The forest had changed.
Kale could feel it the moment he woke at dawn — the trees whispered differently, the air hummed louder, and even the sunlight filtering through the leaves seemed sharper. Every breath he took felt heavier, alive with mana.
He rubbed his temples, his head throbbing. His veins faintly glowed blue for a heartbeat before fading again.
"Still feeling it, aren't you?"
Elric's voice came from the edge of camp. He was sharpening a short blade, watching Kale with cautious eyes.
Kale nodded slowly. "It's… stronger than before. The Blood Oath changed something inside me."
Lyra, seated near the fire, didn't look up from her spellbook. "You fused two very different mana sources. Human essence and lunar essence aren't supposed to coexist. The fact you're even conscious means your core's adapting — or trying to."
Elric raised an eyebrow. "And what happens if it fails?"
Lyra's expression darkened. "It won't. Because I won't let it."
Kale smiled faintly at her stubbornness, but his chest still burned where the mark had spread. He could hear faint murmurs sometimes — just at the edge of thought. Too distant to make out. Too sharp to ignore.
By midday, the alliance began their march north, toward the ruins of Ardenvale — an abandoned village where witches once conducted mana extractions. Rumors said a Coven envoy was stationed there now.
The werewolves moved silently, their movements synchronized. Kale walked beside Ryn, the silver-haired lieutenant who'd brought them to Varyn.
Ryn sniffed the air. "The scent of the Coven's magic lingers here. They've been bleeding mana from the soil."
Kale frowned. "They're feeding something."
Before Ryn could reply, a scream tore through the trees.
The group spun. A werewolf scout stumbled into the clearing, his side slashed open with blackened burns — the mark of dark mana.
"Ambush," he gasped. "South ridge. Witches."
Then he collapsed.
Varyn's growl echoed through the air. "Everyone, form up!"
Kale stepped forward. "Let me handle the flank."
Lyra grabbed his arm. "You're not ready—"
But Kale was already gone, blue light flaring beneath his feet as he surged through the forest.
The battle erupted like wildfire.
Bolts of dark mana cut through the air, scorching trees and earth alike. The witches were cloaked in black, their eyes burning violet, their sigils pulsing with unholy rhythm.
Kale raised his hand, summoning his spectral blade. The runes along it shimmered — this time mixed with faint silver streaks from the Blood Oath.
The witches spotted him instantly. "The cursed one!" one hissed. "The boy from the human world!"
Kale's blade met their spells midair, scattering mana like shards of glass. His movements were sharper now — too sharp. Each swing left afterimages in the air, arcs of blue and silver flame.
He could feel the power inside him — roaring, hungry, eager. It whispered beneath his thoughts:
"They killed your kind. Burn them. Show them what a curse truly means."
Kale froze for a heartbeat. The voice wasn't his. It echoed inside his skull like a memory not his own.
Another witch fired a blast at him. Kale reacted without thinking — the mana in his veins surged outward, consuming the spell and reflecting it back. The witch screamed as it struck her, her body twisting in unnatural flame.
Lyra's voice shouted in the distance, "Kale, stop! That's not your magic!"
He didn't hear her.
His eyes burned blue-white now, his aura spiraling like a storm. He felt invincible — and yet hollow.
Then — a hand gripped his wrist.
"Kale," Ryn snarled. The werewolf's claws dug into his arm, grounding him. "You're losing control."
For a moment, Kale saw Ryn's face through the haze — the fear there. The recognition.
He gasped — and the power shattered outward in a wave, throwing everyone back. The light faded, and Kale collapsed to one knee, panting. His blade vanished into smoke.
The battlefield fell silent. The witches were gone — their retreat echoes fading into the trees.
Lyra ran to his side, kneeling. "Kale, talk to me. What did you hear?"
He looked up at her slowly. "A voice… beneath the flame. It said…"
He hesitated, the words cold on his tongue.
"It said my name. Like it already knew me."
Lyra's eyes widened. "Then it's starting."
Ryn frowned. "What's starting?"
Lyra looked up at both of them, her tone grim. "The curse of Aurelion isn't just power. It's consciousness. Kale's not just carrying his mana — he's carrying what's left of him."
Kale clenched his fists, trembling. "Then I'll fight it."
But even as he said it, he could feel the echo of laughter in his mind — faint and mocking.
"Fight me? You are me."