The morning air in Lycanthra was colder than usual, heavy with the faint tang of iron and smoke. Isabella stood by her chamber window as the sound of carriage wheels echoed through the courtyard below.
Her heart sank. The crimson and gold crest of House Reon fluttered against the gray dawn.
Her father had come.
King Darius Reon entered the Citadel with the quiet dominance of a man who carried both authority and danger. The wolves bowed as he passed — not in reverence, but in wary respect. When his gaze met Isabella's, the cold edge in his eyes softened just enough to remind her of the father he once was.
"My daughter," he said, voice smooth and deliberate. "Lycanthra treats you well, I hope."
"It has been... tolerable," Isabella replied carefully.
He smiled faintly, brushing a gloved hand against her cheek. "You've grown into your place here. But remember, you are still Reon blood. Never forget which throne you truly serve."
The touch sent a tremor through her. His skin felt unnaturally cold. Beneath the glove, she sensed something wrong — a strange pulse, faint but heavy with sickness.
"Father," she whispered, stepping back, "you don't look well."
"It is nothing," he dismissed softly. "Theralis has been... unsettled since the outbreak. Some of our people still bear the remnants of the old curse. But worry not, my dear — your king will not fall so easily."
He smiled again, but there was something behind it — a faint glimmer of crimson in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
When he left, the scent of ash and decay lingered long after his footsteps faded. Isabella pressed her hand to her chest, her pulse unsteady. A burning ache spread through her veins like fire under ice.
She didn't yet know that the Blood Plague had come to Lycanthra — and that her father had carried it from Theralis in his blood.
The First Signs
By nightfall, Isabella's skin burned with fever. Her breaths grew shallow, and shadows danced at the edge of her vision. Still, she smiled when her maids brought supper, pretending all was well.
But when the castle fell silent, she slipped from her chambers, cloak wrapped tightly around her trembling form.
The corridors stretched endlessly — stone and shadow, the heartbeat of the Citadel echoing faintly around her. She made her way to the healers' ward, hidden beneath the eastern tower. The room smelled of wolfsbane, bloodroot, and ash.
The elder healer looked up, startled to see her. "Your Majesty… you shouldn't be here."
"I need you to check something," Isabella said, voice faint but firm.
When the healer pricked her finger and let a drop of blood fall into a silver basin, the liquid rippled, turning dark — from red to black.
The healer's face went pale. "This is... impossible."
"What is it?" Isabella asked, though she already feared the answer.
"The Blood Plague," the woman whispered. "It has not been seen since the fall of Theralis. That kingdom was the last to bear its mark."
A chill ran down Isabella's spine. "My father... he came from Theralis before arriving here."
The healer's gaze softened with pity. "Then it was passed to you by blood contact. The curse runs through royal veins. It cannot be cured — only delayed."
"Try wolfsbane," Isabella said.
The healer obeyed, applying the greenish tincture across Isabella's wrist. It hissed and smoked, the air filling with the sharp scent of burning herbs. Isabella gasped as the veins beneath her skin darkened instead of clearing.
The healer's hands trembled. "It rejects the cure. The plague does not answer to wolfsbane — it was never born of the wolf."
Isabella steadied herself, forcing the pain behind her voice. "No one must know. Not even the Alpha King."
The woman hesitated. "If the plague spreads—"
"It won't," Isabella said sharply. "It dies with me."
The Bond's Pain
Far across the Citadel, Ryan froze mid-step. A sudden, burning ache spread through his chest. It wasn't his own.
"Your Majesty?" one of his guards asked as he stumbled slightly.
Ryan waved him away, breath ragged. His wolf stirred, pacing restlessly inside his mind."She's suffering," it growled. "You feel it. The bond is crying out."
Ryan gritted his teeth. "Stay quiet."
"Her blood burns," the wolf snarled. "The sickness eats her alive, and still you stand here pretending you don't care."
"She's nothing to me," Ryan snapped, voice echoing in the empty hall.
The wolf's tone turned mocking. "If she were nothing, you wouldn't be shaking."
Ryan clenched his fists, veins pulsing with restrained fury. "I said, she's nothing."
But the bond throbbed with every heartbeat — her pain echoing in his bones. His wolf only laughed, dark and knowing.
"You can lie, Alpha. But the bond does not."
Ryan's claws tore faint cracks into the stone wall as he turned away, each step heavier than the last.
The Book of the Eclipse Pact
By dawn, Isabella's fever dulled to a slow, aching heat. The healers' words echoed in her mind — The plague of Theralis... the curse of royal blood.
She could not let it consume her without understanding why.
The Citadel's library waited like a tomb of forgotten truths. Dust floated in the golden light as she walked between endless shelves until a crimson-bound tome drew her attention.
Its title gleamed faintly in silver script:The Book of the Eclipse Pact.
She laid it upon the table and opened to a marked page bearing the ancient sigil of a bleeding moon and a fractured sun. The words were inked in fading black — written centuries before her birth.
"When the moon bleeds and the sun hides its light, the curse shall awaken through the Blood and the Fang.From royal veins shall rise the sickness of Theralis — the Plague that binds the cursed to the chosen.One shall die for the other, and in their suffering the Eclipse shall break.Only when the Alpha King's heart bleeds for the dying shall the night be undone."
Her hands shook as she traced the final line.The Blood and the Fang — the vampire and the wolf.
The Plague of Theralis. The prophecy. The bond.
It all connected.
Her chest tightened painfully. A cough tore through her throat, and blood spilled across the ancient page. She wiped it quickly, swallowing the taste of iron.
"No one can know," she whispered, clutching the book to her chest. "Not yet."
As she turned to leave, the bond pulsed faintly in her chest — slow, deep, and distant. And somewhere beyond the halls, Ryan Reon froze once more, his golden eyes flickering in the dark.
His wolf's voice whispered through the silence:"You can deny her, Alpha… but her heartbeat already owns yours."