Mikhael halted in front of the old mural hidden beneath a layer of black tar.The white-fire creature behind him fell silent.
With a subtle gesture, the tar slid away—as if it had never been there.
What it revealed was not art…It was a warning.
Two ancient figures, carved into the stone with bleeding marks:
—One, a man cloaked in wolves, eyes like a shattered moon.—The other, veiled in shadows, with a white rose between his teeth and a scar cleaving his chest in two.
Above them, an inscription in forgotten runes:
"The first kept the soul.The second broke the reflection.They bled the name that still trembles beneath the earth.When the echo returns, the cycle will open."
Mikhael touched the stone with his fingertips, and for a brief second, he thought he heard their names.
—Sanathiel... Rasen.
He didn't know them.But something ancient stirred within him, as if an old oath was waiting to be fulfilled.
His eyes lit up with strange excitement.He resealed the mural swiftly, right over the central symbol: a triskel—the mark of the ancient Nevri.
—"The beginning of the end," he whispered.
Immediately, he turned and ran through the halls, pushing past sealed doors until he reached the main balcony.He leapt without hesitation, and as he fell, his voice thundered:
—"Unleash the beasts!"
From the depths, an elite unit responded.Chained beings emerged—first-level beasts, subhuman, with hollow eyes and ravenous fangs.They were controlled with current-bound leashes and electric seals.But even their keepers didn't know what they were about to face.
Meanwhile, miles away, a human—the same girl who had touched Mikhael hours ago—stared in horror at her wrist.A burning mark had formed on her skin: a moon split by three rays.
Mikhael felt it, even from afar.He froze.
—"It can't be..." he murmured. "The symbol of the Sleeping Heiress."
The one who, according to prophecy, would break the cycle between vampires and werewolves.
An ancient memory rose in his mind:The face of Arisha's mother... or perhaps her grandmother.
Mikhael had once witnessed the Oath of the Nine Clans.He had faked weakness, allowed himself to be bound to the chair—just to survive.But he had seen it all.
And now, the oath trembled.
The girl was taken beneath the city, to an altar buried in roots and bones.Mikhael, his eyes cloaked in shadow, forced her to seal a blood bond.It was not protection.It was control.
She trembled, but he didn't hesitate.
—"With this offering," he said, slicing his fingers open, "I bind you to me. Your body, your voice, your will."
His blood fell onto the marked circle at their feet.The symbol ignited.
—"Nothing escapes this bond. Not death, nor name, nor rebellion. You are mine."His voice grew deeper, more hollow.—"I swear it by the fire of the Nine Clans."
For a moment, the air stopped.The roots whispered in forgotten tongues.The mark on her wrist glowed.The world tilted toward obedience...
...but something didn't fit.
Mikhael felt a dry punch to his chest.As if something—or someone—rejected him.
—"What...?" he muttered, sweat beading on his brow.
The seal's flames turned black.The blood hissed and cracked, and the mark of the split moon burned uncontrollably.
—"No... It can't fail. Not now!" he roared, stepping toward her, desperation seizing his throat.—"This bond is law!"
And then, the girl raised her face.
Her eyes were blank.An ancient shadow spoke through her lips.
—"I am not your anchor… I am your judgment."
The voice boomed like thunder in a forbidden cavern.
At that same moment, far away, Rasen—the Guardian of the Limit—felt the oath's rupture.His chest tightened.The Broken Moon's frontier barred his passage... but it no longer mattered.
—"If I cross, there will be war...—But if I don't, she dies."
He stepped forward. Then again.
The law was broken.
Back in the tower, Mikhael began bleeding from the nose.He looked at the glowing mark on her wrist—bright as a curse.
And with a broken voice, he whispered:
—"You weren't the bait… you were the storm."
High atop a crumbling tower, a hooded figure watched the chaos unfold.Sky-blue eyes burned with restrained fury.The tattoo on their shoulder—a triskel—flared with bluish light.
—"This will be a small punishment..." the figure murmured.
They raised a weapon bathed in sacred energy... and fired.
The arrow pierced the defense barrier shielding the tower.
In the air, a single word echoed:
—Mikhael.
Meanwhile, in a forgotten corner of the world...inside the old castle, Arisha stepped through the mirror.Her body passed through the glass as if reality itself had unraveled for her.
The place she entered was pure white.
It was snowing.
The cold was so bitter her hands turned blue, and her shoes sank into the snow like each step weighed more than the last.
As she walked, her legs went numb.Her breath vanished into the air—until she collapsed.
—"Arisha…"
A voice whispered her name—distant and close at once.It wasn't human.It was… the echo of the dead.
Before her stood a black-leaved tree in the midst of the white desert.Its branches swayed without wind, as if whispering forbidden secrets.
And he was there.
A being visible through the snow, face cloaked in living shadow, surrounded by dark energy pulsing like a black heart.His crimson eyes, deep and wide, threatened her without words.Each step he took was a declaration of absolute power.
Arisha couldn't move.
She didn't know if it was fear, cold, or simply fate.
What approached wasn't an enemy.
It was a living truth.
And she wasn't ready to know it.
Vision:
The being stopped a few steps from Arisha.The dark energy around him slowly faded, revealing something beyond terror: a white silhouette.
A tattered cloak.Golden hair floating like frozen fire.And eyes... hazel, heavy with sorrow and strength.
—"Arisha…"
The voice was deep—an echo carved into stone and wind.But it wasn't there to warn her.It was there to claim her.
Then she saw him clearly.
—"Sanathiel..." she whispered, a knot rising in her throat.
And he smiled…just before turning to ash.
Not the monster cursed in books.Not the demon.
But the man.The white wolf.The one who fought to protect what he loved—until the very end.
—"Why are you here… if you're dead?" Arisha whispered.
The wind fell silent.The black tree behind him shed a single leaf—like a tear of time.
—"Because I'm not dead within you. Because you are my legacy…The last light of the Nevri.The heir of the resistance.My daughter… by right.By blood."
And after his words, his body dissolved into ash under the moon.But his mark…remained etched into Arisha's chest, burning like a new heart.
"The past is not dead… it lives in my blood."