Marked by the Alpha's Curse

Chapter 20

#MBTACChapter20

—

The atmosphere in the cursed lands grew heavier as we pressed forward, the air thick with magic that felt like it was seeping into my skin. Every step was a struggle against the oppressive energy that seemed to push back at us.

The trees twisted unnaturally, their branches clawing at the sky like desperate hands. Nimbus stayed close to me, his movements cautious and deliberate. Timothy led the way, his expression grim and focused. Lyra walked beside him, her staff glowing faintly to light our path. The faint hum of her magic was the only sound other than the crunch of leaves beneath our feet.

"We're close now," Timothy said, his voice low. "The Glade should be just beyond this ridge."

I glanced up, my gaze catching the faint glow of something in the distance. "Do you think we'll find what we need there?"

"We have to," Lyra replied firmly. "If the shard's origin is tied to the curse, this is our best chance to learn how to end it."

The ridge ahead was steep and rocky, and my legs ached as we climbed. Nimbus leapt from rock to rock with ease, pausing every so often to look back at me.

"At least one of us is enjoying this," I muttered under my breath.

Timothy reached down to help me over a particularly large boulder. His hand was warm and steady, and for a moment, our eyes met.

"You're doing fine," he said softly.

I nodded, pulling myself up beside him. "Thanks."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "If you two are done making heart eyes at each other, we have a cursed Glade to reach."

Timothy shot her a warning look, but I couldn't help the faint blush that crept up my cheeks.

When we crested the ridge, the sight before us stole my breath. The Hollowed Glade stretched out below, bathed in an eerie, greenish light. The ground was covered in shimmering mist, and the air was filled with a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate in my bones.

In the center of the Glade stood a massive stone altar, its surface etched with intricate runes that glowed faintly. Around it, the remains of ancient trees formed a natural circle, their twisted trunks reaching toward the sky.

"This is it," Timothy said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As we descended into the Glade, the hum grew louder, the air charged with energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Nimbus pressed closer to my leg, his golden eyes wide with unease.

Lyra approached the altar cautiously, her staff raised. "These runes are old. Older than the pack, maybe even older than the curse itself."

Timothy nodded. "This is where it all began. The shard was forged here."

I stepped closer, my gaze drawn to the center of the altar, where a faint depression marked the spot where something had once rested. The charm around my neck grew warm, its light pulsing faintly in response.

"Do you feel that?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Timothy's eyes narrowed. "The charm... it's reacting."

Lyra leaned in, her brow furrowed. "It's connected to this place. To the shard."

Before I could respond, the ground beneath us trembled, a deep rumble that sent shockwaves through the Glade. Nimbus let out a startled yowl, and I grabbed onto the edge of the altar for support.

"What's happening?" I shouted over the noise.

Timothy drew his dagger, his body tense. "We're not alone."

From the mist, figures began to emerge—shadows with glowing red eyes and jagged, monstrous forms. Their movements were unnatural, their limbs bending at impossible angles as they advanced toward us.

"Defilers," Lyra hissed, her staff crackling with energy.

Timothy moved to stand in front of me, his dagger gleaming in the greenish light. "Stay close. These things won't go down easily."

One of the creatures lunged, and Timothy met it head-on, his movements swift and precise. Lyra unleashed a blast of magic that sent another flying backward, its body disintegrating into ash.

I clutched the charm around my neck, its warmth spreading through me like a protective shield. Nimbus darted between the creatures, his small form surprisingly agile as he distracted them with sharp claws and quick movements.

"Focus on the altar!" Lyra shouted, her voice strained. "The answers are there!"

I turned back to the runes, my mind racing. The charm's light was growing brighter, its pulsing rhythm syncing with the hum of the Glade. I reached out, my fingers brushing the surface of the altar.

A surge of energy shot through me, and suddenly, the world around me shifted. Images flashed before my eyes—scenes of a pack gathered around the altar, their faces desperate and determined. A man with glowing scars stood at the center, holding a shard of crystal that pulsed with dark energy.

The shard was both their salvation and their doom.

I gasped, the vision fading as the energy subsided. My knees buckled, and Timothy caught me before I could fall.

"I saw it," I whispered. "The shard... it was meant to protect them, but it was corrupted. The curse started here."

Lyra blasted another creature, her face pale. "Then we need to purify it. That’s the only way to break the curse."

Timothy pulled me to my feet, his gaze fierce. "Tell us what to do."

I looked at the altar, the runes glowing brighter now. The answers were here, hidden in the ancient magic of the Glade.

But unlocking them would require a sacrifice—and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face what that might mean.

—

To be continued…