Kael's POV
I used to think the curse was my punishment.
That exile, shame, and the loss of everything I'd ever loved was the price I paid for being born into a bloodline feared more than it was honored.
But now I know the truth.
The curse wasn't punishment.
It was a distraction.
A veil cast over generations of wolves to hide what was really festering beneath the surface—an ancient war. A throne corrupted. And the woman who pulled every thread from the shadows while the rest of us bled.
The Moon Queen.
And now she wanted Sophie.
Not to kill her.
But to claim her.
That thought was more terrifying than anything the Hollow Wolf had whispered into the trees.
Because it meant we were already running out of time.
The dream she'd had—she hadn't told me every detail, but I'd seen the terror in her eyes when she woke. Her skin was clammy, and she clutched her head like something had crawled inside it and refused to leave.
"I saw her," she whispered. "She said I belong to her."
It had taken everything in me not to snap every branch off the tree beside us. Not to tear through the woods like a feral beast.
Because if the Moon Queen had already entered her mind, she'd crossed a line that hadn't been crossed in centuries.
A mental bond—especially with someone who hadn't fully completed the soul-binding—was rare. Dangerous. Forbidden.
And yet she'd done it like it was nothing.
Which meant Sophie was more important than any of us realized.
More powerful. More vulnerable.
We traveled through the Ridge of Hollow Roots, a steep trail carved between cliffs and old burial lands. Wind howled through the crevices, carrying with it whispers of wolves long buried—some mine, some hers.
Sophie walked beside me, quiet but alert. She hadn't let go of my hand once since we left camp.
I could feel the change in her.
The Rite of Flame had carved away her doubt, but it had replaced it with something else: weight.
She carried the prophecy now.
Like a crown she hadn't asked for.
And all I could do was watch as it pressed deeper into her shoulders. I hated it.
I hated that I couldn't lift it for her.
But I could shield her from the storm it would draw.
We reached a ridge by noon, where the land opened into a valley of shifting stone and scattered bone. I recognized it immediately.
"The Gravepath," I said.
Sophie looked at me. "What is it?"
"A place where warriors lost to the curse were laid to rest."
"And we're walking into it?"
"Yes. Because if we don't… the Queen will find another way in."
I crouched beside a half-buried wolf skull, my fingers brushing the ancient symbols carved into the bone.
"We need the Blessing of the Forgotten," I said. "Their blood remembers."
Sophie knelt beside me. "And what happens if they don't give it?"
I met her eyes. "Then they'll drag me into the earth and tear me apart."
She went still. "You didn't tell me that part."
"I didn't want to scare you."
"I walked through fire, Kael," she said, her voice shaking. "You don't get to protect me from the truth anymore."
I smiled faintly. "Noted."
I shifted.
The wolf in me rose like a storm barely contained.
My bones stretched and broke, fur slicing through flesh, claws digging into the dirt. I stood taller, stronger, colder. My form—my true form—reflected what I was born to be.
A cursed heir. A Moonbound Alpha.
The ground beneath me began to glow. The circle of stones lit with silver flame. And then the wind stopped. Dead still. As if the forest itself were holding its breath. One by one, they rose. Wolves made of bone and ash.
Ghosts.
Ancestral warriors who had once bled for the same kingdom I was born to inherit and damn.
The leader stepped forward—a she-wolf, taller than me, with broken antlers curling from her skull like a crown.
She looked into my eyes and spoke in a voice like thunder:
"You dare bring her here?"
Sophie didn't flinch. But i did.
"She passed the Flame," I growled in wolf-tongue. "She carries the mark."
"She carries the ruin!" the spirit snapped. "You bring the fire into sacred soil."
"She is the only reason the curse hasn't consumed me," I said. "She is the key."
The ghosts circled. Sophie stepped closer to me, her fingers brushing my fur. Not in fear—but in unity.
"She is no longer outsider," I declared. "She is pack."
There was silence.
Then the she-wolf tilted her head. "Prove it."
The earth split. Not wide, but enough.
A single dagger rose from the dirt—silver, etched in runes, glowing faintly red.
Blood-forged, Soul-bound and The Trial of Claim.
If I took it, I had to mark Sophie before moonrise.
Bind her fully.
Not just as mate. But as queen.
It was the highest honor a wolf could give.
But also the most dangerous.
If her soul rejected mine, it wouldn't just break the bond.
It would kill us both. I looked at her.
She didn't know all the rules yet. Didn't understand the depth of what this meant.
But her eyes burned, No fear, Only fire.
"You don't have to do this," I said, shifting halfway back to speak.
"I want to," she said, without pause. "Even if it changes you?"
"I'm already changing." I looked at the ghosts.
Then the dagger, then her, and I picked it up.
The moment my fingers closed around the hilt, the wind howled through the gravepath.
The wolves bowed.
The spirits vanished. And the earth settled again.
Sophie stood before me, Still human, Still flame and Still mine.
And with the mark of the Trial of Claim between us, there was no turning back.
By the next moonrise, she would be bound to me forever.
Or buried beside me in the cursed soil.