A Curse That Waited

POV: Vaelor

Five years later.

The mountains of Rauvenhollow burned gold beneath the rising sun, but the beauty of it barely registered anymore.

I stood alone on the fortress battlements, one hand resting against the cold stone as wind swept through the valley below. Pine forests stretched endlessly beneath the cliffs, dark and ancient beneath drifting mist. Far below, wolves moved through the courtyard preparing for the morning patrol.

My pack.

My responsibility.

My curse.

“Beautiful morning.”

Serik’s voice came from behind me. I didn’t turn immediately. I already knew the expression I would find on his face: cautious concern hidden beneath forced calm.

Everyone looked at me that way these days.

“It’s cold,” I said instead.

Serik stepped beside me at the wall, folding his arms against the wind. “You always liked the cold.”

That had once been true.

Before.

Before the curse. Before my father’s death. Before sleep became something I feared.

Now the cold only reminded me of the thing living beneath my skin.

“The patrol is ready,” Serik said after a moment. “I can lead it.”

“No.”

“You haven’t slept.”

“I said no.”

The words came out sharper than intended.

Serik exhaled quietly but didn’t argue further. He had learned when to push and when not to. Most of the pack feared me too much to speak honestly anymore, but Serik had known me since childhood. He remembered the man I had been before becoming Alpha.

Sometimes I envied him for that.

I pushed away from the battlement wall. “Gather the others.”

The courtyard below buzzed with movement when we descended. Wolves moved between supply carts and weapon racks while servants hauled firewood toward the kitchens. Several warriors straightened immediately when they saw me approaching.

Fear.

Respect.

Submission.

The reactions blurred together after a while.

I gathered six wolves for the patrol, experienced fighters I trusted to keep formation and obey orders. Kael stood among them, young and broad-shouldered, barely twenty winters old and eager to prove himself.

He grinned when he caught my attention.

“North border again, Alpha?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we’ll finally catch one of those Bloodmoor spies.”

A few warriors laughed quietly.

I forced a faint smirk, though it felt unnatural on my face these days. “Try not to start a war before midday.”

Kael grinned wider.

For a brief moment, the heaviness in my chest eased.

Then the hollow ache returned.

Always waiting.

We shifted just beyond the fortress gates.

The transformation should have felt natural. Powerful. Freeing.

Instead, it felt strained.

Wrong.

Bones snapped and reshaped while fur spread across my skin, but the connection to my wolf remained distorted, as though something stood between us inside my own body.

The curse.

Even after five years, I still felt it every time I shifted.

The others took off through the forest immediately, paws tearing across frozen earth. I followed close behind, snow spraying beneath us as we ran through the mountain pines.

For a while, instinct took over.

The wind carried prey scents through the trees. Ice cracked beneath the riverbanks. The pack moved as one living thing.

This was the only time my thoughts quieted.

As a wolf, I could almost pretend I was still whole.

Then the pain began.

It struck without warning.

A violent burning sensation exploded beneath my ribs, sharp enough to nearly send me tumbling through the snow. My wolf stumbled mid-stride.

The others slowed instantly.

I tried to recover.

Tried to push through it.

But the hollow place inside me suddenly opened wider.

Something surged upward from the darkness within my chest.

Cold.

Ancient.

Hungry.

No.

Panic slammed through me.

I fought for control, but my wolf was no longer listening. My vision blurred red as something else pressed forward beneath my skin.

The world fractured.

Sounds became distant. Movement slowed. Blood scent filled the air.

When awareness returned, I was standing in the snow again.

Breathing hard.

Blood covered the ground beneath me.

Kael lay motionless at my feet.

His throat had been torn open.

For a moment, I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.

Then horror crashed into me all at once.

“No…”

The word barely escaped my throat.

I shifted back violently, human skin replacing fur as I stumbled backward through the snow. Blood streaked my hands, my chest, my mouth.

Kael’s body remained still.

Dead.

The others stood frozen several yards away.

Terrified.

Not of an enemy.

Of me.

“Alpha…” one of them whispered.

Serik shifted first, his expression pale beneath the morning light.

“What happened?”

I looked at Kael again.

Fragments returned in flashes.

Claws. Screaming. Blood.

And something inside me enjoying it.

“I lost control,” I said hoarsely.

No one moved.

The silence felt unbearable.

Finally, Serik stepped forward carefully, as though approaching a wounded predator.

“We need to return to Rauvenhollow.”

I nodded numbly.

The journey back felt longer than it should have.

