Wolf Cursed

Chapter 4: The Altar's Call

“Stay close,” Killian snapped, his breath labored. “And don’t touch anything unless I tell you.”

“Got it,” Ivy muttered, dodging a wraith’s swipe and slashing through its smoky form. Her sarcasm faltered as she glanced at the altar—its pulsating glow sent chills down her spine. “What’s your big plan? Fight until we drop?”

“Just reach the altar,” Killian growled, punching another wraith into mist. “Move!”

She bolted forward, each step an uphill battle as the altar’s energy wrapped around her like a heavy shroud. When her fingers brushed the cold stone, a searing pain shot through her hand. Images flooded her mind: a barren wasteland, a figure bound by chains, the altar at the center. Ivy gasped, collapsing to her knees.

“Ivy, get back!” Killian’s voice cracked with desperation.

Before she could react, the altar’s light swallowed her whole. The forest vanished, replaced by a cracked expanse under a crimson sky. A shadowy figure loomed ahead, its form shifting between solid and smoke.

“You dare disturb my sanctuary?” it snarled, its voice a thousand whispers layered over a roar.

Ivy staggered to her feet, her blade raised. “Who are you?”

The figure laughed, a sound that echoed like a thunderclap. “I am the curse. The chains that bind this forest and its pitiful Alpha. And you, mortal, are insignificant.”

“If you’re the curse, you know why I’m here,” Ivy retorted, her voice hard despite the fear clawing at her. “I’m ending this.”

“Ending this?” The figure stepped closer, its eyes glowing like embers. “You cannot undo what has been forged in blood and fire. Your Alpha is doomed. You are doomed.”

The ground beneath her feet cracked, black smoke seeping from the fissures. The figure twisted, growing larger, its shadow engulfing her.

“Leave now,” it hissed, “or be consumed.”

“Not happening,” Ivy said, tightening her grip on the blade. “If you want me gone, you’ll have to kill me.”

The figure roared, its form erupting into a whirlwind of shadow. Ivy braced herself as it lunged.

Killian’s fists were bloodied, his strength fading as wraiths tore at him. His eyes locked on Ivy, who was now encased in blinding light. Panic surged through him.

“Ivy!” he bellowed, forcing his way toward her. By the time he reached the altar, the light dimmed. Ivy stood amidst the chaos, her eyes glowing faintly, the wraiths retreating as if in fear.

“Ivy?” Killian’s voice was wary, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.

She turned to him, her expression distant, her voice layered with an unnatural echo. “The curse… it’s tied to him. To break it, we must sever the bond.”

“Who is ‘him’?” Killian demanded, but Ivy’s focus was elsewhere. She swayed, the glow fading from her eyes as she collapsed into his arms.

“We’re running out of time,” she whispered before slipping into unconsciousness.

Back at the cabin, Killian laid Ivy on the bed, his jaw clenched as her words echoed in his mind. The tarot cards on the table caught his eye. The Tower card was gone, replaced by the Devil. Chains bound two shadowed figures, their faces obscured.

Killian’s fists tightened. Whatever force they faced, it wasn’t going to let them win easily. But neither would he.

Outside, the forest shifted. Unseen eyes watched the cabin, waiting. A low growl rumbled in the distance, followed by a howl that split the night—a warning of what was to come.