Chapter Seventeen

The Ironclaw lands stretched before us, a stark contrast to the lush forests of Moonshadow. The ground was cracked, dry, the trees sparse and twisted, their leaves brittle under the pale midday sun. The air carried a faint bitterness, like ash and decay, and my chest tightened as we crossed the border, the pack fanned out behind me, Rex at my side. My hand rested on my stomach, the flutter of my child a steady anchor, its rhythm stronger now, as if it felt the weight of this place. I was Lycan, a mother, a healer, and I’d come to break a curse I barely understood, but the desolation around me made my heart heavy.

‎

‎Rex’s red eyes scanned the barren landscape, his jaw tight, his hand brushing mine as we walked. The bond pulsed, warm and sure, grounding me despite the unease curling in my gut. He hadn’t spoken much since the rogue ambush, but his presence was enough, a silent vow to stand with me, no matter what we faced. The pack moved quietly, their steps cautious, their eyes wary, but their trust in me was a weight I carried proudly, even if it scared me.

‎

‎The Ironclaw scout led us, his figure lean and weathered, his eyes darting to me with something like hope. “It’s not far,” he said, his voice rough, gesturing toward a cluster of low stone buildings nestled against a rocky hill. “Our alpha waits for you.”

‎

‎I nodded, my throat tight, the warmth in my chest stirring, my wolf alert but calm. Sage Elara’s words echoed: *You’re a healer.* The rogue wolves had faltered under my power, their madness fading, and I’d felt it—the Lycan blood, not just strength but life, mending what was broken. But this land, this curse, felt bigger, heavier, like it could swallow me whole.

‎

‎We reached the village, its streets empty, the buildings worn and crumbling. A few Ironclaw wolves watched from doorways, their faces gaunt, their eyes dull, like the life had been drained from them. A child peeked out, her hair thin, her skin pale, and my heart twisted. This was what the scout meant—the curse, killing their land, their people. My hand pressed harder against my stomach, the flutter a reminder of why I was here.

‎

‎The alpha waited in the center of the village, a tall woman with grey-streaked hair and eyes like storm clouds. She stood straight, but her shoulders sagged, like the weight of her pack was too much. “You’re the Lycan,” she said, her voice low, steady, but laced with desperation. “The cursed wolf. I’m Mara, Alpha of Ironclaw.”

‎

‎I met her gaze, my voice steady despite the fear in my chest. “I’m Talia,” I said. “I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll try.”

‎

‎She nodded, her eyes softening, and gestured to a stone circle at the village’s heart, its center marked with faded runes. “The curse began here,” she said, her voice heavy. “Centuries ago, when our ancestors betrayed the Lycan bloodline. The land withered, our wolves weakened. The stories say only a Lycan can break it.”

‎

‎Rex stepped closer, his hand brushing my back, his red eyes sharp on Mara. “What does she need to do?” he asked, his voice low, protective. “And what’s the cost?”

‎

‎Mara’s eyes flicked to him, then back to me. “Her blood,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “A drop, freely given, in the circle. It will call the old magic, heal the land. But it’s not without risk. The curse fights back.”

‎

‎My heart raced, the warmth in my chest flaring, hot and restless. My blood. The same power that had stopped the rogues, that had saved Moonshadow. I looked at Rex, his face tense, his eyes searching mine, and I saw it—fear, not for himself, but for me, for the child I carried.

‎

‎“I’ll do it,” I said, my voice steady, cutting through the silence. “For them.” I glanced at the child in the doorway, her eyes wide, hopeful, and my resolve hardened. This was bigger than me, than the prophecy, than my fear.

‎

‎Rex’s hand tightened on mine, his jaw clenching. “Not alone,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m with you.”

‎

‎I nodded, my throat tight, and stepped into the circle, the runes cold under my bare feet. The pack formed a ring around us, Moonshadow and Ironclaw together, their eyes heavy with hope and doubt. Mara handed me a small dagger, its blade etched with wolves, its handle worn smooth. “One drop,” she said, her voice soft. “That’s all it takes.”

‎

‎I took the dagger, my hand steady despite the tremor in my chest. The warmth flared, my wolf stirring, ready, as I pressed the blade to my palm. A sharp sting, a bead of blood, bright red against my skin. I knelt, letting it fall into the circle, and the air shifted, heavy, like a storm gathering.

‎

‎The ground trembled, the runes glowing faintly, a low hum rising, like a heartbeat from the earth. My chest burned, the warmth surging, not just my wolf but something ancient, tied to the Lycan blood. I gasped, my vision blurring, as images flashed—wolves running, lands green and alive, a woman with my face, her eyes fierce, her blood spilling into this same circle. My ancestor, betrayed, her power stolen.

‎

‎A wind roared, cold and sharp, and I stumbled, Rex’s arms catching me, his grip strong. “Talia,” he said, his voice urgent, his red eyes wide. “Stay with me.”

‎

‎I nodded, my breath ragged, the warmth steadying, anchoring me. The runes glowed brighter, the ground shaking harder, and a light burst from the circle, soft but blinding, spreading outward. The air cleared, the bitterness fading, replaced by the scent of rain and new growth. The Ironclaw wolves gasped, their eyes brightening, their faces lifting, like they could feel it—the curse breaking, the land waking.

‎

‎Mara fell to her knees, tears streaking her face. “It’s done,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’ve saved us.”

‎

‎The child from the doorway ran forward, her thin arms wrapping around my legs, her smile wide. “Thank you,” she said, her voice small but clear, and my heart swelled, tears stinging my eyes. I knelt, hugging her back, the flutter in my stomach strong, like my child felt it too.

‎

‎Rex’s hand found mine, his eyes soft, proud, full of love. “You did it,” he said, his voice rough, warm. “You’re more than I ever imagined.”

‎

‎I looked at him, the bond pulsing, not just blood, not just duty, but love—real, fierce, mine. “We did it,” I said, my voice steady, my hand tightening in his. “Together.”

‎

‎The pack cheered, Moonshadow and Ironclaw together, their voices rising in a howl that shook the sky. The land around us seemed to breathe, the trees greener, the air lighter. I stood, Rex beside me, the child still clinging to me, and I felt it—the future, not just mine, but ours. My child, my pack, my mate. I was Talia, Lycan, mother, healer, and I’d found my place, not in a prophecy, but in the life I’d chosen, the love I’d claimed.