Bloodline Bound

The moon was still too damn bright.

It hung over the Blackthorn Estate like it was waiting for something to snap. Everything felt tight—like the whole place was holding its breath. Floorboards creaked louder. Shadows lingered longer.

Ezra stood in front of the cracked mirror in his room, shirt off, staring at the mark on his arm.

It wasn’t just glowing anymore.

It throbbed, like it had a heartbeat of its own. Gold and red shimmered beneath his skin, threaded now with something darker—like veins of ash twisting through light.

He touched it, jaw clenched. It didn’t hurt, not exactly. But when he looked up and met his own reflection, he froze.

His eyes weren’t right.

Too deep. Too sharp. Like they weren’t his. Like someone—or something—was looking out through them.

“Still up?” Kael’s voice was soft at the door, just above a whisper.

Ezra didn’t turn. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Kael stepped inside, quiet like he didn’t want to break something fragile. A new bandage was wrapped around his ribs, and his eyes—steady and unreadable—found Ezra’s reflection in the mirror.

“It’s glowing again,” Ezra said, his voice low.

“I see it.” Kael didn’t flinch.

He moved behind Ezra—not touching, just close enough to be felt. The kind of closeness that steadied without smothering.

“What if it’s not just the mark?” Ezra asked, eyes still on the mirror. “What if I’m changing?”

Kael didn’t rush the answer. “Then we figure it out. Like we always do.”

Ezra laughed under his breath—tight, bitter. “You say that like I’m still me.”

“You are,” Kael said. “Just waking up.”

Ezra turned slowly to face him. “What if I’m waking up… for Raen?”

The name cut something sharp through the room. Kael’s expression didn’t change, but the tension in his jaw did.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

“No.” Ezra shook his head fast. “It’s not that. It’s like… something in me knows him. Like my blood reacts when he’s near. I can’t control it.”

Kael stepped a little closer. “Your blood isn’t the whole of you.”

Ezra met his eyes, searching them. “But what if it decides for me?”

“It won’t,” Kael said. “Not unless you let it.”

Ezra nodded, but it wasn’t certainty. It was hope dressed up as agreement. Because Raen’s voice was still in his head—still pulling. And the mark? It burned hotter every time his name crossed Ezra’s mind.

---

By morning, the estate was a mess of footsteps and tension.

Wolves ran patrols like their lives depended on it. Elders barked orders. Weapons gleamed in hands that had forgotten peace. And Kael—Kael had been pulled into yet another war room meeting.

Ezra hadn’t been invited. Again.

So he walked. No destination. Just instinct. His feet carried him to the old chapel at the edge of the woods—a half-collapsed building with dust for carpet and silence for walls. The altar was cracked. The pews sagged.

It felt honest.

He sat.

Didn’t cry. Didn’t think. Just breathed.

Until Selene showed up, balancing a small tray of herbs and eyeing him like he was a candle about to explode.

“Figured you’d be hiding somewhere dramatic,” she said, stepping in like she owned the place.

Ezra didn’t even look up. “It’s not hiding if I don’t want to be found.”

She raised a brow, dropping the tray beside him with a soft clatter. “You’re glowing like a cursed lantern. Whole estate’s on edge, and you’re out here sulking.”

“Sulking is a strong word,” Ezra muttered.

“You want the soft version or the truth?”

Ezra sighed. “Fine. Hit me.”

Selene sat across from him on the floor. “You’re scared. And that’s fine. But don’t let that fear twist you into thinking you don’t have a choice.”

He blinked. “You believe in the mark stuff?”

“I believe you’re not some random omega who wandered into this war by accident.”

Ezra scoffed. “I feel pretty damn accidental.”

She tilted her head. “You ever wonder why your wolf never fully surfaced before Blackthorn?”

Ezra frowned. “What?”

“You shifted, yeah. But only halfway. It wasn’t until here—until Kael—that you started feeling real.”

Ezra stared at her. “So you think… what, I was waiting?”

She stood, brushing her hands off. “Sometimes the wolf knows before the man does.”

---

That night, Ezra couldn’t stay still.

He walked again—out past the training fields, past the wards, to the cliff that overlooked the whole valley. The wind cut into him like claws. His breath fogged in the air.

The mark lit up—brighter than ever.

And then it happened.

A voice. His voice. But deeper. Older. Like it had been buried for centuries.

“Blood remembers. Blood reclaims.”

Ezra dropped to his knees.

Visions slammed into him—blinding, raw. Wolves in cloaks of fire. A forest burning. Betrayal. A pack with no name, hunted to extinction.

And Raen. Younger. Crying at a ruined altar. A voice whispering: You are the last. Until he returns.

Ezra saw himself—not the him standing here—but then. Surrounded by wolves with eyes like his. Bound by fire. One reached out, whispering:

“Come back to us, Ezra. The mark is the path. You are the key.”

He screamed.

---

Kael found him hours later, collapsed in the snow, eyes still faintly glowing.

“Ezra!” Kael dropped to his knees, pulling him up. “Hey—hey, I’ve got you. Stay with me.”

Ezra blinked, vision swimming. “I saw it… saw everything.”

“What did you see?”

Ezra’s voice cracked. “I think Raen was right. I think I belonged to something before I was even me.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re here. With me.”

Ezra nodded slowly. “Yeah. But… my blood’s not done with me.”

As Kael helped him up, the mark flared again—hot, bright, alive—and in Ezra’s head came one last whisper.

“The moon rises. The vow wakes.”

---

Ezra’s visions reveal a deeper truth—he’s tied not just to Raen, but to a forgotten bloodline that’s waking inside him. As the full moon nears, the mark pulses with ancient power, dragging him toward a vow made lifetimes ago. But what will it demand this time—and will Kael survive what comes next?