The frost lingered through the following day, creeping across the marsh paths like a living thing. Villagers moved through the square with hurried steps, whispering about the night's events. Soldiers had doubled their patrols; Dren's voice could be heard barking orders from the western gate, commanding more barricades, more spears, more fire.
But none of that reached the shrine's inner sanctum. Inside the stone circle, the world seemed held in a breath. Liora stood barefoot before the altar, fingers pressed to the ancient carvings, feeling their pulse beneath her skin. Corren watched from a few paces away, his usual calm cracked with unease. Maren hovered at the edge of the chamber, wrapped in a rough wool cloak, her eyes half-shadowed.
The Beast lay near the back of the shrine, curled like a guardian statue. Its eyes were half-lidded, but alert, every breath visible in the cold air. The bond between Liora and the creature thrummed like a taut string, responsive to every flicker of her heartbeat.
Maren finally spoke. "The Circle responds best at dusk. We have until nightfall to prepare. Once the Shadows rise again, if the bond is not strengthened, it may break under the pressure."
Liora nodded. "Tell me what to do."
"You don't simply do," Maren said, stepping closer. "You must accept. The Circle is not forged by rituals alone—it's forged by will. By merging your life with the Beast's. It will test you. Show you what it is. What you are."
Corren took a half-step forward. "And if it kills her in the process?"
"Then the Circle will choose another," Maren answered, unflinching.
The words hung like a blade. Liora exhaled slowly, steadying herself. She'd faced the Shades, defied Dren, and felt the bond's raw pulse through her veins. But this was different. This wasn't defense. This was surrender.
As the sun began its descent, the shrine was sealed. Maren traced wards in ash and salt along the threshold; Corren barred the outer doors, positioning himself as guard and witness. Only Liora and the Beast remained within the Circle itself.
Liora knelt opposite the creature. It raised its great antlered head, eyes glowing faintly in the fading light. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then she extended her hand.
The Beast mirrored her. Its massive paw pressed to the earth between them, claws retracting until only the pads met the stone. The bond pulsed—once, twice—then surged.
The air thickened. The walls of the shrine seemed to dissolve.
Suddenly, Liora was not kneeling on stone but standing in a vast expanse of forest at twilight. Trees stretched upward like columns, their branches weaving a canopy of shifting light. The Beast stood before her, larger than life, eyes burning gold.
Do you accept the Circle's burden?
The question was not spoken aloud. It bloomed inside her head, resonating with the rhythm of her own heartbeat.
"Yes," she whispered.
Then you must know what it means to carry me.
The forest dissolved.
She stood in a village she barely recognized. Houses blackened, fields drowned in marshwater. Shades prowled the streets like wolves. Above them, a colossal shape—part Beast, part woman—towered over the ruins. Its antlers cracked the sky. Its eyes were her own.
The villagers screamed her name. Some begged. Others cursed. All looked to her with terror.
Liora stumbled back, chest tightening. "No… this isn't real."
This is one path, the Beast's voice murmured inside her. Power without balance. A bond that consumes instead of protects.
The vision shifted again.
She was alone in the marsh, kneeling by the shrine. The Beast lay dying beside her, its breath shallow, eyes dimming. Shadows closed in like a tide. Her hands reached out but found nothing—no power, no bond, no Circle.
This is the other path.
Liora's heart pounded. "I don't want either," she breathed.
Then make another, the Beast said. If you would walk this road with me, you must forge it yourself.
The visions shattered like glass.
She returned to the shrine floor, gasping, slick with sweat despite the cold. The Beast loomed over her, eyes fierce. The Circle's carvings glowed faintly, lines of light tracing the floor around them.
Maren's voice filtered faintly from outside the Circle. "Liora! Hold fast!"
The Circle pulsed harder, pushing against her chest. Pain seared through her ribs, but she didn't pull back. She pressed her palm to the stone and locked eyes with the creature.
"I won't be consumed," she said through clenched teeth. "And I won't abandon you. We forge this bond together—equal."
The Beast's gaze shifted—curiosity, then something like approval. It lowered its massive head, touching its forehead to hers.
A shock of power surged through her. Not hostile, not devouring—just immense. It filled her veins like wildfire and ice, threading through her bones, stitching human and Beast together. Her breath caught as ancient whispers flooded her senses. The Circle beneath them blazed with light.
Outside, Corren shielded his eyes as a column of light burst from the shrine roof, shooting into the darkening sky. Villagers turned, some crossing themselves, others grabbing weapons in fear.
Dren arrived moments later, fury and fear mingling in his eyes. "What are they doing?" he barked. "Open the doors!"
Corren stepped between him and the shrine. "No one enters."
"You're obstructing command!" Dren spat. "That creature will tear her apart—"
"Or save us all," Corren cut in.
The soldiers hesitated. Dren's jaw clenched. But the light pulsing from the shrine made even the bravest step back.
Inside, the Circle reached its crescendo. Liora's vision swam with swirling patterns of marshlight and fire. She felt herself expand—her heartbeat syncing with the Beast's, her breath matching its rhythm.
For an instant, she was standing in two worlds: one human, one primal. She could sense the marsh in every root and reed, the approach of the Shades in the far distance, their hunger pressing against the boundaries like a storm tide.
And then—
Silence.
The glow dimmed. The Circle's carvings cooled, leaving faint embers in their wake. The Beast withdrew its forehead from hers, breathing slowly, steadily.
Liora collapsed to her knees, but not from weakness. From awe. The bond was no longer a thread. It was a river.
Maren rushed inside, eyes wide. She knelt beside Liora, placing a cautious hand on her shoulder. "It's done," she whispered. "The Circle accepted you."
Liora lifted her head. Her eyes glimmered faintly with golden light. "No," she said, voice steady. "We accepted each other."
Night fell fully. The Shades approached the boundary of the marsh again, but this time, when their formless shapes pressed against the Circle, a shockwave rippled through the air.
They recoiled, shrieking in the darkness.
The Circle held. Stronger than before.
For the first time in weeks, the village slept without immediate fear. But above the distant trees, deep within the marsh, something older stirred—something that had felt the surge and marked the new bond.
And it was coming.