Chapter Six
The trees whispered warnings as they walked.
Selene kept close to Ronan's side, her steps guided more by instinct than sight. The Shadow Fang woods were thicker here, untouched by any path. Branches clawed at her arms, and the moon above was little more than a smudge behind clouds.
Caelan led them in silence, his jaw tense, his sharp gray eyes constantly scanning the undergrowth. The only sound was the wind threading through the trees—and the persistent, rhythmic beat of her pendant pulsing against her chest.
They reached the mouth of the tunnel just past the old temple ruins—stone steps descending into darkness, half-swallowed by moss and time.
It reeked of memory. And blood.
Ronan stood beside her, his broad shoulders tight beneath his coat, his face carved in unreadable stone. Even now, with everything they'd seen, he hadn't shifted into his wolf. Selene could feel it in him though—a feral tension just under his skin. Like his beast didn't trust this place either.
"We shouldn't go down there," Caelan muttered. "There are old things that guard these ruins. Things even purebloods don't speak of."
Selene met his gaze. "If this prophecy is real… if Ronan's brother is alive… then we don't have a choice."
She took the first step.
The air changed instantly—heavier, damp with centuries of secrets. Shadows curled along the walls like living things. The deeper they descended, the colder it became. And with every step, the pulsing in her pendant grew stronger. Sharper. Like a tether pulling her forward.
When they reached the bottom, torchlight flickered to life along the walls—without flame.
"Ronan," she whispered. "Did you—?"
He shook his head. "Not me."
A low sound echoed through the hall. Not quite a growl. Not quite a voice.
Welcome, moon-born.
The stone beneath her feet shimmered with ancient markings. Runes that lit as she stepped on them, one after another.
Then—
A flash.
She staggered back, eyes wide as a memory not her own slammed into her vision.
Flashback
Blood. Fire. Screams echoed through the halls.
Two wolves circled each other—one dark as obsidian, the other silver with glowing eyes. One bore the mark of a royal house long lost, and the other bled shadows with every strike.
"I loved you," the silver wolf howled, voice breaking. "But you let the curse claim us both."
The obsidian wolf shifted—revealing a man with crimson eyes and a cruel smile.
"It was never about love," he said. "It was about survival."
Lightning cracked across the ceiling. And then, she saw herself—younger, frightened, hiding behind a pillar with a pendant clutched to her chest.
Watching them both fall.
Selene gasped and fell to her knees. Her fingers gripped the stone floor as the vision slipped from her mind, but the emotion stayed lodged deep in her bones.
Ronan knelt beside her. "What did you see?"
She looked at him, voice trembling. "You were there. But not you. And me. Watching you both kill each other."
His eyes darkened. "A past life?"
"I don't know. But I felt it. That war—it's happened before."
A low rumble vibrated through the tunnel. Caelan turned sharply, fangs bared. "We're not alone."
From the shadows ahead, something stirred.
Then stepped forward.
A guardian—twice the height of a man, wrapped in black fur and bone-plated armor. Eyes like molten silver. Not a werewolf. Not human.
Ancient.
"Selene of the cursed bloodline," it growled. "You have crossed the threshold. Speak your purpose."
Her voice didn't shake. "I'm looking for answers. For truth."
The creature stepped closer. "And if the truth breaks your heart? If it condemns the one you've come to love?"
Ronan stepped in front of her, baring his teeth. "She's not alone."
But the guardian ignored him. Its eyes never left Selene.
"You seek prophecy. But you are the prophecy."
The pendant at her neck burned hot against her skin.
"Then let me remember," she said. "Let me see what was taken."
The creature opened its massive palm—and inside, floating above a pool of black smoke was a shard of memory.
"Drink from it," the guardian commanded.
Selene reached out.
The moment her fingers touched the shard, her body lit up with white fire. Her heart seized—
And she was somewhere else again.
Not a battlefield.
Not a vision.
But a bedroom, carved in marble and moonlight. A boy—familiar—sat at the edge of a bed, eyes downcast.
Ronan? No. Not quite.
"You'll forget me tomorrow," the boy whispered. "But I'll remember every time."
