8. Loyalties Are Written in Blood

The Dreadmaw ruins loomed like a carcass half-buried in the hills outside Ashwood—burned-out halls, cracked stone pillars overtaken by vines, and moonlight bleeding through holes in the collapsed ceiling. Once a stronghold of proud warriors, now it reeked of ash, rust, and broken promises. And yet... it breathed. Quietly. Like a beast in slumber.

Fenrak stood alone beneath what was once the council chamber. Moss crept along the walls like veins. Water dripped steadily in the silence. He hated this place. Hated the ghosts it fed him. But this was home now—if you could call a cage of ruin a home.

Boots crunched behind him. He didn’t turn. He already knew the sound.

Varek Draven.

The Dreadmaw Alpha strolled in like a king returning to his throne. Regal, slow, predatory. The firelight from a broken brazier danced across the jagged scar on his jaw.

“You still think Kael would’ve spared you?” Varek asked quietly, stopping a few feet away.

Fenrak didn’t answer.

Varek’s voice softened—calm, smooth, persuasive. “We both know what Kael is. A loyal heir to broken laws. An Alpha who exiled his best friend without looking back. For what? A murder you didn’t even commit?”

Fenrak’s jaw clenched, the memory clawing back—Kael’s eyes, cold with disappointment. The trial. The sentence. The betrayal.

Varek took another step closer, voice like silk dipped in venom. “But I never judged you. I gave you power. Purpose. And now… I offer more.”

He unfurled a scroll and tossed it on the broken stone table.

Ancient ink marked with a symbol Fenrak had seen before—in dreams. In nightmares. A crimson sun pierced by twin fangs.

“The prophecy,” Varek whispered. “It speaks of a Crimson-born. Of a bloodline marked by the gods. A girl who will open the gates sealed by her ancestors. And in doing so, will bring the balance the supernatural world craves.”

“Balance?” Fenrak muttered. “You mean chaos.”

Varek chuckled. “The only chaos here is the rule Kael and his kind uphold. Alpha hierarchies. Territories. Submission. You think that’s order?”

He leaned in.

“I think it’s stagnation. We unleash AURA, and everything changes. The weak bow. The strong rise. And Kael’s line?” He smiled coldly. “Wiped from the map.”

Fenrak looked down at the scroll, but he wasn’t seeing ink anymore. He was seeing her.

Rhea.

The way she’d looked at him after the fight. Confused. Angry. Scared. But curious.

Something about her pulled at him like a tide. Not love. Not yet. But something he couldn’t name—and Varek was asking him to hand her over like a tool.

“I just need your loyalty,” Varek said softly. “One final time.”

Unseen from behind the crumbling archway, Alder listened in silence. His hands curled into fists, breath held tight.

So this was Varek’s true game. Not revenge.

Control.

Alder backed away slowly, careful not to make a sound, then disappeared into the shadows, slipping past the patrolling wolves into the underground tunnels.

His fingers moved fast on the runic mirror.

“Grandmisteress Eloria,” he whispered.

The glass flared to life with violet light.

She answered almost instantly.

“Well?” she said. “I assume you didn’t contact me to waste my time.”

Alder kept his voice low. “He’s moving. Varek. He believes the Crimson girl is the key to unsealing AURA. He’s preparing to use her.”

There was a pause.

And then a slow, knowing laugh.

“Of course he is,” Eloria said. “He’s dumber than I hoped… but just smart enough to be dangerous.”

“What should I do?” Alder asked.

“You do nothing,” she said. “I will.”

She ended the spell.

—

Back at Kael’s estate, Violet’s mirror began to tremble. The light flickered. She reached for it, heart thudding as Eloria’s image crackled into view.

“You didn’t tell me,” Eloria said without greeting.

Violet paled. “Tell you what—?”

“That she’s Crimson. That she’s marked.”

“I—I was going to—”

“You were supposed to report everything.” Eloria’s voice dripped with venom. “Not play house with Kael. Not sympathize with a girl who could end us all.”

