Chapter 5

The dawn came crimson, the sky veined with fire.

Lena stood at the balcony of her chamber, the pendant at her throat pulsing faintly in rhythm with her heartbeat. The forest below was unnaturally still; not a single bird stirred, not a whisper of wind moved the pines. It was the calm before something vast and final.

The Blood Moon had risen. Tonight, the curse would either break or consume them both.

Damien had vanished before sunrise, leaving only a note, written with the same precision and restraint that had defined his every gesture:

Do not follow me into the forest. When the moon eclipses, the beast must die or I must.

The ink had smudged, as if written with shaking hands.

Lena pressed the paper to her chest. Her silence, once a burden, now screamed louder than any voice could. She could feel his pain echoing in her bones, through the bond that tethered them.

She would not lose him. Not again.

By twilight, the mansion had become a cathedral of ghosts. The portraits on the walls seemed to watch her pass. In the hall of mirrors, her reflection wavered—not just one Lena, but a dozen, layered through time.

In each, the same pendant gleamed.

The red book lay open on the table, its last page blank except for one unfinished line written in faded ink:

Only when silence roars will the curse be broken.

She traced the words with her fingers, and understanding struck like lightning.

Her silence wasn’t punishment. It was the key.

She was the echo of the woman who once heard the beast within him and answered not with fear, but with stillness. The moon didn’t curse them it listened. It waited for her to speak, one last time.

When the first shadow of the eclipse crossed the moon, Lena was already running.

The forest loomed, wild and endless. Branches clawed at her coat, mud sucked at her boots, but the pendant guided her its silver glow pulsing brighter with every heartbeat.

She reached a clearing bathed in blood-red light.

Damien stood at its center, bare-chested, the mark on his wrist burning like molten silver. Chains circled him, half-broken, half-binding. His eyes—half-man, half-wolf met hers with sorrow and awe.

“Lena… why did you come?” His voice was a raw growl, words trembling under the strain of transformation.

She shook her head, breathless, tears glinting. Because I remember.

He froze. “You can’t”

But she stepped closer, hand trembling as she held up the pendant. “The Oracle died in fire. You carried her voice into silence. You were never cursed, Damien. You were keeping your promise.”

He bowed his head, teeth bared in anguish. “I tried to protect you from this fate.”

The moon flared red behind the clouds, swallowing the stars.

His body shuddered, bones snapping, claws tearing through his hands. “It’s too late RUN!”

But she didn’t.

Instead, Lena dropped the pendant to the ground, kneeling before him. The glow flared, brighter now, binding them in silver light.

“I can’t speak,” she mouthed, tears spilling, “but I can listen.”

The wolf’s roar split the night. The forest trembled. The chains shattered.

He towered above her now massive, magnificent, terrifying. Yet even in that monstrous form, his eyes shone with grief, with recognition.

Lena closed her eyes and placed a trembling hand on his chest. The silence between them became thunder.

You are not alone, she thought.

And for the first time since the night she lost her voice, she felt words forming—not from her throat, but from her soul.

“Damien.”

The sound was soft, broken… but real.

The wolf froze. The silver fire in his veins turned white.

“Come back to me,” she whispered, her first words in six years. “Hear me.”

The moon reached its zenith, the eclipse full. The clearing erupted in light. The air vibrated with the power of every vow ever made beneath the moon.

Damien staggered, his body splitting between man and beast. “Lena… I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

She stepped closer, pressing her palm to his heart. “You made a contract with silence. Let it end with my voice.”

Then she kissed him.

The world broke open.

Light poured from the mark on his skin, racing through her veins, binding them in silver flame. The ground shook, the trees bowed, the wolves howled in unison as if the forest itself was singing their name.

When the light finally dimmed, she was on her knees, trembling, breathless.

Damien lay beside her human again, eyes closed, skin pale as moonlight.

For a horrible moment, she thought he was gone.

Then he stirred, breath catching, voice rasping: “You spoke…”

She laughed a sound of disbelief and joy mingled with tears. “You heard me.”

He reached up, fingers tracing her cheek. “Always.”

The moon slowly emerged from its shadow, silver light washing over them both.

The pendant beside them had melted into two intertwined crescents a single symbol. The old magic was gone.

And with it, the curse.

Days later, the mansion was quiet again but not empty.

The portraits no longer watched; the wolves no longer howled. The air was lighter, the forest alive with morning birdsong.

Lena painted in the library, the walls now full of color her art, her words, her rebirth. She could speak again, but still preferred silence. It was no longer her prison; it was her sanctuary.

Damien appeared at the doorway, freshly shaven, wearing a smile that looked almost human and wholly free.

“Talking yet?” he teased gently.

She turned, smiling. “Only when it matters.”

He walked to her, touching the silver scar that now marked both their wrists a twin crescent glowing faintly beneath the skin.

“The curse broke,” she said softly.

He nodded. “No. It changed shape.”

“How so?”

He leaned in, whispering against her ear, “Now it’s called love.”

Lena laughed, the sound echoing like sunlight through an open window.

Outside, a wolf howled not in pain, but in peace.

And in that echo, silence finally roared.