The cave was quiet now.
Ronan leaned against the stone wall, blood on his lip, skin scorched from half-morphing. The air stung like cold metal. Professor Lorne crouched nearby, eyes trained on the trees outside.
Neither of them spoke.
Like they were waiting—each daring the other to go first.
Ronan broke the silence.
"What was that thing?" His voice was hoarse. "It looked like a wolf… like the one you turned into, Professor. I've had a lot of questions for a while, but I kept quiet. Didn't want trouble. Is that thing like you? And why the hell is it trying to kill me?"
Lorne looked over, his face grim. "No."
"Then what was it?"
"A Blood Wolf," Lorne said darkly.
Ronan's stomach dropped. He had heard that name before—in dreams that felt too real. Nightmares where his wolf had shrugged it off, claiming it was nothing.
"Wolf," Ronan growled in his head. "You've been hiding this from me?"
But the wolf said nothing. Silence, cold and guilty.
"You're saying it came for me? But why?"
"I'm saying someone sent it for you," Lorne said.
That made Ronan's chest clench. "Why?"
Lorne hesitated, then asked, "What do you remember about your mother?"
Ronan's throat tightened. "Not much. She died when I was six. They said it was an animal attack."
"She wasn't just attacked," Lorne said softly. "She was eliminated."
The words hit like ice water down his back.
Lorne continued. "Your mother belonged to a hidden bloodline. Royal in a sense—but cursed. Her family had power over something ancient. Dangerous. Feared by all… but protected by few."
"Power over what?" Ronan asked, voice dry.
"Truth," Lorne said simply. "Your bloodline can awaken what others can't. That makes you a threat."
"A threat to who?"
"To those who keep the old laws. The ones who sent that Blood Wolf after you."
And in that moment, Ronan knew: the peaceful life he had clawed together was already gone.
Elsewhere — A Dying Fireplace
The Blood Wolf limped into the circle of firelight, its fur scorched, bleeding thick black ichor from deep cuts.
A cloaked figure rose from a shadowed chair.
"You failed."
The Blood Wolf growled, low and submissive.
The figure stepped forward, placing a glowing hand on the beast's head. The wolf whimpered—not from pain, but obedience.
"I told you to bring me the boy's head, not his scent. I knew Lorne would interfere, even if the Council didn't move."
The wolf's eyes flickered.
The cloaked figure smiled faintly. "Surprising. His wolf helped him. That's never happened before. I see… it's grown sentient—drawn from your memory I just absorbed."
He turned, the flames warping around him.
"Fine. Then we begin Phase Two. This time, we don't send just one wolf. We lure more out. It's time to gauge what they're hiding."
Back at the Mountain Cave
Ronan sat wrapped in a thermal blanket Lorne pulled from a hidden stash. Apparently, the man kept a survival pack buried near the cave.
Of course he did.
"You've done this before," Ronan muttered.
"Figured you'd piece that together," Lorne said.
"The leech attack last time… was that also connected?"
"Yes, but not directly. It was a creature bound here by blood wards. I pushed it onto your attacker because you weren't ready to face it yourself."
"So you used it to save me?"
"I used it to buy you time."
"And Calla? Why did it attack her first?"
Lorne sighed. "It wasn't supposed to. I expected it to hit the one who tried to attack you."
"Who?"
"The student who cornered you. But somehow, he passed the curse onto someone else. Because Calla is always digging for the truth… she triggered it."
Ronan's stomach sank.
"But she's stronger than she looks," Lorne added. "Your aura has been protecting her in the shadows. That made it easier for the curse to weaken."
"She's safer than you think," he continued. "In fact… I think she's waking up too."
Ronan's head snapped up. "What?"
"There's something in her. I felt it when she brought me the letter. Old energy. Hidden deep."
"She knows what's happening?"
"She's starting to."
"She found the letter where?" Ronan pushed.
"Somewhere forgotten. Doesn't matter now. What matters is… it led me to you."
"Professor, just say it. Stop dodging."
Lorne hesitated. "The person who sent the Blood Wolf… also sent the letter."
Ronan blinked.
"What did it say?"
Lorne read his look and answered, "It warned me that by the time I read it, your life would be in danger. I believe the sender is testing us—testing you. And I fear… he's watching Calla too."
"You mean… she's like me?"
"No," Lorne said. "But she might be something else entirely."
Back at the Archive Room — That Same Night
Calla's fingers hovered over the page.
The old seal pulsed faintly beneath the parchment — as if still alive.
Her heart thundered in her chest.
The name Ronan Vale burned like it had been etched into her bones.
Suddenly, her lamp flared.
She gasped.
The pages fluttered. Wind rushed past her.
But no windows were open.
And she was alone.
Back in the Forest
"Why me?" Ronan asked, voice quiet. "Why really me?"
Lorne looked over his shoulder.
And this time, he didn't flinch.
"Because you were born with a mark no one survives. A curse. One your wolf tried to seal. But now… they've seen it."
"What curse?"
Lorne knelt and pulled back Ronan's sleeve.
There, across his bicep—something shimmered beneath the skin.
A sigil. Glowing faintly. Blooming like fire in ice.
"Your wolf didn't just protect you," Lorne said. "It sealed you."
Ronan stared at the mark.
Everything ached—his blood, his bones, his memories.
But he wasn't scared.
He was furious.
"What now?" he asked, bitterness in his voice.
Lorne gave a half-smile. "Now… I train you. And your wolf strengthens your body."
Ronan scoffed.
"I should hate you," he muttered toward his wolf. "You've hidden too much. I barely remember my parents. I was dropped off with some cousin who tossed me into a damn orphanage. If not for my brains, I wouldn't have made it here."
There was silence.
Then the wolf finally spoke.
"I'm sorry, Ronan."
"Don't hide things from me again," Ronan snapped. "How much of me is missing because of you?"
The wolf stayed quiet.
But Ronan could feel it — guilt. Real guilt.