The night after the ritual was unnervingly still. The air around the Citadel seemed to hum with something unseen — not danger, but a shift.Power had changed hands.
Isabella slept beneath silken sheets, her fever broken. The black veins that once marred her skin had vanished, leaving only a faint silver shimmer beneath her flesh — a mark that pulsed softly in time with another heartbeat.
Far above her, Ryan stood by the window in his chambers, his palm still wrapped in linen. The wound should have closed hours ago, but it hadn't. His blood — the same blood that had saved her — refused to heal.
When Elder Maeron entered, the air seemed to tighten. He bowed low before speaking.
"The Blood Plague has been purged," he said. "But the Codex warned of a price."
Ryan didn't turn. "I know. What is it?"
The elder hesitated, studying the faint silver light flickering under the King's skin. "The bond. It has… changed."
Ryan finally faced him, his eyes sharp. "Changed how?"
"The blood you gave her did not only cure her," Maeron said. "It strengthened what already existed. The bond between you has grown — beyond anything I have seen. Your hearts, your strength, even your emotions now move as one."
Ryan's voice hardened. "You mean I'm chained to her."
Maeron's gaze was grave. "No, my King. You are becoming her."
The Growing Bond
Isabella woke with a start, gasping as cold air filled her lungs. The world looked different — sharper, almost alive. She could hear things she shouldn't: the distant heartbeat of soldiers training in the yard, the low growl of a wolf beyond the walls. And beneath it all, she felt him.
Ryan.
Every emotion he tried to suppress — the anger, the exhaustion, the hollow ache — thrummed through her veins like whispers in her blood.
She clutched her chest, trembling. "Ryan…"
The healer beside her leaned forward. "Your Majesty? Are you unwell?"
"No," Isabella murmured, forcing calm into her voice. "Just… connected."
When she touched her wrist, she noticed it — a faint silver pattern running along her veins, the same that now burned beneath the King's skin.
The bond wasn't fading. It was evolving.
When the blood of the Alpha King meets the cursed vein,the Moon shall bind what fate cannot sever.
The line from the prophecy echoed in her mind. Whatever the Blood Plague had done, it hadn't just linked them — it had fused them.
The Pull
Ryan had felt restless all morning. His wolf prowled at the edges of his mind, its unease growing with every hour.
"You can feel her again, can't you?" the wolf teased.
Ryan growled. "It's different now."
"Because you're fighting it."
The bond pulsed again, stronger this time. He could feel her — not just her presence, but her heartbeat, her thoughts brushing faintly against his own. For a fleeting moment, he saw her reflection in his mind: Isabella standing by the window, sunlight on her face, her lips parting as she whispered his name.
He froze.
"No," he muttered under his breath. "I won't let this happen."
The wolf laughed softly. "You already did. The moment your blood touched hers."
Ryan's claws extended involuntarily, his control slipping. The bond tugged harder, demanding acknowledgment, and for one dangerous second, he nearly gave in.
The Visit
When Ryan entered her chamber later that day, the healers bowed quickly and retreated. Isabella turned to face him, calm but wary.
"You shouldn't be out of bed," he said curtly.
"You shouldn't still be pretending you don't feel it," she replied softly.
His jaw tightened. "Feel what?"
"This." She took a step closer. "The bond. It's not the same anymore. It's stronger. I can hear your heart even when you're not near."
Ryan's expression darkened, but he didn't deny it.
"The Elders say it's the price of your blood," she continued. "You saved me, and the bond deepened. It's like our souls are no longer separate."
"Then we've both been cursed," he said coldly.
"Or chosen," she countered.
For a moment, their eyes locked — predator and prey, moon and blood. The air between them seemed to vibrate with something unspoken, ancient, and inevitable.
Ryan turned away sharply, breaking the tension. "Don't mistake survival for fate."
But Isabella only smiled faintly. "You can deny me all you want, Ryan. But the bond won't."
He paused at the doorway, his voice low. "Then the bond will learn silence."
Yet when he left, the pulse between them only grew stronger.
The Price of Blood
That night, neither of them slept.
Ryan lay in his chambers, sweat slicking his skin as waves of heat and emotion rolled through the bond — not his own, but hers. Every breath she took, every tremor of her heart, echoed in him like a mirror.
And across the Citadel, Isabella sat awake in the dark, her pulse thrumming to the same rhythm.
They were no longer two lives connected by a thread.They were one flame split in half — burning brighter, fiercer, unstoppable.
The Blood Plague had been cured, but its cure had unleashed something far more powerful:
A bond the moon itself could not break.
"When blood binds blood, the heart shall not belong to one.The King and the Cursed shall rise as one soul beneath the Blood Moon."
And as the moon climbed high above Lycanthra, both of them felt it — the prophecy stirring awake within their veins.