43: The Curse’s Heir
The fortress no longer slept. Torches burned through the night, casting trembling gold across cold stone. Every wolf in the stronghold felt it — the imbalance, the shifting energy in the air. Alpha Darius was gone. Not dead. Not alive. Simply… missing. And somewhere deep inside the tower, Damon and Aria stood over his unconscious body, both of them breathing hard, both of them terrified. ⸻ Darius lay on the floor of the ritual chamber, his skin pale and marked with symbols that pulsed silver. His heartbeat was shallow — a faint echo that flickered like a dying ember. Aria knelt beside him, clutching his hand. “He’s fading,” she whispered. “If we wait any longer, the Phantom will consume his soul.” Damon’s jaw clenched. He’d never looked so broken. “Then we don’t wait.” He strode
- Writer
