Chapter 7: The Bloodline Curse
1031 Words
“The Silver Flame is not born. She is forged… in betrayal, in blood, and in fire.”
— Ancient Prophecy Fragment, Moon Temple Archives
Riven hadn’t left her side since the First Trial.
Not even for a second.
And yet, even with his steady presence beside her — warmth, strength, fire wrapped in human skin — Lyla had never felt so cold.
Because she couldn’t shake the image of her owners face… twisted, violent, cruel… staring back at her in the Hollow.
The part of her that wanted to burn everything.
And worse — the part of her that enjoyed it.
“You’re staring at the wall again,” Riven murmured, voice deep and calm as he leaned against the stone arch of her chamber.
Lyla blinked. “Sorry.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot since the Trial.”
“Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
She looked at him, eyes tired. “You ever wonder if you’re not the hero of your own story?”
He met her gaze. “All the time.”
Later that morning, Sylra arrived with something unexpected: a scroll sealed with wax, bearing the insignia of the High Alphas.
“This isn’t part of the Trials,” she said. “It’s… something else.”
She handed it to Riven.
He opened it.
Then froze.
“What is it?” Lyla asked.
He didn’t speak.
Sylra answered instead.
“It’s a summons to the Moon Temple Archives.”
Lyla raised a brow. “I thought only Elders were allowed inside there.”
“They are,” Sylra said. “Which means whoever called you there isn’t just curious.”
“They’re afraid of you.”
The Moon Temple sat high in the cliffs above Blackfang territory, nestled in jagged stone and surrounded by fog. Unlike the Hollow, this place was… sacred. Still. Heavy with magic.
Inside, glowing glyphs lined the walls. The air buzzed like static, humming with power that made Lyla’s skin tingle.
A robed figure waited by the largest altar — a woman with milky white eyes and moon-inked skin.
“You are the one the prophecies spoke of,” she said. “I’ve waited my whole life to see you.”
Lyla frowned. “Why me?”
The seer motioned for her to come closer.
“You bear the Mark of the Flame. But more than that… your blood remembers.”
She placed a hand gently over Lyla’s wrist. The mark lit up like wildfire.
Then the room pulsed — and a wall of smoke unfurled before them, forming images.
A woman. Young. Fierce. Long dark hair like Lyla’s. Her eyes silver as frost.
“Who is she?” Lyla whispered.
“Your mother,” the seer replied. “Her name was Seraya Aster.”
The image changed.
Seraya was running. Bleeding. Holding a baby.
Lyla.
Behind her — wolves. Fire. Shadows.
“She was hunted,” the seer said. “Because she carried a bloodline cursed by both wolves and men. A lineage older than the Packs. One that once defied the Moon itself.”
Lyla’s throat tightened. “Why?”
“Because Seraya refused the bond. She rejected her mate. She broke the oldest law of the Pack — and fled.”
“She ran from my father?”
“She ran from fate.”
Lyla’s heart twisted. “Then why did the bond choose me?”
The seer’s eyes turned grave.
“Because the blood always circles back. And now, it has found the perfect storm — a girl who holds the Flame… and a mate who carries the curse of kings.”
Riven flinched beside her. “What?”
The smoke shifted.
A new image formed — a man in black armor standing before a throne of bones. Behind him, a banner bearing the sigil of the Blackthorn bloodline.
The seer turned to Riven.
“You are not just Alpha, child. You are heir to the ancient line of Shadow Kings — wolves who once ruled by war and darkness. The old blood lives in you.”
Lyla stepped back. “What does that make us?”
The seer’s voice dropped.
“It makes you the end… or the beginning.”
As they left the temple, Lyla was silent.
Riven walked beside her, his jaw tight.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your bloodline?” she asked finally.
“I didn’t know,” he said. “I was adopted into the Blackthorn clan after the War of the Claws. They never told me the truth.”
She stopped walking.
“So I’m cursed. You’re cursed. And now we’re bound together because the universe thought it’d be funny?”
“Lyla…”
“What happens if I turn into her?” she asked. “The version of me from the Trial? What if I become that… monster?”
He stepped in close, gaze intense.
“Then I’ll still choose you.”
Her voice trembled. “Even if I burn everything down?”
“If you burn, I burn with you.”
That night, she stood on her balcony, staring at the moon — almost full now. Its glow made her mark shimmer like silver fire.
Everything was unraveling.
Her past. Her blood.
Even her heart.
But when she heard the quiet footsteps behind her, and felt Riven’s warm hand slide around her waist… she didn’t pull away.
“I can feel it,” she whispered. “The next trial. It’s coming.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She turned toward him, searching his eyes.
“You still want this?”
“I need this,” he said.
“I’m scared.”
“I am too,” he admitted.
“But I’m not letting go.”
He tilted her chin up.
And this time, when they kissed, it wasn’t desperate or fiery.
It was deep.
Slow.
Frightening in its intensity.
Like something ancient remembering itself.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, she whispered:
“If this is fate… I’ll fight for it.”
And the moon, high above them, pulsed brighter than ever.
[End of Chapter 7]
- Writer
