The camp exploded into chaos.
Crimson wolves charged from every direction, their snarls tearing through the cold air. Runes still pulsed on the ground, flickering violently as the ritual destabilized. The storm above them spun in spirals of fractured light, the sky itself reacting to whatever ancient magic now coursed between Ysolde and Kael.
Kael did not hesitate.
The moment Keera shouted for her wolves to kill them, Kael's form blurred. One heartbeat he stood beside Ysolde, massive and trembling from the aftermath of the ritual—then in the next, he launched into the first attackers with an explosion of motion.
He was still monstrous, still enormous, still wrong in shape. But the curse inside him no longer thrashed wildly; it moved with him, not against him. For the first time, his power was focused.
And all of it was turned on the wolves who dared to come near her.
One wolf lunged with fangs barred—Kael slammed him into the ice so hard his skull cracked. Another came from the left—Kael's claws tore across its chest, scattering blood like paint across the snow. A third tried to flank from behind—Kael twisted, jaws snapping around its throat, crushing bone.
Wolves screamed.
Keera stumbled backward, shock widening her crimson eyes as Kael tore through her pack with savage precision.
"No—no, this is impossible!"
Her wolves hesitated now, fear rippling through them. None had ever seen the cursed king fight like this—controlled, deadly, unleashed.
Kael turned his head slowly, silver eyes blazing, breath steaming in violent bursts.
He wasn't fighting like a beast anymore.
He was fighting like a king.
The fear rolling from the wolves only seemed to stir him more. His gaze slid toward Keera, and when their eyes met, she paled.
"Get back!" she shouted, raising her dagger. "Form a wall! Do NOT let him near the human!"
Ysolde struggled to her feet, her legs weak, her arm throbbing where the blade had cut her. The blood had dried in strange lines across her skin—dark, shimmering faintly, like something lived beneath the surface.
She didn't feel like herself.
Her heartbeat thudded louder than her thoughts. Her senses felt too sharp. The cold bit her skin but didn't sink in. The ritual hadn't just touched her—it had changed something.
Kael tore through another wolf, and Ysolde flinched as warm droplets landed near her boots. He was a wall of violence, a storm moving through flesh.
But his eyes kept flicking back to her.
Checking that she was alive. Checking that she hadn't been taken again.
Every time their gazes met, something inside her tightened—something frightening and magnetic all at once.
Keera saw it too.
Her lips curled.
"You've bonded."
Ysolde's breath hitched.
Kael growled—a deep, warning vibration that shook loose snow from the rocks.
Keera said louder this time, her voice scraping the wind, "The curse chose her. The King's blood chose her. And now you can't be apart without the curse crawling through your veins like fire."
Ysolde swallowed. "Kael—"
His head whipped toward her instantly.
Keera threw her hands up. The runes sparked violently, and three crimson wolves lunged at once toward Ysolde.
Kael roared—a sound that wasn't a cry or a howl. It was a command.
It shook the ice.
He collided with the wolves mid-air, jaws snapping, claws tearing. He ripped one in half, crushed the second's ribs, and pinned the third under his paw until it stopped breathing.
Ysolde flinched backward, breath trembling.
Kael stood between her and everything else—massive, monstrous, panting, snow steaming beneath him. Blood streaked his fur. His claws dripped crimson. His breath rose in great clouds.
But when his gaze turned toward her again, it softened.
Not human-soft.
Not gentle.
But controlled.
Focused.
Claiming.
She didn't understand it, but she felt it—felt the bond like a hook in her chest, pulling toward him as surely as her breath.
Keera's lips curled in disgust.
"Pathetic."
She pointed her dagger at Ysolde.
"That human is the only thing keeping your curse stable. Kill her, and you return to the beast you were born to be."
Kael's growl shook the earth.
Ysolde took a step closer. "Kael, don't listen to her—"
He moved instantly—closing the distance between them in a single bound, placing his massive body between her and Keera. The wind of his movement hit her like a shockwave.
Keera snarled.
"Still protecting her?" She raised the dagger. "Then you both die."
Before she could strike, Kael lunged.
Keera threw herself backward, rolling to avoid his claws. The ground where she'd stood exploded from the force of his strike.
Wolves surged forward, attacking Kael from every angle.
He fought like a creature forged for war—fast, brutal, precise. His claws swung in wide arcs, bodies falling around him. He knocked wolves off the cliffside with single blows. He caught another by the throat mid-lunge, throwing it across the ice.
But the pack was endless.
And Keera was not done.
She lifted her hands, and the runes under the ice flared again.
Ysolde gasped as pain ripped through her chest.
Kael staggered, snarling in agony as the curse surged violently, reacting to the magic Keera was drawing again.
"No—stop!" Ysolde cried.
Keera smirked, eyes glowing blood-red. "Yes. I see it now. Your bond is fresh, fragile, incomplete. I can use it."
She slashed her dagger across her palm, letting her own blood drip onto the runes.
The circle pulsed.
Ysolde collapsed to her knees, her breath torn from her lungs. The pull inside her intensified, dragging her toward the center of the ritual like an invisible hand gripping her heart.
Kael roared in pain and fury, trying to fight the magic binding him.
Keera spread her arms, laughing.
"Let the curse devour him! Let him tear his own mind apart!"
Ysolde forced herself onto trembling feet. The magic was ripping at her—dragging, draining, pulling—but she pushed forward.
She stepped out of the runes.
Keera froze.
"What are you doing…?"
Ysolde breathed hard, sweat freezing on her brow. "Stupid things," she whispered. "Apparently."
She stumbled toward Kael.
Keera screamed, "STOP HER—!"
Two wolves lunged.
Kael surged forward with all the strength left in him and slammed them into the ground, crushing both beneath his claws.
Ysolde reached him.
She lifted her hand—
Kael's massive head lowered to meet it.
Her palm touched his fur.
Light erupted.
Silver and red collided, swirling around them, the magic spiraling upward into a violent storm of color. Keera shielded her face as the runes shattered beneath her. Wolves fled, howling in terror.
Ysolde felt Kael's curse jolt toward her—recognizing her blood, anchoring, binding, settling.
Kael's breathing steadied.
The magic dimmed.
And Keera stumbled backward in horror.
"No… no, this can't—this can't be happening—"
Kael lifted his head, eyes glowing like molten silver.
With slow, deliberate steps, he began to advance.
Keera backed away—fear finally cracking through her façade.
"You don't know what you're doing!" she shouted.
Kael's voice rumbled through the snow, half-wolf, half-man, utterly deadly.
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
Ysolde felt the bond pulse—a heavy, magnetic thrum in her chest.
Kael pointed a claw at Keera, voice dropping to a lethal whisper:
"You touched what's mine."
Keera paled.
And the chapter ends—
as Kael lunges toward her.