Chapter 32

The Light of Unity

Aria’s heart thundered in her chest as she faced Victor’s shadowy essence, his spectral claws wrapped around Rollan’s small form. The catacombs’ damp air clung to her skin, the crimson glow of Victor’s eyes casting an eerie light across the chamber. Rollan’s terrified whimpers echoed off the stone walls, each sound a dagger to her soul. Above them, the fang of the first alpha—the relic they’d fought so hard to claim—hummed with latent power atop its pedestal. Victor’s voice slithered through the darkness, cold and taunting.

“Choose, Aria. The relic or your son. You can’t have both.”

Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms. The blood trial’s sting still lingered, her cut palm dripping crimson onto the floor. She glanced at Caden, his wolf form tense beside her, amber eyes blazing with fury. Then at Rollan, his tiny face streaked with tears, the golden mark on his arm faintly pulsing. There was no choice—there never had been.

“I choose my son,” she declared, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “I’ll always choose him.”

Victor’s laugh was a chilling gust, his form flickering as he tightened his grip on Rollan. “Then you forfeit everything—your power, your pack, your future.”

Caden surged forward, fur bristling, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “You underestimate us, Victor. You always have.”

Elara, standing near the pedestal, her silver hair glinting in the relic’s glow, spoke urgently. “The blood trial—it’s not just about claiming the fang. It’s about unity. Your bond.”

Aria’s gaze snapped to her. “What do you mean?”

Elara’s eyes flicked between the relic and Rollan. “The trial demands blood from both of you, bound by love. That’s the key to the relic, to breaking the curse, to defeating him.”

Victor’s form wavered, a flicker of doubt crossing his spectral face. “You think your pathetic love can stop me? I am eternal, the prophecy’s chosen!”

“No,” Aria said, her voice rising with conviction. “The prophecy belongs to us—me, Caden, and Rollan. Our bond is stronger than your hate.”

She locked eyes with Caden, a silent pact passing between them. Together, they stepped toward the pedestal. Aria deepened the cut on her palm, wincing as blood welled anew. Caden shifted back to human form, his own hand trembling but steady as he sliced it open. Their blood mingled in the shallow pool beneath the fang, a scarlet thread binding them.

The relic flared to life, its glow intensifying with each drop, a beacon in the gloom. Rollan’s mark blazed in response, golden light spilling from his arm, flooding the chamber with warmth. Victor snarled, his shadows twisting as the radiance pressed against him.

“You can’t do this!” he roared, but his voice cracked, fraying at the edges.

Aria darted forward, scooping Rollan from Victor’s grasp as the light enveloped them. She clutched him to her chest, his small body trembling against hers. Caden joined them, his hand firm on her shoulder, their family a united front. The relic’s power surged, a tidal wave of energy that crashed into Victor’s essence.

His scream shattered the air, a wail of rage and despair. The shadows splintered, dissolving into wisps that faded into the stone. The crimson glow extinguished, leaving only the relic’s soft hum. Silence fell, heavy and absolute.

Aria’s legs gave out, and she sank to her knees, Rollan cradled in her arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed kisses to his forehead. “You’re safe,” she whispered, her voice breaking with relief.

Caden knelt beside her, human once more, blood seeping from wounds sustained earlier. “Is it over?” he rasped, exhaustion lining his face.

Elara approached the pedestal, her expression a mix of awe and caution. “Victor’s essence is gone. The relic purged it. But…” She hesitated, glancing at the chamber’s entrance, now blocked by fallen rubble. “Darius and his loyalists are still out there. They’ll come for the fang.”

Aria’s stomach twisted. Darius. Victor’s cunning second-in-command, now leading the loyalists with ruthless precision. She met Caden’s grim gaze. “We need to get back to the keep,” he said, his hand brushing her arm. “Regroup and prepare.”

They retrieved the fang, its weight deceptively light in Aria’s hands, and followed Elara through the catacombs’ winding tunnels. Her knowledge guided them to the surface, where moonlight pierced the forest canopy. But as they emerged, a distant rumble froze them in place—boots on stone, voices sharp with intent. Aria’s pulse raced. They’re here.

A figure stepped into the clearing—tall, imposing, with eyes like polished steel. Darius. Behind him, a dozen loyalists spread out, weapons gleaming. “You’ve been busy,” he said, his tone smooth yet venomous. “Victor’s gone, I take it?”

Aria’s grip tightened on the fang. “He’s finished. And you’re next.”

Darius’s smile was a blade’s edge. “Bold words for cornered prey. Give me the child and the relic, and I might let you live.”

Caden’s wolf rose, a growl vibrating through him. “You’ll have to kill us first.”

“Easily arranged,” Darius sneered, and the loyalists attacked.

Chaos erupted. Caden shifted, his black wolf form a whirlwind of claws and teeth. Aria thrust Rollan into Elara’s arms, who retreated behind a tree, her hands sparking with defensive magic. Drawing her dagger, Aria fought beside Caden, her cursed blood singing with power as she parried and struck.

Darius was a storm of precision, his sword driving Caden back, a gash opening on his arm. Aria lunged, her dagger nicking Darius’s side. He snarled, seizing her wrist and twisting until the blade clattered to the ground.

“You’re outmatched,” he hissed, his sword poised to strike.

A scream cut through the fray—Elara, shielding Rollan as a loyalist closed in. Panic surged through Aria. “Rollan!”

Darius’s grip tightened, but then Rollan’s mark erupted, a pulse of golden light that blinded and burned. The loyalists stumbled, disoriented. Aria wrenched free, racing to her son, but Darius’s voice rang out.

“This isn’t over,” he vowed, retreating with his surviving men. “The blood moon rises tomorrow. You can’t hide.”

The forest stilled, the enemy gone—for now. Aria gathered Rollan close, her breath ragged. Caden limped to her, blood streaking his face. “We need to move,” he urged.

Elara’s voice was tense. “The keep’s catacombs are our only hope. The ritual must be done before the blood moon.”

They fled through the trees, a chilling howl rising behind them—not a wolf’s, but something darker, drawn by the prophecy. The keep loomed ahead, its gates open, unguarded. Aria’s heart sank. “Something’s wrong.”

Caden paled. “The loyalists—they’ve breached it.”

A figure emerged in the torchlight—Lena, their former ally turned traitor, her eyes alight with triumph. “Welcome back,” she purred. “Darius has been expecting you.”

The courtyard teemed with loyalists, weapons ready. Aria straightened, the fang’s light flaring. “We’re not done yet,” she said, Caden’s hand finding hers as they faced the storm together.