The battlefield reeked of blood and smoke. Ash fell like snow. Shadows twisted through the trees, and wolves—loyal and rogue alike—clashed beneath a dying sky.
But the alpha saw only one thing.
Silas.
His brother stood across the clearing, calm in the chaos, robed in red and shadow. The Bloodstone hovered at his side like a second heart.
"You've gone too far, Silas," the alpha growled, his voice laced with primal fury.
Silas smirked. "I've barely begun. You gave the girl false hope. But I will give her power."
He raised a hand. The stone pulsed—and suddenly, wolves on their side twisted, turning on their own pack.
The alpha's chest burned. The mark on his shoulder flared with silver fire.
Aria.
He turned—just in time to see her collapse in the distance, power crackling wildly around her, out of control.
"No."
He ran. The world blurred. He tore through enemy lines like a storm, shifting mid-sprint, his wolf form massive and glowing with fury.
Silas tried to stop him, but the alpha's power exploded, knocking everything aside.
He reached her, shifting back as he dropped to his knees.
"Aria. Aria, look at me."
She was shaking, the magic leaking from her like her soul was tearing apart.
"I can't hold it…" she gasped. "The stone—he's using it—he's using me."
"No. No, listen to me." He cupped her face, voice breaking. "You are not his weapon. You are not a curse."
She blinked up at him, eyes glowing silver and gold.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered.
He kissed her. Hard. Desperate. A promise, a goodbye, a scream.
"I love you."
The mark on their bodies ignited.
Light erupted.
And the curse—broke.