The moon hung heavy and red over the horizon as Selene and Damon trudged through the moss-covered woods. The battle with Lucien had left them both wounded, but the deeper wound was the revelation—Damon's blood carried the echo of the First Wolf's curse.
They walked in silence until the sound of rushing water led them to a forgotten temple carved into the cliffs. The ancient structure was draped in vines, its stone walls cracked but still radiating power.
"Here," Selene said softly, tracing her fingers along the weathered runes etched into the entrance. "This place was built by the Witch Council centuries ago. It's where they used to bind the souls of traitors."
Damon's eyes narrowed. "Why bring me here?"
She met his gaze. "Because it's where the witches tested their true strength. I need to know what's inside you—all of it."
Damon hesitated. The thought of unearthing the beast that lurked beneath his skin filled him with dread. But he trusted her. More than anyone.
"Then let's find out," he said.
They stepped inside, their footsteps echoing through the hollow corridors. The air was thick with old magic, and the further they went, the heavier Damon's chest felt.
At the heart of the temple, they found a chamber encircled by towering statues of the ancient wolf gods. A pool of still water shimmered at the center, its surface reflecting the crimson moon above.
"Stand in the circle," Selene instructed, lighting the perimeter with a ring of silver fire.
"Will this hurt?" Damon asked, half-smiling.
"Probably," she said honestly.
As Damon stepped into the circle, Selene began chanting. The runes glowed, the air crackled, and the magic clawed its way under Damon's skin.
Visions slammed into him. He saw the First Wolf—a towering beast with fur as dark as midnight and eyes like molten gold. He saw war, betrayal, and blood binding generations.
And then he saw himself.
Not just as a vampire. Not just as a wolf. But as something else. Something the world had forgotten.
A force that could either destroy or save them all.
His scream shattered the silence as the beast inside him surged forward.
Selene forced the magic to steady, anchoring Damon's mind even as his body trembled on the edge of transformation.
"Stay with me, Damon," she whispered, her voice steady but urgent. "You're stronger than this. You control it, it doesn't control you."
His claws tore into his palms, his fangs lengthened, but her voice tethered him.
Finally, the wild energy subsided, and Damon collapsed to his knees, panting.
"I saw it," he rasped. "The real me. And it's… monstrous."
"It's powerful," Selene corrected, kneeling beside him. "It's you. All of you. You don't have to fear it."
He looked at her, his crimson eyes softening. "You still want to stand by me? Even knowing this?"
She cupped his face. "Especially knowing this."
Before they could savor the moment, the temple trembled. A pulse of dark magic surged through the stone, and the pool of water began to boil.
From the depths, a figure rose—tall, veiled in shadows, its presence suffocating.
"You awakened me," the figure hissed, its voice a thousand whispers. "The gatekeeper of the bound souls."
Selene and Damon stood, ready to fight.
"We need passage," Selene declared. "To the Temple of the First Flame."
The shadow entity glided toward them, its hollow eyes gleaming. "No passage is free. Blood must be paid."
Damon tightened his grip on the Fang of Fenrik. "Take mine."
The entity hovered over him, inhaling deeply. "Your blood carries many things. But I hunger for something older."
It turned to Selene. "Your blood sings of forbidden magic. Your lineage is not as pure as you believe."
Selene's pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"
"You are born of the Crescent Line—the witches who once betrayed the First Wolf."
Shock lanced through her. She'd never heard of such a lineage.
"Your fate has always been bound to his," the entity whispered. "As much as you run, you cannot escape what you are."
Damon stepped between them. "Take my blood. Leave her."
The shadow figure cackled, a sound that scraped against their bones. "Your bond is your curse."
With a swift slice across Damon's palm, the entity collected a drop of his blood, then dissipated into mist, leaving behind a faintly glowing sigil on the chamber wall.
The door to the next path creaked open.
As they stepped through, Selene's thoughts churned. Her bloodline. Her destiny. The meaning of the visions she'd long dismissed as nightmares.
"We have to keep moving," Damon said, brushing his thumb across her hand.
"I know," she murmured. "But when this is over… I need to know who I really am."
He squeezed her hand gently. "Whatever we find… we face it together."
Ahead of them, the path narrowed, the air thick with ancient magic and the weight of unfinished stories.
They walked on—their fates intertwined, their enemies growing closer, and their love a fragile thread stretched across the void of war.
The deeper they ventured, the more the shadows whispered—reminding them that blood may bind, but it can also betray.