Mated To The Twin Alphas

18: The Hunt For The Temple

The road to the northern mountains was a graveyard of old wars.

Broken stone pillars jutted from the earth like bones, the ruins of forgotten packs scattered across the plains. The air was thick with the ghosts of howls — echoes of wolves who had fallen centuries ago defending the lands that now belonged to no one.

We rode for two days without rest. Damon led the convoy, his eyes fixed on the horizon, jaw set in that way that meant he was fighting something he couldn’t speak aloud. Every now and then, I’d catch him glancing back at me — and away just as quickly.

The mark on my wrist burned the closer we drew to the mountains. It wasn’t pain exactly — more like a pull, an invisible thread tugging at my chest, leading me somewhere between memory and dread.

At dusk on the second day, we made camp in an abandoned fortress. The walls were carved with lunar symbols, their edges worn smooth by centuries of wind. The place smelled faintly of sage and dust.

As the others slept, I sat by the dying fire, tracing the crescent markings along the stones. Damon joined me quietly, the flames casting gold light over his face.

“You should rest,” he said.

“I can’t,” I admitted. “The closer we get, the louder it gets.”

He frowned. “The bond?”

I nodded. “He’s… calling me. Not in words, but I feel him. He’s fighting it, Damon.”

His jaw clenched. “Or it’s Kael using him to draw you in.”

“Maybe,” I whispered, “but what if it’s not?”

The silence between us thickened. The fire cracked, throwing sparks into the night. Then Damon spoke, his voice low and rough.

“Before the eclipse… he told me to protect you. He said if he ever lost control, I had to make sure you survived — even if it meant killing him myself.”

My throat tightened. “You couldn’t do it.”

He didn’t deny it. “You couldn’t either.”

The bond flared suddenly — hot, sharp, overwhelming. I gasped and clutched my wrist. Images slammed through my mind: Darius standing on a cliff beneath a black moon, his eyes flickering between crimson and gold, chains of light binding his arms.

He looked at me through the vision — and for the briefest second, it was him.

“Selene,” his voice echoed, ragged, desperate. “Don’t let the Moon take me.”

Then the image shattered, leaving only darkness.

Damon gripped my shoulders. “What did you see?”

“He’s trapped,” I whispered. “Alive, but the shadow’s closing in.”

Damon rose, determination hardening his expression. “Then we move at dawn. No more delays.”

The next morning, we crossed into the mountains. The paths were narrow and treacherous, the rocks sharp as blades. Strange runes glowed faintly beneath the fog, marking an ancient border between the mortal world and the Goddess’s domain.

By nightfall, the mountains opened into a valley bathed in silver mist. At its center stood three enormous stone arches, arranged in a circle — the Temple of the Three Moons.

The mark on my wrist flared so bright I cried out. The air vibrated with energy. Damon caught me before I fell, but the pull only grew stronger.

He looked toward the temple’s heart, where a faint figure waited — tall, cloaked in darkness, crimson eyes watching.

Darius.

Or what was left of him.