The mark still burned.
Alina staggered through the trees, one hand gripping the jagged bark of a dying elm, the other pressed against her chest. Beneath her collarbone, under layers of leather and sweat-soaked linen, something pulsed with unnatural heat—alive, crawling beneath her skin.
She'd been cursed.
The word rattled inside her skull like a blade against bone. She had trained for years—suffered, bled, buried her softness—to become Flamebound, a sworn hunter of witches. And yet tonight, under a mocking violet moon, she had hesitated. She had looked at the witch too long. Thought too much. Felt—
No. She wouldn't think about that.
The forest pressed close around her, branches like claws, shadows like breath. Every rustle sounded like laughter. Every whisper felt like Selene's voice.
You'll try. And then you'll beg.
Alina slammed a fist into a tree. Bark cracked. Her knuckles bled. She didn't care. Pain was real. Pain was clean.
Her sword was gone, lost somewhere in the clearing where Selene had vanished in a storm of cursed moonlight. The blade was imbued with sanctified silver, blessed by the Flamebound Elders. Without it, she was exposed.
Worse than that—she was changed.
She collapsed to her knees at the edge of a stream, the water running dark and silent. She yanked open her cloak, then her tunic, tearing cloth to reveal the cursed mark.
There it was—glowing faintly beneath her skin, like molten veins etched into her flesh. A spiral sigil, ancient and unmistakable.
"Shit," she whispered. Her voice cracked. "No no no..."
The Binding Curse.
A rare and forbidden spell. One that tethered the caster and the cursed together by essence, by soul.
She couldn't kill Selene now. Not without killing herself.
Selene leaned against the crooked spine of a willow tree, arms crossed, eyes closed. She had watched Alina stumble away from the clearing, bleeding and angry, a storm barely held together by skin and rage. She could still feel the sting of the slap—still taste the heat of Alina's fury.
It had thrilled her.
"Beautiful little monster," she murmured, smiling to herself.
The curse mark had taken root faster than expected. She hadn't planned to bind them—not yet. But something had snapped the moment Alina's palm struck her cheek. That brief, brutal touch had said more than any spell could.
She wanted to break the hunter. And maybe, deep down, she wanted to be broken too.
Selene raised her hand and traced her fingers through the air. A shimmer answered her call—an echo of the tether. She could feel Alina now, like a thread humming at the edge of her awareness. Afraid. Wounded. Angry. Still burning.
Perfect.
She turned and walked deeper into the Hollow, shadows parting around her like loyal pets. Her robes whispered secrets to the dark. Ghostlight flickered in her wake. The trees remembered her, the stones bowed to her. She was the cursed heir, the child of prophecy.
And now, she had a hunter bound to her soul.
Alina didn't sleep.
She sat in the hollow of a tree all night, bladeless and cold, clutching the hilt of a dagger too small to matter. The curse pulsed every few minutes, like a second heartbeat beneath her ribs.
She had to get back to the Order. They'd know what to do. Maybe. If they didn't execute her first.
She replayed the fight again and again. Her hesitation. The kiss of magic. The way Selene had smiled like she already knew what Alina would do.
Worse than the pain of the curse was the shame.
She hadn't just hesitated—she had wanted something. For one breathless moment, she had wanted Selene's mouth instead of her blood.
"No," she muttered, shaking herself. "This is the curse talking."
But was it?
The curse didn't make her remember the way Selene moved. Or how her voice dipped when she whispered. Or the way her magic had felt—hot, wild, and intimate, like a hand against bare skin.
Alina buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to kill her."
Even if it killed her back.
At dawn, the tether pulled.
It wasn't physical—but she felt it. Like a soft tug behind her heart, a call from something far away but intimately hers.
She stood. She didn't decide to. Her body just moved.
Each step led her deeper into the Hollow, toward danger, toward Selene. Her breath came faster. The magic buzzed beneath her skin like nerves before a fall. She didn't want to go. She couldn't stop.
And then she saw her.
Selene stood in a clearing wrapped in soft gold light, her back to Alina, hair loose, hands raised to the rising sun. She looked peaceful. Mortal.
Alina hated her for that.
She stepped into the clearing. "Undo it."
Selene didn't turn. "Good morning, hunter."
"I said undo it."
Selene turned, slowly. Her eyes were calm, curious, dangerous.
"I can't."
Alina's heart stopped. "What?"
"I told you," Selene said softly. "The curse binds us. One dies, so does the other. Only the prophecy can break it."
"There is no prophecy," Alina snapped. "There's only your lies."
Selene stepped forward. "Then kill me. Right now."
Alina reached for a blade she didn't have. Her hands shook. Her vision blurred.
Selene lifted her hand, and for a moment Alina thought she would cast another spell.
But instead—Selene touched her cheek.
A soft, cold touch.
"You hate me," Selene whispered. "Good. You're supposed to."
Alina couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"And soon," Selene said, stepping even closer, "you'll want me just as badly."
Alina slapped her again.
This time, Selene laughed.