Selene Raventhorn sat atop the high balcony of her tower chamber, the ancient wind threading through her midnight hair like invisible fingers. Below, the kingdom of Umbrafell slept under a shroud of silver moonlight, unaware of the turmoil brewing within its ruling bloodline. Her fingers traced the moonstone locket at her throat—an heirloom, yes, but also a prison key.
Alpha Darius Stormbane had not come to see her since their last encounter in the Temple of Eternities. His absence gnawed at her, more painful than any curse. It wasn't the kind of silence that followed anger—it was the kind that foretold storm. And she could feel it in her bones: the ancient forces were stirring.
"He dreams of me," Selene whispered, clutching the edge of the balcony. "But he cannot remember."
Across the palace, in the Alpha's war chamber, Darius poured over the map of neighboring kingdoms. His advisors droned on about war, territory, and alliances, but his mind wandered—toward a feeling. A scent. Moonlight and lavender. And pain.
"Stormbane?" General Harkan interrupted, eyeing the Alpha carefully. "Shall we proceed with the border patrols?"
Darius nodded but didn't speak. His claws itched beneath his skin. That cursed name again—Selene. It haunted his sleep, not as a threat, but as a loss he couldn't quite name.
In truth, they had been bound before time itself. Before the stars learned to blink, before gods had names. An ancient promise had linked their souls—one born of fire and blood. One destined to repeat for all of eternity.
In the hidden crypts of the Temple of Fates, High Priestess Myrrha lit the incense sticks that summoned the Book of Threads. The tome floated, old pages fluttering like wings. Her glassy eyes turned white as she chanted in tongues long dead.
"The bond is awakening. The oath must be completed... or broken," she murmured.
Back in her chamber, Selene could feel her heart constricting, the pain almost unbearable. Her bond mark—it shimmered along her collarbone, the shape of a crescent moon encircled by a burning flame. It pulsed as though alive.
A knock at the door made her jump.
It was Elira, her lady-in-waiting and only true confidante.
"My lady," Elira said, breathless, "the moon witches of Aether Hollow are here. They bear a message."
Selene stood, instinct driving her to wrap herself in her silver cloak. "Bring them in."
Three witches entered the room, dressed in twilight robes stitched with constellations. The tallest one, her eyes glowing faintly, stepped forward.
"Selene Raventhorn, Moonborne, and Chosen of the Timeless Flame..." the witch said, bowing her head. "You are running out of time."
Selene's breath hitched. "Then speak quickly."
"The threads are unraveling. The Alpha's memory is fraying faster than expected. The ancient curse has evolved. Now, your life is bound not only to his soul... but to his memory of you. If he forgets you completely, your essence will fade from existence."
The words hit like a blade to the chest. Selene clenched her fists, steadying herself.
"What must I do?"
The second witch spoke. "You must awaken the Moonstone Altar. The one buried in the Caverns of Howlveil. There, you must reignite the Oath Flame with your blood and his. Only then can you preserve what remains."
"But... he no longer trusts me," Selene said bitterly. "He looks at me like a stranger."
"Then you must make him remember," the third witch said. "Even if it breaks you."
---
Darius stalked the inner gardens that night, unable to rest. The scent of lavender haunted him again. He stopped by the old marble bench, his fingers brushing the moss-covered stone.
"You used to bring me moonberries here..." he muttered to no one.
He growled at himself. "Why do I keep seeing her? Why do I feel like I've already lost her, even though I barely know her?"
Behind the shadows, Myrrha watched. She saw the flicker of recognition—the faint glint of soul memory peeking through the fog. The fates were tipping again.
In his sleep, that night, Darius dreamed.
Selene stood beneath the Blood Moon, her eyes filled with sorrow. She bled from her palms, her hands outstretched toward him.
"You promised me forever. Even if it kills me again, Himamotsu, I will love you."
Darius jolted upright, sweat soaking his sheets.
Himamotsu? That name—why did it tear at his heart like that?
He rose, dressing in haste, and stormed out of his quarters. He needed answers. He needed to see her.
Selene was in the tower library, tracing the ancient scrolls by candlelight when the doors slammed open.
Darius stood there, chest heaving, his eyes dark and feral.
"What have you done to me?" he barked.
Selene stood, heart thudding. "You remember."
He stalked toward her, fury and confusion clouding his aura. "I don't know what this is, but I see you in my sleep. I feel you in my bones. And I hate how empty I feel when I wake up without you beside me."
"Because we were never meant to be apart," she whispered.
"Liar! You've cursed me, haven't you? Twisted my mind—"
Selene reached out, pressing her palm to his chest. "Feel it. You know the truth."
He froze. A jolt of lightning shot through him, not of pain, but of memory—flashes of a thousand lives. Dancing under moons. Holding her as she wept. Dying with her name on his lips.
He staggered back. "No... this isn't real. This can't be real."
Selene's eyes welled with tears. "It is. And if you don't remember fully soon, I will fade from your world. Forever."
Darius's hand shook as he reached for her.
"Then I'll break every curse, every law of time... if it means keeping you."
But from the shadows, Myrrha whispered one final warning to the wind:
"The bond is awakening... but the gods are watching. And they do not forgive stolen eternities."