Chapter 25: The Shadow Mark

The wind howled through the trees as the convoy moved through the northern pass.

Selene rode beside Rowan in tense silence, her eyes scanning the dense forest beyond the path. Something about the air felt wrong—thicker, heavier. Each breath carried the copper tang of blood and the unmistakable stench of dark magic.

They had barely covered half a day’s ride from the ravaged village when the first signs appeared: claw marks too deep for any natural wolf, strange black vines curling along tree trunks as if the forest itself had been cursed.

“Stop,” Selene said suddenly, pulling her horse to a halt.

Rowan’s steed jerked beside hers, and he turned, brows furrowed. “What is it?”

She slid down and knelt near one of the twisted vines, touching the edge with her fingers. It hissed faintly at the contact. Her breath caught.

“It’s shadow rot,” she whispered. “A mark left by darkblood wolves. I’ve only read about them in ancient scrolls.”

Rowan dismounted, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “I thought they were a myth.”

“No,” Selene replied, rising to her feet. “They’re real. Born from rogue wolves who bathed in forbidden blood rituals. Their strength multiplies in the dark. They’re no longer bound by the moon.”

One of the scouts behind them cursed. “You mean they can shift at will?”

“Yes,” she said. “And they obey no Alpha. Not even you.”

Rowan’s eyes darkened. “Then we kill them all.”

Selene hesitated. “You don’t understand. These creatures… they don’t just kill. They consume. Souls, memories, even identity. Once they’ve marked a place, it doesn’t heal.”

Rowan’s grip tightened on his sword. “Then we burn the forest.”

She caught his wrist. “No. If you do that, it’ll spread faster. Fire awakens the dormant curse.”

He stared at her, breathing hard. “How do you know this?”

“I told you,” she said. “My mother wasn’t just a healer. She was a seer. She studied the darkbloods before she was executed for it.”

Rowan looked away, jaw tense. “The council labeled her a traitor.”

“They were wrong.”

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Suddenly, a howl split the trees—a sound so unnatural, it made every soldier in the convoy freeze. Low, guttural, and echoing with something ancient and hateful.

“Positions!” Rowan barked.

The guards snapped to attention, forming a circle around the royals. Selene didn’t flinch. She was already unfastening the silver dagger at her waist, her eyes glowing faintly under the rising moonlight.

From the shadows, the first wolf emerged.

But it wasn’t like any werewolf Selene had seen.

Its body was taller than a stallion, its fur slick with oily darkness. Its eyes glowed red, and black mist curled from its fangs. It snarled—but not like an animal. There was intelligence in its gaze. Malice.

Rowan stepped forward, blade drawn.

“Get behind me,” he said.

Selene didn’t move. “I fight beside you, not behind.”

Before Rowan could argue, the beast lunged.

He met it mid-air, swords clashing against claws. Selene moved like lightning, circling the side, her dagger glowing silver as she slashed at the beast’s exposed ribs.

The creature screamed, twisting away—but not before Rowan’s blade bit into its leg.

Two more emerged from the shadows. The convoy broke into chaos. Soldiers fought bravely, but these creatures didn’t fall easily. Arrows glanced off their hides. Fire only made them stronger.

Selene grabbed a fallen torch and flung it into the trees—not at the beasts, but at a circle of strange runes carved into the dirt.

A burst of white fire exploded, forcing the shadow wolves to retreat with shrieks of fury.

Rowan stood panting, blood dripping from a gash on his shoulder. Selene ran to him, pressing her palm over the wound.

“It’s deep,” she said. “You need healing herbs.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Not yet. We need to figure out where they came from.”

Selene looked toward the smoking rune circle. “I know where.”

Scene Shift: The Forgotten Temple

They reached it by moonrise—a crumbling ruin deep in the cursed woods. Stone columns leaned like broken teeth, and vines had swallowed what once might have been sacred ground.

Selene led the way, torch in hand. Her fingers brushed against symbols etched into the stones—old ones, from a language lost to most.

“This place was built by the first Seers,” she said. “It was meant to seal the darkness beneath.”

Rowan stepped beside her. “It failed?”

“No,” she said, her voice small. “Someone unsealed it.”

In the center of the temple lay a cracked altar. A pool of blood shimmered at its base, feeding into long-dead roots.

Selene touched the edge and flinched. Visions exploded in her mind—fire, teeth, screams. A woman’s voice calling her name.

“Selene!”

Rowan caught her as she staggered back, pale and trembling.

“They’re using my bloodline,” she gasped. “Someone is using my family’s magic to break the seals.”

Rowan’s eyes were cold. “Who?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s someone powerful. Someone inside the kingdom.”

Rowan looked toward the horizon, where dawn was breaking.

“Then we return to the capital,” he said. “Tonight.”

Selene looked up at him. “And what happens when your council finds out I’m part of this prophecy? That I carry the same blood the darkness is drawn to?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“Then I’ll burn the council before I let them touch you.”

Their eyes locked again, not in fear—but in unity.

War was coming.

And together, they would face it.