The Arrival
The wind over Lycanthra shifted that night — carrying with it the scent of old blood and dying moonlight.
From her balcony, Isabella felt it before she heard it — the faint, familiar pulse of home.A scent she had not breathed in since the night she left Theralis.
Ash and iron.Vampire blood.Her blood.
A knock came at her door, urgent. Calen entered, his face pale beneath the torchlight."Your Majesty," he said carefully, "there is a visitor. From Theralis."
Her heart froze. "Who?"
He swallowed. "King Darius Reon."
The world tilted. For a moment, Isabella forgot how to breathe. Her father — here, in Lycanthra? It was impossible. And yet, in her bones, she knew it was true.
Without another word, she swept past Calen, the long folds of her gown whispering against the stone. The corridors blurred around her — the scent of sickness thickening the air with every step.
The King of a Dying Kingdom
She found him in the southern hall.
King Darius Reon — ruler of the Vampire Court, the man whose shadow had once commanded empires — now looked more ghost than king. His skin was pale as frost, his eyes clouded with fatigue, veins blackened beneath the surface.
He turned toward her, and in that instant, she was a child again."Isabella…" His voice was a rasp of smoke and sorrow.
She moved forward, trembling. "Father."
He reached for her, his hands shaking. "I had to see you. Theralis has fallen quiet. Too quiet. The Blood Plague spreads like wildfire through the lower houses. Even the healers have turned to ash. I came—" He broke off, coughing into his sleeve. The sound was raw, wet, alive with the scent of blood.
"You shouldn't have come," she whispered, gripping his arm. "The plague—it's death itself."
"I could not die without seeing you once more," he said, his smile faint, broken. "And I came not for mercy, but warning. The plague… it has changed. It no longer kills only the weak. It feeds."
"Feeds?"
He nodded, trembling. "On the strong. On the royal blood."
The words sank into her like a blade.
She led him to her chamber despite the guards' protests. The wolves recoiled at his scent — the stench of decay and foreign power. But Isabella refused to turn him away. He was her father, her king, the last remnant of a home that was dying.
As she helped him sit, his hand brushed hers. His touch was cold, but beneath it pulsed a strange rhythm — slow, unnatural. It burned for a heartbeat, then faded.
Neither noticed the faint crimson shimmer that passed between their skin.
The Shadow Beneath the Skin
That night, the Citadel whispered.
A vampire king had entered the House of Wolves. The news spread like fire through the halls — half in fear, half in awe. Some said the Alpha King would have him executed by dawn. Others said the plague itself would do the work.
But Ryan Azaron Steel was far from the Citadel, deep within the forests of the north, hunting to silence the restless howl within his chest.
And yet, even there, he felt it.
A faint tremor through the bond — not pain, but sickness. Something crawling beneath his skin.
You feel it too, his wolf whispered, amused. Your mate bleeds.
Ryan froze mid-step, his claws half unsheathed. "What?"
Her blood turns cold. Something foreign sleeps in her veins. You should have stayed.
He snarled, shaking his head. "You lie."
The wolf's laughter echoed through him. Then why do you smell her fear?
Ryan gritted his teeth, forcing the bond shut, cutting himself off from the echo of her pain. "She's strong. She'll survive."
And what of the old one? the wolf taunted. Her father carries death in his breath. It's spreading.
"Enough," Ryan growled. "I said silence."
But the wolf pressed closer, its voice coiling like smoke around his thoughts. You can't outrun what's in your blood, Alpha. You are bound to her — her sickness is your sickness.
Ryan's eyes burned gold. "Then let it kill me."
Brave words, the wolf hissed. But when she stops breathing, you'll crawl back to her like the beast you are.
Ryan didn't answer. He drove his blade into the earth and stayed there, head bowed, breathing hard as the forest fell silent around him.
The Infection
Within the Citadel, Isabella watched over her father. His fever waxed and waned, his strength flickering like a dying flame.
"Rest, Father," she whispered, laying a cool cloth over his brow.
"You look pale," Darius murmured, his voice barely audible. "Too pale, even for a Reon."
She smiled faintly. "You taught me not to show weakness."
"And yet I see it in your eyes." His hand reached for hers, trembling. "The bond — it makes you vulnerable."
Her chest tightened. "You know of it?"
"I know what the Book of the Eclipse foretold." His gaze flickered, shadowed by fever. "A bond born of blood and moon. A curse that will either unite our worlds or end them."
"Prophecies are for dreamers," she said quietly.
"Then you, my daughter, are already dreaming."
He drifted into sleep, but his words stayed behind, lingering in the air like smoke.
Hours later, Isabella rose to pour water into a basin — and the world tilted. A flash of pain seared behind her eyes, sharp and blinding. The cup slipped from her hand, shattering.
She gripped the table, trembling. The room spun, her heartbeat too loud. She could feel the plague beneath her skin now — the same dark pulse that had hollowed her father's veins.
"Mira," she called faintly.
The maid rushed in, her face pale. "My queen—"
"Say nothing," Isabella rasped. "This doesn't leave the room. Not yet."
Mira hesitated, then bowed her head. "As you command."
When she left, Isabella slumped against the wall, shivering. She could feel the bond stirring — the invisible thread between her and Ryan trembling like a plucked string.
Somewhere far away, she knew he felt it too.
The Wolf's Defiance
Ryan awoke before dawn, drenched in sweat. The air reeked of ash and fever. His wolf was pacing inside him now, snarling.
She burns. You feel it. Why do you stay away?
"Because she's not my concern."
She is your mate.
"She's a vampire," he snapped. "A symbol. A curse. Nothing more."
The wolf laughed — a low, savage sound. And yet your body betrays you. Your heart races when hers falters. You are bound, Alpha. By the Moon, by blood, by fate.
Ryan clenched his fists. "Fate is a chain forged by fools."
Then why can't you break it?
The question hung there, cruel and true.
He turned away, marching through the forest until his legs gave out. He fell to his knees in the mud, gasping for air as the echo of her heartbeat stuttered in his chest.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then, quietly, his wolf whispered:You can deny her, Ryan Azaron Steel. But you cannot survive her dying.
Ryan's eyes lifted to the horizon — to the faint outline of Lycanthra's spires glowing under the Blood Moon. His jaw tightened.
He would not go back.Not yet.Not when pride was all he had left.
But the bond would not let him rest.
The Lingering Curse
By the third night, Darius's fever eased. He was alive — barely — kept under guard in a moonlit chamber. The wolves watched him with suspicion; the vampires' king among wolves was an omen none could interpret.
Isabella, pale but composed, hid her worsening sickness beneath layers of silk and silence. Each breath came harder now, each heartbeat slower.
Mira begged to fetch the Alpha King.
Isabella refused.
"Let him stay away," she whispered. "Let him feel what he's chosen to ignore."
Outside, the Blood Moon rose once more, staining the sky the color of grief.
And far away in the northern forests, Ryan felt that same moon burn against his skin — the pull of the bond growing stronger, sharper, demanding.
He closed his eyes, teeth bared."Damn you, Isabella Reon," he whispered."Damn us both."