Violet lowered her gaze. “She’s not like that…”

“She’s exactly like that. And worse. The seal is already weakening. You feel it, don’t you?”

The call snapped off.

Violet stood there shaking, whether from fear or shame, she didn’t know.

Rhea

The car ride back to Kael’s estate was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Violet sat beside me in the backseat, arms crossed, watching the trees blur past. Kael didn’t speak. He never did much when he was behind the wheel—but somehow, his silence always felt louder than words.

But the car…

It wasn’t what I expected.

No squeaky off-roader, no forest-beaten Jeep. This was a Rolls-Royce Cullinan Black Badge, entirely blacked out. The paint shimmered like obsidian under the moonlight—matte and hungry. Even the emblem at the front, the Spirit of Ecstasy, gleamed in dark chrome, casting shadows over the hood like wings of a silent predator. The inside was all leather and silence. No music. No distractions. Just the low purr of power beneath our feet.

Of course, I thought.

Of course he drives this.

Kael Draven didn’t just move through the world. He owned every piece of it he touched.

When we arrived, the estate gates opened slowly, reverently, like they feared who was approaching. The Draven territory stretched out before us in a veil of fog and power. Thick woods surrounded the stone mansion like loyal guards. There were smaller cottages and outposts, all spread out in perfect symmetry, but the manor at the center was ancient—grand and imposing, with gothic architecture kissed by ivy and age.

"This place…" I whispered as we stepped out.

Kael glanced at me. “It was built before the town ever existed.”

Of course it was.

We entered through arched doors taller than two men. Inside, the warmth of firelight met the chill I didn’t know I still carried. Violet led me through a hallway of polished wood and hanging portraits. The walls were lined with old family crests and mounted weapons, as if the house itself remembered wars it had no right to.

A few people passed us—pack members, I assumed. Most nodded to Kael respectfully. Some eyed me with quiet suspicion. One of them, a tall guy with a scar running down his temple, paused beside Violet.

“She’s the Crimson girl?” he asked under his breath.

“She’s Rhea,” Violet replied coolly. “And she’s under Kael’s protection.”

That shut him up.

We reached a smaller chamber lit by amber lanterns and sat down on the velvet cushions near the hearth. Kael stood by the window, silent, thinking. His silhouette was carved by firelight—broad shoulders, a straight back, tension barely contained beneath skin.

“You should rest,” he said, his voice calm but distant.

I looked at him. “Rest? After what I saw?”

His jaw tightened. Violet placed a hand on my arm.

“I know you’re overwhelmed. But you’re safe here, Rhea. Nothing and no one can harm you within this house.”

I looked between them. “Safe? Violet, there was a wolf—no, two wolves. One of them was Kael. The other wanted me dead.”

Kael finally turned. “And that’s exactly why you’re here.”

I was about to press when a knock came at the door.

Kael opened it himself.

One of his pack members leaned in. “The scouts have returned. No new movement from the Dreadmaw side. But we caught a scent. Close to the southern ridge.”

Kael nodded. “Double the guard.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

When the door shut again, he turned back to us. “They’re getting bolder.”

“You mean Varek?” I asked.

His silence answered for him.

The air in the room thickened. Violet stood. “I should check on the perimeter. You two… talk.”

She left before I could stop her.

Alone, Kael and I just looked at each other.

“I don’t understand any of this,” I admitted.

“You will.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

I stood, restless. “You dragged me into this, Kael. Whether you meant to or not.”

“I saved you.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved.”

His expression hardened, but there was something else behind his eyes. Guilt?

Before I could speak again, a howl echoed from the distance.

Low. Haunting. Dreadmaw.

Kael looked toward the window, fists clenched.

“Whatever’s coming…” he murmured, “it’s already begun.”

And in that moment, as I stood in a house filled with strangers and shadows, I realized something terrifying:

This wasn’t the end of the nightmare.

It was the beginning.

"Somewhere between running from shadows and chasing ghosts… I became one."