I. When the Moon Burned Red
The Blood Moon hung swollen and low, bleeding over the spires of Reon Palace.Smoke swallowed the night; the capital roared like a wounded beast. Bells clanged from every tower, their cries twisting with the sound of splintering wood, shattering glass, and the echo of war songs rising from the streets.
Theralis was no longer a city—it was a crucible.And in its heart, the throne trembled.
Ryan strode through the western gates, his armor scorched and smeared with ash. The courtyard was chaos: soldiers clashing with rebels, banners torn, torches thrown against marble walls. His wolf snarled beneath his skin, a wild pulse of fury and instinct, urging him to give in—to kill, to burn, to silence every traitor.
Not yet, he forced through gritted teeth. Not yet.
The scent of blood and smoke filled his lungs. He had learned to command fear, to twist it into resolve—but tonight, something in the air felt older than rebellion. It felt like prophecy.
He turned as the palace doors burst open behind him.
Isabella emerged, cloak billowing like a shadow, her crown gone, her eyes fierce with determination. In her arms she carried The Book of the Eclipse Pact, bound in iron clasps that glimmered faintly under the moonlight.
"You shouldn't be here," Ryan barked.
"I could say the same to you," she shot back. "But the kingdom doesn't need two ghosts—it needs its rulers."
Before he could reply, an explosion ripped through the eastern courtyard. The shockwave hurled them both to the ground. When the smoke cleared, the eastern wall had collapsed—rebels were pouring through the breach.
"Damn it," Ryan growled. "They've breached the inner ring."
"Then we hold the keep," Isabella said, rising to her feet. "Together."
He hesitated for a fraction of a second—then nodded. "Stay close."
II. The Siege Within
The corridors of the palace became a labyrinth of war.The tapestries that once celebrated peace now burned; the marble floors ran slick with ash and blood. Isabella moved beside Ryan, her heart hammering as the bond between them thrummed like a war drum—half rage, half recognition.
Every time he swung his blade, she saw the wolf behind his eyes. Every time she chanted an incantation from the Eclipse Book, he saw the power that frightened even the Elders.
They fought not as lovers nor as enemies—but as two forces of nature bound to the same storm.
Ryan's sword flashed in the dim light, cutting through two rebel soldiers. "Fall back to the grand stairwell!" he ordered.
Isabella followed, whispering the old tongue under her breath. The runes from the book glowed faintly in her hands. She pressed her palm to the wall; a ripple of violet light spread outward, forming a shimmering barrier that sealed the passage behind them.
Ryan stopped, glancing at her. "You can still wield the old magic?"
"Barely," she said through labored breath. "But it answers me now."
His gaze lingered on her, a flicker of something soft buried beneath the ash and fury.Then the moment shattered—another tremor shook the palace.
From above came the deep tolling of the bell tower. The rebels had reached the northern spire.
"Go," she said. "I'll hold this hall."
"I'm not leaving you—"
"You swore to protect this crown," she snapped. "That includes the people who still believe in it. Go, Ryan."
The wolf inside him growled, torn between rage and duty. But her tone—steady, commanding, regal—left no room for argument. He turned and sprinted up the stairwell, disappearing into the smoke.
Isabella turned back to the hall, her fingers trembling as she opened The Book of the Eclipse Pact once more.
III. The Forgotten Spell
The pages pulsed faintly under her touch. The script moved like veins beneath skin, ancient words whispering back to her:
When blood and bond stand at war, let the veil part, and truth awaken from flame.
She understood now. The book wasn't just a prophecy—it was a weapon forged through centuries of deception. Every ruler had been bound by its half-truths, but none had dared to read beyond the words written in ink.
Until her.
She placed her hand over the seal drawn on the marble floor—the one her mother had once forbidden her to touch—and began to speak.
"By moon and marrow, by bond and bane—Let the shadow remember its name."
A low hum filled the corridor. The air warped. The dying flames twisted into shapes—ghostly figures of past rulers, their faces flickering in the firelight.
"Protect the bloodline," they whispered."Or destroy it."
She recoiled. "No. I will free it."
The phantoms screamed as the seal burst into light. The barrier shattered, releasing a surge of power that rippled through the entire palace.
Far above, Ryan staggered as the energy struck him like a wave. The wolf within him roared. For a heartbeat, his vision went white—and in that blinding moment, he saw what she had unleashed.
The bond between them flared open.
He saw her memories—her father's death, the Elders rewriting the prophecy, her nights alone in the library, trembling as she read forbidden words. He saw her fear, her strength, her defiance.
And she saw his—his silent vows, the weight of the crown, his hatred born not of contempt but of guilt.
The connection burned like fire and mercy at once.
IV. The Wolf and the Flame
Ryan burst back into the lower hall. The rebels were retreating—their torches dimming, their eyes wide with fear. The air was alive with magic; the very stones hummed beneath his boots.
At the far end of the corridor, Isabella stood in a circle of light, the book open before her, the seal glowing underfoot. Her eyes were no longer only human—they reflected the Blood Moon itself.
"Isabella!" he shouted.
She looked up, voice echoing with the remnants of the spell. "It's not over. The Elders—this was their design all along. The rebellion, the plague—it's all part of their plan to reclaim the throne through chaos!"
He approached slowly, sword lowered. "Then we end their plan here."
She met his gaze, and for once, there was no venom in her tone—only resolve. "Together?"
He hesitated… then nodded. "Together."
As their hands met, the bond flared once more, binding light and shadow. The moon above them pulsed crimson, and the palace trembled, the flames bending away from where they stood—as if recognizing their unity.
V. Beneath the Ashes
By dawn, the battle had ended.
The eastern rebels had fallen back beyond the gates. The council's banners still hung, but the Elders themselves were gone—vanished into the night with their guards and relics.
Ryan and Isabella stood in the ruins of the throne hall. The great window behind the dais had shattered, spilling red morning light across the marble. The air smelled of smoke and iron.
The silence between them was no longer cold—it was heavy, fragile, human.
Isabella closed The Book of the Eclipse Pact and placed it on the throne. "The Elders will strike again," she said quietly. "They won't stop until they control everything."
Ryan stared at the cracked sigil of the crown engraved on the floor. "Then we strike first."
He looked at her, eyes hard but no longer cruel. "No more lies between us. No more silence."
She nodded slowly. "Then no more chains."
Their bond pulsed once—softly, steady. Not love. Not yet.But something had begun to shift beneath the ashes.
Outside, the first rays of dawn broke through the smoke, painting the ruined kingdom in light. The Blood Moon was finally fading.
Theralis lived—barely.But for the first time, it breathed free.