Kael’s body was wrapped in cloaks and carried between two warriors while I walked several paces ahead of the others, unable to bear the sight of him. Snow drifted steadily from the sky now, covering our tracks almost as quickly as we made them.

By the time the fortress gates came into view, word had already spread.

Wolves watched from the walls in uneasy silence as we entered the courtyard.

They saw the blood on me. Saw Kael’s body.

And they understood.

The Alpha had killed one of his own.

Fear spread quickly through a pack.

I could smell it everywhere.

“Get Maren,” I ordered quietly.

Serik nodded immediately.

I went straight to my chambers.

The room felt suffocating.

I scrubbed Kael’s blood from my hands until my skin turned raw, but the scent lingered in my mind no matter how hard I tried to erase it.

You killed him.

The thought repeated endlessly.

Not in my own voice.

I stared at my reflection in the basin water and barely recognized the man staring back.

Dark circles hollowed my eyes. Tension carved itself permanently into my face. Even standing still, I looked like something bracing for violence.

A knock sounded at the door.

Maren entered without waiting for permission.

She looked ancient even by wolf standards, her silver hair braided tightly behind her back and her pale eyes sharp despite age. She carried the scent of herbs and old magic everywhere she went.

“You look worse,” she muttered immediately.

“Careful,” I said dryly.

“I’m too old to fear your temper.”

She crossed the room and pressed a hand against my chest before I could object. Her eyes closed briefly.

The moment her magic touched the curse, her expression darkened.

“That bad?” I asked quietly.

“Yes.”

The single word settled heavily between us.

Maren stepped back slowly. “It’s feeding faster now.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

“How long?”

“I don’t know.” For the first time in years, uncertainty flickered across her face. “The seal is deteriorating, Vaelor. Every shift weakens it further. Every time you use your wolf, it grows stronger.”

I looked away.

Kael’s blood flashed through my mind again.

“What happens when the seal breaks?”

Maren was silent too long.

Finally, she answered.

“You stop being yourself.”

A cold weight settled in my chest.

“And the thing inside me?”

Her expression hardened.

“I don’t know what your witch sealed into you five years ago. But it isn’t normal magic. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Neither had I.

Sometimes, late at night, I could feel it moving beneath my skin. Watching. Waiting.

Hungry.

“There may be one chance,” Maren said carefully.

I looked at her sharply.

“The witch who cast the curse…”

“Is dead.”

“Yes,” Maren agreed. “But blood magic often follows bloodlines. If she had descendants—”

“My daughter will finish what I started.”

The words slipped out before I realized I had spoken aloud.

Maren narrowed her eyes immediately. “What did you say?”

I cursed internally.

“Nothing.”

“Vaelor.”

I turned away from her. “Leave it alone.”

But now I could feel it again.

That memory.

The dying witch beneath the sacred stones. Amber eyes dimming beneath moonlight.

My daughter will finish what I started.

Five years, and I still heard those words in my sleep.

Maren studied me for another long moment before sighing heavily. “You’re running out of time.”

Then she left.

I stood alone in silence after she was gone.

Outside, night slowly swallowed the mountains.

The hollow ache inside my chest pulsed steadily now, almost like a second heartbeat.

Then came another knock.

Serik entered carefully.

“The council is gathering,” he said. “They want answers about Kael.”

“They’ll get none.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “They’re frightened.”

“They should be.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

I said nothing.

Serik hesitated before continuing.

“There’s more.”

Of course there was.

“What now?”

“The council believes you should take a mate.”

I laughed once, humorless and cold.

Serik pressed on carefully. “The rival packs are watching us closely. Bloodmoor already senses weakness after what happened today. A mating bond would strengthen your position politically.”

A mate.

The idea alone made something dark twist violently inside my chest.

No.

Absolutely not.

The curse fed on emotion. Connection. Attachment.

Anything strong enough to anchor me to another person weakened the fragile control I still possessed.

I had learned that the hard way years ago.

“No,” I said flatly.

“Vaelor—”

“No.”

My voice cracked through the room hard enough that even Serik fell silent.

The firelight flickered across the walls between us.

Finally, he lowered his gaze slightly.

“As you command, Alpha.”

After he left, silence returned once more.

But not true silence.

Never true silence.

Because deep inside the hollow place within my chest—

Something stirred.

Far away, beyond the mountains and forests of Rauvenhollow, magic awakened.

And somewhere in the dark marshlands of Eldwyre, a young woman woke screaming as amber light burned beneath her skin.