Chapter nine
1093 Words
The light burned.
Not my skin—my bones.
It poured through my fingers in a rush so violent I cried out, knees buckling as the Sanctuary answered my touch like a living thing finally drawing breath. The relic flared blinding white, then gold, then something deeper—older—threaded with silver veins that pulsed in time with my heart.
The chamber moved.
Stone pillars groaned as sigils carved into them ignited, light racing upward in spirals. The hum beneath my skin swelled into a roar, not sound exactly, but pressure—like the world leaning in to listen.
Rachel grabbed my shoulders, shouting something I couldn’t hear.
Voices filled my head instead.
Not one.
Many.
Ancient. Layered. Wolves and women and men speaking together, overlapping, their words folding into meaning rather than sound.
—Heir—
—Blood-bound—
—Balance—
I gasped, fingers tightening instinctively around the light.
Images slammed into me.
A circle of stone beneath a full moon. Twelve figures standing hand in hand—human and wolf blurred together—blood dripping from cut palms into a carved basin. Power rising, not wild, not feral, but guided. Chosen.
The first bond.
Not dominance.
Not control.
Consent.
I screamed as the vision tore through me and vanished.
The Sanctuary went silent.
Then—
Boom.
The door shuddered violently. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, glowing an angry red now, the runes fighting to hold.
“They’re breaking through!” Rachel shouted, finally cutting through the ringing in my ears.
I looked down.
The relic hovered inches from my chest, no longer separate from me. Light streamed from it into my veins, tracing the lines of my blood like it was learning me—mapping every breath, every heartbeat.
“I can feel them,” I whispered. “Not just outside. Behind them.”
Rachel went still. “What do you mean?”
Something shifted at the edge of my awareness. Not hunger like the ferals. Not madness.
Intent.
“They’re being driven,” I said, horror curling through my stomach. “Someone’s guiding them. Pushing them toward this place.”
Rachel’s face drained of color. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
“But it is,” I said. “Because this Sanctuary isn’t just a shield.”
The truth landed fully formed, heavy and absolute.
“It’s a lock.”
Another impact hit the door—hard enough to knock dust from the ceiling. The c***k widened, red light spilling through like a wound.
Rachel swore again, backing toward me. “Elora, whatever you’re doing—do it faster.”
I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe.
The power wasn’t meant to be taken.
It was meant to be shared.
I pressed my palm flat against the relic, not gripping, not forcing.
Listening.
“I don’t want to control it,” I whispered, unsure who I was speaking to—the Sanctuary, the voices, myself. “I want to protect. I want balance.”
The hum shifted.
Softer.
Deeper.
Approval rippled through the chamber.
The relic dissolved into light.
Not vanished—entered.
Pain lanced through my chest as something ancient settled into place, locking into my spine, my ribs, my soul. I collapsed forward with a cry, hands braced against the stone as power flooded me—not wild, not burning now, but vast. Controlled.
Rachel caught me before I hit the floor. “Elora—what did you do?”
I lifted my head slowly.
The runes had changed.
Where once they glowed silver, they now held streaks of warm gold threaded through them, steady and calm. The door’s cracks flickered—then froze.
Outside, the roars faltered.
Confusion rippled through the air like a shockwave.
“They can’t push through,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. “Not like this.”
Rachel stared at the door, then back at me. “You sealed it.”
“Partially,” I replied. “Enough to stop them from breaking in.”
Her eyes sharpened. “But?”
“But Gina’s still out there.”
Silence fell between us, heavy and awful.
Another presence stirred within the Sanctuary—not hostile, not urgent.
Waiting.
A path unfurled in my mind’s eye, winding beneath the stone, deeper than the chamber we stood in. Old corridors. Hidden exits.
And something else.
A pull.
Not fear.
A call.
“I know where she is,” I said suddenly.
Rachel’s head snapped up. “You what?”
“She’s alive,” I said, certainty settling into my bones. “Hurt. But alive. They’re circling her—not attacking.”
Rachel’s mouth tightened. “Why wouldn’t they finish the kill?”
“Because they’re being told not to,” I said. “They want me.”
The truth tasted bitter.
Rachel exhaled sharply. “Then we don’t give them what they want.”
I met her gaze. “I think we already have.”
I straightened, ignoring the tremor in my legs. Power thrummed through me now—not overwhelming, but present. Like a second spine holding me upright.
“This Sanctuary was built for moments like this,” I continued. “Not to hide. To choose.”
Rachel studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. “Alright. Tell me what you see.”
I closed my eyes.
The world unfolded.
Tunnels beneath the Sanctuary, old escape routes carved for claws and feet alike. Pressure points in the stone—wards I could bend, redirect. And beyond them, the ferals… and something else.
A mind.
Sharp.
Patient.
Watching through borrowed eyes.
My breath hitched. “We’re not dealing with a rogue pack leader.”
Rachel’s voice went cold. “Then what are we dealing with?”
I opened my eyes.
“Someone who knows about the first bond,” I said. “And wants to remake it—without consent. Without balance.”
The Sanctuary hummed in warning.
Rachel reached for her weapons. “Then we move fast.”
I nodded, stepping toward the newly revealed corridor as the runes parted at my approach.
For the first time, the power didn’t scare me.
It steadied me.
“I won’t let them use this,” I said quietly. “Or me.”
Rachel fell into step beside me. “Good. Because once we step out there—”
“I know,” I finished.
The corridor darkened ahead, lit only by the steady glow that followed my footsteps.
The Sanctuary watched us go.
And far beyond the stone—
Something smiled.
- Writer
