rumble, followed by a low, guttural howl that seemed to crawl up through the earth.
Calen drew his blade instinctively. "Stay behind me."
The howl came again, closer this time, vibrating through the wooden beams. Elena's pulse matched its rhythm. Her skin prickled with heat; her mark burned. "It's coming from the vines," she said quietly. "Under them."
"Then we're going down."
"Calen—"
He was already moving, grabbing a lantern. "You said you wanted to understand this bond. Now's the time."
They crossed the courtyard at a run, wind whipping through the empty rows of grapevines. The moon had dipped low, bleeding pale light across the hills. At the far edge of the field, the soil had cracked open, the same spot where the vines had flared during the ceremony.
Calen stopped short, lowering the lantern. The crack was wide enough for a wolf to crawl through. Steam rose from within, smelling of wet earth and something metallic—like old blood.
Elena crouched beside it, her mark glowing brighter. "It's alive."
"Not for long," Calen muttered, stepping closer.
Before she could stop him, a shape lunged out—a blur of black fur and claws. Calen moved fast, catching it midair and slamming it into the ground. The thing snarled, twisting—half wolf, half rot, its eyes burning crimson.
"Elena—back!" he shouted.
But she didn't retreat. The mark on her wrist pulsed, and the creature froze mid-lunge, its claws inches from Calen's throat. It trembled violently, its eyes flickering from red to gold, then collapsed into dust.
Calen stared. "You did that."
Elena's breathing was ragged. "No. The bond did."
More howls rose from below. She felt each one like a pulse in her bones. Calen grabbed her arm. "We can't fight them all here."
"Then we take it to the heart," she said.
His gaze sharpened. "The forest again."
She nodded. "Whatever woke last night, it's spreading through the roots. We cut it off there, or it reaches the pack."
He hesitated only a moment. Then: "Fine. But you stay in my sight."
They entered the forest just as the first hint of dawn touched the horizon. Mist coiled low over the ground. The vines here were thicker, their glow brighter. The air was heavy with magic—her magic, she realized.
Calen moved silently beside her, every muscle taut. His scent—pine, smoke, and blood—anchored her in the chaos.
As they walked, she whispered, "What if Roen was right?"
He didn't look at her. "About what?"
"About me. About the curse choosing me."
He stopped and turned to face her. "The curse doesn't choose. It consumes. You're still standing, Elena. That's the difference."
Something in his voice broke through the fear pressing at her ribs. She nodded once.
They continued deeper until the path narrowed into a tunnel of vines. The air shimmered faintly, bending light.
"This wasn't here before," Calen murmured.
Elena reached out. "It's a ward. It's hiding something."
When her fingers brushed the barrier, it dissolved with a hiss. Beyond it lay a cavern—roots curling down from the ceiling like ribs, forming a vast hollow space. At its center pulsed a pool of black water, faintly luminous.
Calen raised the lantern. "The heart."
Elena stepped closer. The water rippled even though there was no wind. Reflections danced across its surface—not hers, not his. Faces, hundreds of them, all with her eyes.
"They're anchors," she whispered. "All the women who came before me. All who bore the mark."
Calen frowned. "If that's true, where are they now?"
The answer came before she could speak. The water shifted—and from it, a shape began to rise.
It was wolf-shaped, but wrong. Its body was made of vines and shadow, its teeth glinting like shards of glass. When it opened its mouth, the sound that came out wasn't a growl—it was a scream.
Calen pushed Elena behind him. "Run!"
But she couldn't move. The mark on her wrist was burning white-hot. The creature lunged—then stopped midair, suspended. The vines binding its form stretched toward her, trembling, as if seeking command.
Calen turned to her. "Elena, whatever it's doing—fight it!"
"I'm trying—"
Her knees hit the ground. The creature's body shuddered, its form flickering between solid and smoke. For a heartbeat, she saw through its eyes—darkness, hunger, centuries of silence. And deep within that, a single, familiar voice:
Anchor… free us.
She gasped and pulled back. "They're trapped. All of them. Inside this thing."
Calen's jaw tightened. "Then we end it."
He charged forward, sword flashing. The blade struck the creature's chest, splitting the vines apart—but instead of bleeding, it shrieked, and light exploded outward. Calen was thrown backward, crashing hard into the roots.
"Calen!"
He groaned, trying to rise, but the creature turned toward him again. Without thinking, Elena stepped between them. Her pulse pounded, and the mark on her wrist split open like a flower, light pouring from it.
The creature froze. For a second, everything went silent.
Then, slowly, it lowered its head.
"Elena," Calen whispered, half in awe, half in warning.
She reached out, her voice shaking. "You don't have to fight."
The creature's eyes dimmed, the vines trembling. But as she touched it, another pulse rippled through the cavern—darker, colder. From the pool, a second shape rose.
This one wasn't wolfish. It was human-shaped, tall, and cloaked in shadow. Its voice was like wind through dead leaves.
"You woke us," it said.
Elena's breath caught. "Who are you?"
The shadow tilted its head. "The first Alpha. The one bound beneath the vines. You carry my Anchor's mark."
Calen staggered to his feet. "You're the one who cursed us."
The shadow's gaze turned toward him. "I was betrayed by my bond. She sealed me here—and you wear my bloodline like a crown."
Elena's chest tightened. "You mean the curse began with—"
"With love," the shadow said softly. "And it will end the same way."
The vines around them began to move, writhing toward Calen. He slashed at them, but they reformed instantly.
Elena stood frozen. "What do you want from me?"
"To finish what she began," the shadow said. "To anchor me again… or to release me."
"Release you?"
"If you break the bond, I wake fully. If you seal it forever, I sleep."
Calen's voice cut through the air. "Don't listen to him."
The shadow smiled faintly. "He fears you'll choose wrong. But tell me, little Anchor—how long before he turns, as all Alphas do? How long before your bond becomes your prison?"
Elena felt the words sink deep. The bond thrummed in her chest, alive and pulsing. She turned toward Calen—his eyes fierce, his breathing ragged, his sword still ready.
"I won't hurt you," he said.
"I know," she whispered. "But if this curse began with love—maybe it ends there too."
Before he could speak, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the creature's chest. Light burst from her palm, running through the vines, through the roots, and through the very soil.
The scream that followed wasn't pain—it was release. The creature dissolved into motes of silver dust that spiraled upward like fireflies, vanishing into the air.
The cavern trembled violently. Calen caught her as she fell. "What did you do?"
"I freed them," she said weakly. "But it's not over. The Alpha spirit—it's still here."
He looked around. The shadow had vanished, but its voice lingered.
"You cannot end what was bound in blood. You can only choose the side you bleed for."
Then silence.
Elena sagged against him, exhausted. He held her close, his hand pressed to her back. "You're burning up."
She managed a faint smile. "So are you."
He exhaled a laugh that sounded almost like a sob. "We should go before the forest decides to bury us."
She nodded, and together they stumbled toward the tunnel entrance, the vines parting silently before them.
Outside, dawn had fully broken. The vineyard stretched below them, glowing faintly gold instead of red. For the first time in weeks, the air smelled clean.
Calen lowered her to the ground gently. "It's over?"
Elena looked at the horizon. "No. It's waking. Just slower now."
He followed her gaze, then took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "Then we wake with it."
But deep beneath the earth, where the pool had been, a single drop of dark liquid pulsed once—like a heartbeat waiting to start again.
The "heart" has been pacified, but not destroyed. The spirit of the first Alpha remains, whispering to Elena through the bond—hinting that true release will demand sacrifice.