Bloodties and lies

Isabella’s POV

The scroll felt heavier than parchment had any right to be.

I stood frozen in the moonlight, the edges of it curling slightly in my palm. The crimson stained wax seal pulsed faintly with warmth, as though something inside the scroll was alive. I didn’t dare open it, I couldn’t. At least not yet. Not with Rowan still struggling to stay upright beside me and the Slade brothers watching like the world might end in the next breath.

Rowan collapsed fully then, his body sagging against the altar as though the shrine had drained what little strength he had left.

Trenton stepped forward instinctively, but stopped short when he caught himself. His jaw clenched, his eyes sharp on Rowan, as though he wasn’t sure if saving him was still the right thing to do.

Darcy crouched beside Rowan instead, checking his pulse, his voice low.

 “He’s stabilizing. Whatever this place is… it’s helping him.”

I breathed out slowly, the scroll still pressed to my chest. The whispers had gone, but their echo lingered in my bones.

Then, slowly read it out loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“The bond will either save you or be your doom.” I stood there, frozen. What does that mean?

How could I be part of something so large without evening knowing what it is?

We left the shrine just before dawn.

By the time we reached the edge of the woods, pale light was spilling through the treetops, turning the leaves silver. I stayed close to Rowan, supporting him when he stumbled, but my mind was far from the forest. It was caught somewhere between the way Trenton kept glancing at me like I was a riddle he couldn’t solve… and the growing tightness in my chest whenever I looked at him.

I hated this feeling, I hated it so much.

He looked at me like all these were my fault. But I didn’t ask for any of it. 

I didn’t ask for  the prophecy, nor the bond with the Slade brothers. Not the weight of fate resting on my shoulders like I was built to carry it. But I couldn’t ignore it anymore either.

Some part of me wanted to carry it.

I glanced over at Trenton again, just as he turned away from me. His shoulders were stiff, his face unreadable. That wall was back between us, the one he kept rebuilding no matter how many times I tried to tear it down.

Darcy stayed closer, quiet but present. I caught him watching me a few times, his face softer, less guarded. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to.

I knew where he stood, he was on my side.

Or at least he acted as though he was. 

When we reached the cabin, Rowan collapsed onto the couch without a word. He was breathing easier now, the gray tint fading from his skin. I wrapped the scroll in a cloth and tucked it safely into my bag before stepping onto the porch, needing air. 

Behind me, the door creaked open.

I turned to see Trenton standing there, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Here it comes,” I thought, muttering under my breath.

Then, I nodded. “Alright.”

He stepped out, closing the door behind him. For a second, neither of us spoke. Then he said, “You should’ve told us about the prophecy earlier.”

“I didn’t know it,” I said quickly. “Rowan barely understood it himself until—”

“But you trusted him with it.” His voice was low, tight. “Not us.”

I flinched. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No?” He laughed bitterly. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

His words landed hard, sharper than I expected. And the worst part? He wasn’t entirely wrong.

I had trusted Rowan, maybe too much. Maybe because I wanted to believe there was someone else who understood what it meant to be swept up in something bigger than themselves. Maybe because it was easier than facing what I was becoming.

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Trenton?” I asked quietly. “You think this is easy for me? Being tied to you, and Darcy, and Oliver—and still feeling like I’m standing outside your circle?”

“You’re not—” he began, then stopped, jaw clenching.

“But I am,” I said. “And maybe that’s what scares you. Maybe you’re afraid that I won’t fit, or that if you let me in, you’ll lose control.”

Trenton’s eyes darkened. “You don’t know what I’m afraid of.”

“Then tell me,” I snapped, before catching myself.

He just kept silent, like he was hiding something big. 

“I want to trust you,” he finally said. “But every time I start to… something like this happens. And suddenly I don’t know where you stand.”

“I stand with you,” I whispered.

His gaze flickered and for a second, the wall cracked.

But then he turned away, walking back inside without another word and then the door shut behind him.

I sank down on the steps, letting my head fall into my hands. The morning sun warmed my skin, but it didn’t touch the chill inside me.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

“Hey,” Darcy said gently, stepping out. He handed me a mug of tea.

“Thanks.” I took it with both hands, grateful for something solid to hold.

He sat beside me, letting the silence settle.

“You alright?” he asked.

“No,” I said honestly. “I don’t think I am.”

Darcy nodded slowly. “Trenton’s… complicated. You probably figured that out already.”

“I just wish he’d see that I’m trying.”

“He does,” Darcy said. “He just doesn’t know what to do with it.”

I looked at him, really looked at him. And something in his eyes—soft, steady—made my chest ache.

“You’ve been the only one who hasn’t made me feel like a stranger,” I said.

He smiled faintly, “That’s because you’re not. Whether you believe it or not, you belong here.”

I swallowed hard, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

He reached over, squeezing my hand. And just like that, the ache eased a little.

Inside, Rowan stirred. Trenton was already checking on him. I followed slowly, still holding my tea.

When I stepped inside, I felt it.

Something had changed.

The scroll, still wrapped in the cloth; was glowing faintly, a low hum vibrating through the air. I set down the mug and approached it carefully, unwrapping it.

The wax seal was gone.

No, not gone, melted, as though it had dissolved from the inside.

Darcy moved to stand beside me as I slowly unrolled it.

Ancient symbols bled across the parchment, but they weren’t still. They shifted and shimmered like reflections in water.

“What the hell is that?” Trenton muttered from behind us.

The symbols suddenly flared, and the markings leapt—yes, leapt—from the scroll to the walls around us, as if alive. They etched themselves into the wood and stone, glowing with a strange silver light.

Rowan gasped, it was obvious that he wasn’t expecting it to happen.

The markings converged into a single symbol above the fireplace, pulsing like a heartbeat.

A deep rumble echoed through the room, the scroll’s writing changed again, now more readable. A line in bold red ink stood out against the silver.

‘The heir of the wolf and something more, born of shadowed blood and ancient war.’

My heart skipped, what does that mean? 

Darcy read it aloud, voice quiet. “That sounds like—”

Trenton backed away slowly, his eyes locked on the markings, his face pale.

“What is it?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, he just stood there, breathing hard.

The scroll flared again, and the final line wrote itself before our eyes:

‘One brother’s blood is not what it seems.’

The air shifted, my breathing became fast. Too easy for the ordinary wolf.

Darcy turned toward Trenton, startled. “T…?”

But Trenton was already moving.

He spun on his heel and stormed out the back door, disappearing into the trees beyond.

I dropped the scroll and ran after him, the forest swallowed him up within seconds.

Branches snapped underfoot as I chased him through the brush. I called his name once—but he didn’t stop.

He was fast, so fast that I couldn’t catch up with him. He wasn't just running.

He was changing.

Ahead of me, something broke through the undergrowth.

I turned quickly, it wasn’t a man.

Not even a wolf.

It was something  in between.

Something ancient, it was coming towards me and it wasn’t slowing down.