Chapter 31

 Into the Depths

Dawn’s first light crept through the forest canopy as Aria, Caden, and Elara set out from the watchtower, Rollan nestled securely in Aria’s arms. The air was sharp with the scent of pine and damp earth, but an undercurrent of unease lingered. They moved swiftly and silently, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of fallen leaves. Caden led the way, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of Darius’s loyalists, while Elara followed close behind, her cloaked form blending into the gloom.

Aria’s mind churned with doubt. Elara’s knowledge was invaluable, but her past as a loyalist gnawed at Aria’s trust. Can we rely on her? She glanced at Caden, his jaw set in a hard line. He hadn’t spoken much since they left, his skepticism toward Elara palpable.

As if sensing her thoughts, Caden slowed his pace, falling in step beside her. “I don’t like this,” he muttered, his voice low. “She was one of them. How do we know she’s not leading us into a trap?”

Aria’s grip tightened on Rollan. “She left them, Caden. She’s risking her life to help us. And we need her knowledge of the catacombs.”

His eyes flicked to Elara, then back to Aria. “I’ll trust your judgment. But if she betrays us—”

“She won’t,” Aria said firmly, though a sliver of doubt remained. She can’t.

The forest thickened as they neared the keep’s outer reaches, the trees growing gnarled and twisted. A faint mist curled around their ankles, carrying a chill that seeped into Aria’s bones. Rollan stirred, his tiny hand brushing against her chest, his mark glowing faintly beneath his sleeve. Aria’s heart clenched. He’s too young for this burden.

Elara halted abruptly, her hand raised in warning. “We’re close,” she whispered. “But the entrance is guarded by more than just stone. The first wolves wove protections into the earth—only those bound by blood can pass.”

Aria’s pulse quickened. “What does that mean?”

Elara’s gaze settled on Rollan. “The relic is tied to the prophecy. His blood—your bloodline, may be the key to entering.”

Caden’s expression darkened. “You didn’t mention that before.”

Elara met his stare unflinchingly. “I didn’t know until now. The wards are reacting to his presence.”

Before they could press further, a low growl rumbled through the trees. Aria’s blood turned to ice as shapes emerged from the mist—three massive wolves, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light, their fur matted and dark. But these were no ordinary beasts; their forms flickered, as if woven from shadow and smoke.

“Wraiths,” Elara breathed. “Guardians of the catacombs.”

Caden drew his sword, his stance protective. “Can we fight them?”

Elara shook her head. “They’re bound to the wards. Only the blood of the first wolves can dispel them.”

Aria’s mind raced. Rollan. She looked down at her son, his innocent eyes wide with curiosity. “What do I do?”

Elara’s voice was urgent. “A drop of his blood on the earth. It should calm them.”

Caden’s face twisted with conflict, but he nodded. “Do it.”

With trembling hands, Aria pricked Rollan’s finger with her dagger, wincing as he let out a small cry. A single drop of blood fell to the ground, and the earth trembled in response. The wraiths paused, their growls fading as the mist swirled around them. One by one, they dissolved into the air, leaving only silence.

Aria exhaled, her heart pounding. “It worked.”

Elara’s expression was grim. “The path is open, but the wards will grow stronger the deeper we go.”

They pressed on, the forest giving way to a crumbling stone archway half-buried in the hillside. The entrance to the catacombs yawned before them, a dark maw exhaling a chill wind. Aria’s skin prickled with unease, but she steeled herself, stepping into the shadows with Rollan cradled close.

The tunnel was narrow, its walls slick with moisture and etched with faded runes. Torches flickered to life as they passed, casting wavering light across the stone. Elara led the way, her steps sure despite the labyrinthine twists. “The relic is in the heart of the catacombs,” she said. “A chamber sealed by the first wolves. It holds the key to binding your blood and breaking the curse.”

Caden’s voice was tight. “And what exactly is this relic?”

Elara hesitated, then spoke. “A fang from the first alpha, imbued with the essence of the wolf spirit. It can amplify or nullify the prophecy’s power, depending on the ritual.”

Aria’s heart skipped. “So, if Darius gets it—”

“He could twist the prophecy beyond repair,” Elara finished. “That’s why we must reach it first.”

The tunnel opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in shadow. In the center stood a stone pedestal, upon which rested a single, gleaming fang, its surface shimmering with an inner light. But as they approached, the ground trembled, and the runes on the walls flared to life.

A voice echoed through the chamber, ancient and commanding. “Only those bound by blood may claim the relic. Prove your unity, or be consumed by the curse.”

Aria’s breath caught as the air crackled with energy. The pedestal split open, revealing a pool of dark, swirling liquid. Elara’s eyes widened. “It’s a blood trial. You must both offer your blood to prove your bond.”

Caden stepped forward, his expression resolute. “Then we do it.”

But as Aria moved to join him, a sharp pain lanced through her side. She gasped, clutching her abdomen, her vision blurring. The curse. It was reacting, as if sensing the relic’s power.

“Aria!” Caden’s voice was sharp with alarm.

Elara’s face paled. “The curse is fighting back. You must complete the trial quickly.”

Aria gritted her teeth, forcing herself to the pedestal. She sliced her palm, letting her blood drip into the pool. Caden did the same, their crimson drops mingling with the liquid. The pool glowed, and the fang lifted into the air, its light intensifying.

But the ground shook violently, and a crack split the chamber floor. From the fissure, a shadowy figure emerged—Victor’s essence, his form more solid than before, his golden eyes blazing with fury. “You think you can break the curse so easily?” he snarled. “I am the prophecy now.”

Aria’s heart seized. He’s here.

Caden drew his sword, his stance protective. “You’re not taking them.”

Victor’s laugh was a blade of ice. “Oh, but I will. Starting with the child.”

The shadows surged, and Aria screamed as a tendril of darkness lashed out, wrapping around Rollan’s small form. She lunged, but it was too late—the tendril yanked him from her arms, pulling him toward Victor.

“No!” she cried, her voice raw with terror.

Caden roared, shifting into his wolf form and leaping at Victor, but the spectral figure vanished, reappearing on the far side of the chamber with Rollan clutched in his grasp.

“Choose,” Victor hissed, his eyes gleaming. “Save the child, or claim the relic. You can’t have both.”

The chamber trembled again, the fissure widening, and Aria’s world narrowed to a single, horrifying choice.