From the doorway, a girl answered. Her voice. Younger. Broken.
"I would rather forget… than love someone I'm forbidden to have."
And then—
The first kiss.
A spark that would ignite centuries of war.
Selene's eyes flew open.
And now she knew.
She and Ronan weren't just bonded by fate.
They'd loved it before. In another life. In another war. Torn apart by the same curse they were now running from.
And it had all begun… with a kiss under a blood moon.
Selene staggered back, gasping.
The taste of the memory clung to her tongue—bittersweet and burning. Her fingertips trembled from where they'd touched the shard, and though the vision had passed, the feelings hadn't.
The ache in her chest.
The heat in her throat.
That kiss.
She wasn't sure if it had happened yesterday, or a hundred years ago. But she remembered it now, clear as if it had just happened under her skin.
Ronan stepped toward her, worry lining every inch of his face. "What did it show you?"
Selene opened her mouth. Closed it. She could still feel his lips on hers—but not from now. From a time neither of them were supposed to remember.
"I saw us," she whispered.
He froze.
"In another life… in a room of marble. I think it was before everything went to hell. You told me I'd forget, and I—" her throat caught, "—I said I'd rather forget than love someone I wasn't allowed to have."
Ronan's jaw tightened, his fists curling.
Selene looked up at him. "Ronan… we've done this before, haven't we?"
He didn't answer at first.
The guardian behind them watched, silent, ancient eyes flicking between the two of them like it was measuring the weight of their words against centuries of fate.
Finally, Ronan exhaled. "I've had fragments. Nightmares. Echoes of someone who looked like you." His voice dropped. "But I thought they were just dreams. Until now."
Selene's heartbeat pounded like thunder in her ears. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because they never ended well," he said flatly. "Every vision—every life—one of us died. Sometimes both."
The cave suddenly felt smaller. The walls are closer. Selene's pendant burned against her collarbone, and now it felt like a brand.
"I don't know what's real anymore," she whispered.
"This is," Ronan said, stepping closer. His voice was low but rough like he was holding himself back. "This moment. You. Me. What we do now, this is real."
Caelan shifted behind them, his tone clipped. "This is touching and all, but we just triggered a memory shard tied to a prophecy older than the packs. That thing"—he motioned to the guardian—"is probably not the only one awake now."
He was right.
The air changed again.
The ground beneath their feet vibrated—this time, not from memory, but from something waking up.
The guardian turned toward the tunnel ahead. "You've disturbed the seal."
Selene's blood chilled. "What seal?"
"The one keeping the lost king buried in silence."
Caelan muttered, "Oh good. Because that's never a bad sentence."
The ground shook harder—dust falling from the ceiling. Selene braced herself against the wall as a roar echoed through the tunnel. Not just sound—power. Raw, vicious.
Ronan's eyes flashed gold. "We need to get out. Now."
But the tunnel behind them collapsed before they could move. Stone and dust sealed them in.
Selene stared at the now-blocked exit, heart racing. "This was a trap."
The guardian nodded slowly. "You were always meant to come back."
"Why?" she demanded. "Why now?"
Its voice rumbled with finality.
"Because the blood moon rises in seven days. And with it, the king returns. To claim his bride."
The silence was suffocating.
Ronan's voice turned lethal. "He'll have to go through me."
The Guardian gave a cruel smile. "He already did. Once."
Selene turned to Ronan, eyes wide. "What does it mean?"
But he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was staring ahead—through the stone—at something none of them could yet see.
"My brother's not trying to wake the king," Ronan said quietly. "He is the king."
The air snapped like lightning.
Selene whispered, "The cursed bloodline…"
"Didn't start with you," Caelan said grimly. "It started with him."
The pendant at her throat pulsed—fast, desperate, a warning wrapped in heat.
And somewhere in the tunnels ahead, something answered.
A second pulse.
A second pendant.
Calling to hers.
Selene touched the charm over her chest—and in that instant, a whisper slid into her thoughts.
We loved once, little wolf. But you chose the wrong brother. Let's see if you make the same mistake twice.