Page 14 of Cursed By Fate

“Too bad. Looks like I'm stuck with you.” She twirled a lock of her hair, an almost nervous gesture that betrayed her defiance. My wolf prowled under my skin, pacing. Claim. Protect. Destroy. The urges warred, primal and loud, refusing to be silenced. “Or are you the one who's stuck?” she laughed.

The words echoed through me, lodging somewhere deep. She couldn't possibly know how right she was. My eyes fell to her wrist, to the mark I now knew was like my own. Its crescent shape seemed to taunt me, daring me to understand what I refused to.

I was on dangerous ground. More dangerous than my pack could fathom. Serena, cursed and cast out, was supposed to be a pawn in this ancient game, not the player who threatened the board itself. If she was truly the one bound to the mark—then I was standing on a knife’s edge between salvation and annihilation. A wrong move, a wrong choice, and the mountain might not forgive me.

No. I had to silence the thought. I could not afford to believe it. I could not risk believing it.

But with each moment she stayed, with each breath she took in my world, I felt the pull of her destiny weaving tighter around me, a knot I was not sure I wanted to untie.

I left her standing in the center of my chamber—a wildfire in a stone temple, too bright, too dangerous. As the door clicked shut behind me, I realized the sanctuary had gone silent again. But it was a different silence. The kind that settles before something shatters.

I headed for the ancient caves deep beneath the compound, deep enough where Serena’s scent could no longer penetrate my senses. I needed to breathe. I needed to speak to Morrigan, the pack’s seer. Pushing deeper into the caves, I could smell the herbs and spices she was known for, and I knew I was getting closer.

The air grew thick and strange in Morrigan's chamber, as if time bent and buckled around me. Dried herbs swayed from the ceiling, casting long shadows on the walls. The heavy scent of sage clung to my lungs, leaving a ghost of prophecy with every breath. She appeared from nowhere, like an apparition in her own haunted chamber, violet eyes searching me with a knowing that cut too deep.

“You are troubled, Alpha,” Morrigan said, her voice like wind through hollow bones. It was neither question nor statement, but something more potent—a glimpse.

“Tell me what you see.” My words came out rough, barely cutting through the thickness of the air. “What is this about the girl?”

She stepped closer, her movements fluid and slow, as if choreographed by the cosmos themselves. The deep violet of her eyes never wavered, unsettling in their focus. “The girl with the matching mark. You know who she is.”

“I don’t know anything,” I said, the admission tasting bitter on my tongue. “But when I touched her... something happened.”

The air around us vibrated, charged with a silent anticipation. I pushed back my shirt, exposing the birthmark on the back my shoulder. Its pale crescent shape and stars stood out against my tan skin, a reminder that pulsed with uncertainty. I felt Morrigan's eyes on it, then on me, her gaze so intense it seemed to bore into the truth I couldn’t yet see.

“And hers is the same?” Her voice was a careful weave of disbelief and understanding, threading the line between them with expert precision.

“When we touched, they glowed.” I searched her face, hoping for a sliver of clarity in her inscrutable expression. “Tell me what it means.”

A smile tugged at her lips, more haunting than reassuring. She circled me, each step deliberate, an orbit of wisdom and mystery. Her fingers brushed the air near my mark, as if she could feel the energy sparking from it. “You are linked to the celestial, Tristan. Your bond was written long before you drew breath.”

Her words struck like a chill in my spine, sending shards of revelation through me. The prophecy was real. It wasn't a whisper of old wolves, but something that breathed and lived, wrapping itself around my world with each moment she spoke.

“Celestial?” I echoed, my voice trailing after the thought like a lost shadow.

“The moon has marked you, both of you. Not as a curse, but a protection,” Morrigan said, her tone dipping into something softer, almost tender.

Protection. The word hung between us, alien and familiar at once. Was that what this was? Not a chain, but a shield? A way to keep the world at bay until she found her way to me, her supposed counterpart?

“You speak in riddles, Morrigan.” My frustration was a living thing, my wolf straining against its tether. “Is it true? Is she...?”

She leaned in, her hair silver in the dim light, the lines of her face etched with age and agelessness. “Fated. Cursed with unrest until she finds her mate. Until she found you.”

The chamber seemed to narrow around us, its weight oppressive with the enormity of what she suggested. The girl who was supposed to bring ruin to my pack, to be nothing more than leverage in this ancient vendetta, was destined for me?

I stepped back, reeling from the impact. “And what about my pack? What does this mean for them?”

Morrigan's smile faded, replaced by a look of deep contemplation. Her voice dropped to a whisper, one I felt rather than heard. “A gift for her, a burden for you. The stars align, but their light is sharp.”

Her words left marks of their own, ones I couldn’t hide under clothes or duty. The risk was greater than I could have imagined. It wasn’t just my heart on the line but the heart of the pack, the essence of what we were. The thought was terrifying. Exhilarating.

“Tristan,” Morrigan called, drawing me back from the edge of my own spiraling thoughts. “What is in you cannot be undone.”

The room was closing in, her truths an avalanche of stardust and prophecy, burying the doubts I wanted to cling to. I needed air. I needed time. But time was a luxury that felt as fleeting as the shadow of a passing moon.

Morrigan turned and motioned for me to follow, leading me through an opening concealed by shadows which led to a long passage. Each step echoed with the past, relentless and haunting. Morrigan's presence was the only tether to now, a specter with roots sunk into the marrow of time itself. The dark and narrow tunnel seemed to go on forever, until we reached a chamber so ancient it felt like we walked inside the mountain’s very soul. Runic symbols glowed faintly on the walls, pulsing in time with my heart. They told a story of stones that fell from the heavens, of a betrayal older than memory.

I followed her deeper into the chamber, the walls narrowing and the air heavy with secrets too vast to comprehend. Crystal formations jutted from the ground, casting spectral lights that danced with our movements.

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