Isabella's Reckoning

The night pressed down on me like a living thing, heavy and suffocating, yet somehow familiar. The ruins of the old watchtower were a fragile sanctuary, its walls cracked and worn, but for the first time in hours, I felt a flicker of safety. Yet the bond between Alexander and me throbbed like a heartbeat, sharp and insistent, reminding me that danger was never far behind.

I shifted slightly on the pile of blankets, wincing as pain flared along my ribs. The bruises were deeper than I had realized, and each movement sent a ripple of agony through my body. But more than the physical hurt, there was the emotional weight—fear, despair, and the unrelenting pull of the curse.

I drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. My fingers grazed the edge of Alexander’s coat, still draped over me. His scent lingered—wood smoke, rain, and something indefinably him. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the memory of his presence, his voice, his hands. It was a lifeline, but also a