The Shadowed Truth

Grimm's POV

Grimm sat on the mossy outcrop beneath the silver-threaded moon, tails curled neatly around his paws, ears twitching with every whisper of shadow in the trees.

He had delayed this long enough.

Behind him, he could hear Therrin's breathing. Steady, but tense. Beside her, Dion sat like a carved statue of dusk and gold, gaze flickering between Grimm and the dark sky above.

They were waiting.

They had every right to know.

"You both need to understand what's coming," Grimm said finally. "And what came before."

Therrin's voice was quiet. "Is this about the Shadow Mistress?"

"No," Grimm replied, "it's about you. All of this… starts with you."

He turned to face them fully now, golden eyes reflecting moonlight.

"Centuries ago, there lived two witches. Sisters. Selene, born of light. Veyra, born of shadow. They were bonded by blood, by childhood, and by something older than either understood. Their magic complemented each other. Balanced each other. Until they both fell in love with the same man."

Dion stiffened, but Therrin leaned closer, drawn in.

"He was not a witch, nor fey. He was a shifter," Grimm said. "Powerful, wild-hearted, and full of life. He enchanted them both—but in the end, he chose neither. He mated with a different witch. One that neither sister could accept."

"They turned on him?" Dion asked, voice low.

"No," Grimm said softly. "They turned on each other. Their love cracked into jealousy. Light warred with shadow. Sister against sister. The world felt it. Even the stars."

Therrin's hands curled into fists on her knees.

Grimm's tails twitched again. "In their grief and rage, they formed a blood pact. A curse."

He stepped closer, the air thickening with ancient power. "They vowed to destroy the man's legacy. Not by killing him—but by cursing his descendants. His line would birth only daughters. Daughters who would always feel half-whole, destined to yearn endlessly for a mate they'd never truly reach. A line cursed to fracture."

Therrin blinked slowly. "But that's… me."

Grimm nodded. "Yes. You. And Ari. You are their punishment made flesh. Their souls reborn—woven together in one body. Nyx allowed it, hoping to repair what was broken. That in unity, the cycle could be healed."

Dion's voice was quiet now. "And the man they loved?"

Grimm turned to him. "He was reborn too. As you, Dion."

Dion's breath caught.

"You were drawn to them because your soul has always been bound to theirs. You were never cursed—but your presence is the trigger. The reminder. The test." Grimm's eyes flashed. "Fate didn't plan for you to return. Not like this. You are a variable. An echo with power."

Therrin's face was pale. "And the Shadow Mistress?"

"She was Veyra's most loyal follower," Grimm said.

"She believed in domination. In destruction. When the sisters died—killed before they could birth heirs—Selene and Veyra's magic should have vanished. But the Mistress waited. She bled into the roots of shadow, whispering, watching. Hoping one day Veyra would return."

He looked at Therrin with something that wasn't quite pity. "And she has. You are both of them. But your soul—split and stitched—is new. She doesn't want to restore Veyra. She wants to claim you. Twist you. Separate you from Ari and finish the war."

Therrin's voice was tight. "She said I'd fall. That my mate couldn't save me."

Grimm nodded slowly. "Because it's not about being saved, Therrin. It's about choosing who you are. You were born with light and shadow for a reason—not to destroy one side, but to control them both. To command what no one else ever has."

Dion finally spoke. "What if she can't?"

"Then she becomes the weapon the Shadow Mistress has waited centuries to unleash," Grimm said. "But if she can—if you both can—then the Mistress loses. And the curse ends."

The silence that followed was brittle. Real.

Grimm stepped back into the shadows, his voice the last thing they heard before he vanished again.

"Destiny is not fixed. It's forged. And Therrin… yours is just beginning to burn."