The sky above Lycanthra turned darker as a violet fog settled low over the cracked earth. Elara sat in Yara's small chamber, lit only by the glow of a flickering lantern and the soft scent of dried herbs. Before her, the old book lay open. Its pages resisted her touch—until her blood touched them.
A small cut on her finger, accidental, brushed against the page's edge, and instantly the faded ink ignited like embers.
The words came alive.
Her eyes widened as ancient runes rearranged themselves into legible lines. Then—everything shifted.
…She saw a woman—dark brown hair, fierce eyes full of sorrow—running through the rain, clutching a wrapped infant. In the distance, wolves howled.
"You must survive," the woman whispered. "This world will hunt your blood… but you will bring its end, or its rebirth."
The vision trembled. And suddenly, Elara was back in Yara's room, breath shaky.
"I… saw her," she said. "My mother."
Yara nodded gently. "The seal is weakening. That means your time is coming."
***
Elsewhere, Lucan stood in the grand council hall, surrounded by the clan elders. Silverhide. Blackfang. Hollowtooth. All gathered with one demand: Elara.
"If she's human, she must be cast out of Lycanthra," said the Silverhide leader coldly. "Or you lose our allegiance."
Lucan stared at them all in silence. He should've felt anger. But instead, he felt something deeper—weariness. This world had always run on fear and blood.
"I'll make sure she poses no threat," he said at last.
"And if she does?" challenged Blackfang.
Lucan didn't answer. But as he stepped out of the chamber, the wind carried a scent he now knew all too well: roses and rain—Elara.
I sat alone on the edge of the small window in Yara's cottage. The night air bit cold against my skin, like the sky of Lycanthra was trying to whisper a warning. My mother's book still rested in my lap, pages trembling faintly even though the air was still.
I wasn't ready to open it again. But curiosity rarely allowed me rest.
I took a slow breath and turned the next page. There, in faded ink, a poem appeared—its words glowing dimly as if stirred by memory.
"Blood born between two worlds,
Shall open gates sealed by time.
If love is wrapped in sorrow,
Then fate shall find its key."
I didn't understand it all, but something in my chest twisted, as if something old inside me was waking up. I closed my eyes, and my mother's voice returned—not in a vision, but like a whisper close to my ear.
"Don't be afraid of who you are. Even if the world hates your blood… rise."
My hands trembled. Was this magic? Or a bond that runs deeper—between a mother and her child?
"She's calling you," Yara's voice broke the silence. She stood in the doorway, holding a small cup of warm, violet-colored tea.
"Who?" I asked quickly.
"Your blood. And this world. You can't hide much longer."
I looked at her, silently pleading for answers she wouldn't give. Only silence answered me—and in that silence, I knew: the path back home might already be closed.
***
I wandered down the stone corridors of the castle that night, seeking air—or maybe escape. I didn't know why, but something pulled at my feet. Something in the dark called to me.
My steps led me toward the central hall. The place Yara had warned me to avoid. Too many eyes. Too many teeth.
And then, as I turned a dim corner, I nearly collided with someone.
Someone tall. Broad-shouldered. Even in the gloom, I saw the glint in his eyes—sharp, controlled, dangerous.
Him.
The King.
Lucan Duskbane.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I wanted to say something, anything, but my tongue froze. There was an aura around him—not icy, but stormy. Contained chaos.
"You," he said at last. His voice was low, thick—like a growl held in check.
I only nodded.
"Why are you wandering alone on a night like this?" he asked. Though it wasn't really a question. More a warning.
I straightened. "I don't know where I'm allowed to go. This world… makes no sense."
He stepped closer. "This world wasn't built to make sense. It was built to survive."
I didn't understand what he meant. But there was a flicker in his gaze—something that didn't match the fierce king everyone feared. A shadow of pain, perhaps.
"I saw my mother," I said softly.
His expression shifted. Maybe only for a moment, but I saw it—shock. Fear. And something deeper.
"In the book?" he asked.
I nodded. "She left me. But now I understand. She didn't abandon me to run. She did it to protect me."
We stood there in silence. Only the sound of my own heartbeat filled my ears.
"You know," he finally said, "your fate might destroy everything."
I looked up at him. "Or maybe… it might save something."
The world paused. He stared at me, and I stared back. And though we came from opposite sides of everything, something in that moment cracked open between us.
Something more than magic.