Chapter 7

The mansion had always loomed grand, echoing, thick with secrets. But after the ritual, after Damien confessed to memories that were never his, the halls changed. Now, every carved pillar and moonlit corridor seemed to watch Lena, their silent awareness pressing in, waiting for her to notice.

Or perhaps it was she who had changed.

The change began quietly.

A whisper in her dreams the first night.

A warmth beneath her skin, the second.

A soft glow, the third.

By the fourth morning, Lena knew something was wrong.

She faced the tall, antique mirror in her guest chamber, fingers trembling as she eased down the collar of her nightshirt. Beneath her skin, a faint shimmer pulsed an ember longing for air.

A mark.

A silvery, swirling sigil just below her collarbone.

Alive.

“Lena?” Damien’s voice came from the doorway rough, tired, and careful. He knocked softly even though the door was open. “I didn’t want to wake you, but ”

He stopped.

His breath left him in a single strangled sound.

Lena turned toward him, her fingers hovering over the glowing sigil. “Damien… what is this?”

For a moment, he didn’t move. His eyes, always sharp and cool as steel, softened around the edges with something that looked frighteningly like recognition.

“That’s the Anchor Mark,” Damien whispered.

He stepped closer, slowly, as if approaching something sacred. “I saw it. In the memories. On the woman who looked like you.”

Lena’s pulse raced. “What does it mean?”

Damien dragged a trembling hand through his hair. “It means you’re not only tied to the curse… you’re tied to me.”

His words stole the air from her lungs.

He took another cautious step, stopping inches from her. “May I…?”

She nodded.

He reached out with feather-light fingers, tracing the glowing sigil. His touch was warm warmer than it should be. The mark responded instantly, flaring beneath his fingertips like a spark meeting oxygen.

Lena gasped.

Damien jerked his hand back, eyes wide. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she breathed. “It… reacted.”

“To me,” he murmured.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening, gravity drawing them closer. Behind Damien’s eyes, Lena glimpsed fear, wonder, guilt, desire, and destiny emotions so tangled they threatened to unravel her.

“Damien, what does this mean for us?”

He exhaled shakily. “It means the curse didn’t just pick you because you’re here.” He swallowed. “It picked you because you’re mine.”

Lena froze.

“I don’t mean that as possession,” he added quickly, pain flickering across his features. “The memories… they showed us in another life. Bound by vow. By blood. By love.”

Her heart stumbled.

“Are you saying we were lovers?” Lena whispered.

He hesitated, his voice trembling. “I’m saying we were connected. In a way I can’t explain. In a way time didn’t break.”

Silence wrapped around them, thick as fog.

Then the pain hit.

Sharp, sudden, searing.

Lena doubled over with a cry, clutching at her chest.

Damien lunged, catching her before she collapsed. “Lena! Talk to me what’s happening?”

The mark blazed like molten silver. A tendril of light shot from her chest, curling around Damien’s wrist like a chain of fire before dissolving into sparks.

They both gasped.

“Damien…” she sobbed. “Something’s inside me.”

He gathered her into his arms, lifting her easily. “We’re going to the ritual chamber. Now.”

She clung to him as her vision blurred at the edges. Dizzy, she hovered between past and present, her mind flickering through memories that did not belong to her.

A woman screaming under a crimson moon.

A wolf kneeling before her.

Blood dripping from a crescent-shaped wound.

A vow whispered in a dying breath: “Find me in every life.”

Damien felt her shudder and held her closer.

“Just hold on,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m here. I’m not losing you.”

The mark pulsed again once, twice and then exploded with light.

Lena cried out.

The ritual hall flickered around her and suddenly

She wasn’t in the present anymore.

She found herself in a vast stone corridor. Torches flickered along ancient walls, their flames dancing in the cold wind that carried the scent of iron and night-blooming flowers.

And she was not alone.

A man stood before her Damien, but not Damien. Dressed in dark ceremonial robes, silver embroidery glowing like constellations across the fabric. His eyes were older, deeper, ancient in their grief.

He reached for her cheek with trembling fingers.

“Do you swear to bind your soul to mine? Even if curses return? Even if lifetimes tear us apart?”

Her own voice another version of her spoke with unwavering devotion.

“I swear. Find me. In every life.”

The vision shattered.

Lena collapsed back into Damien’s arms. The Anchor Mark dimmed but did not disappear.

Damien held her tightly, his voice cracking with fear. “Lena look at me. Stay with me.”

Her eyelids fluttered.

“We’ve done this before…” she whispered. “You and I.”

Damien pressed his forehead to hers, breath shaking. “I know.”

His voice broke. “And this time, I’m terrified of losing you again.”

Lena touched his cheek weakly.

“Then don’t lose me,” she whispered. “Help me.”

Damien’s fingers tightened around her.

“I will,” he vowed, voice trembling. “I swear it on every lifetime we’ve lived.”

And the Anchor Mark glowed soft, warm, alive.

A bond stirring to life for the first time, yet echoing with the memory of countless awakenings before.