Chapter 8: The Shadowborn Awakens
Lightning ripped the sky open, and Hollowmere went full nightmare mode.
Supposedly, this was neutral ground—no blood, no drama, thanks to some dusty old pacts. Yeah, right. Now blood spattered the sacred stones, and all those vows? Shattered, useless, like glass under a steel boot.
Liora froze. Just for a blink—barely long enough to register the dagger flashing for her heart.
Kael's arm snatched her back by the waist—close call, the blade slicing empty air where she'd just been.
"MOVE!"
Everything went wild. Fangs. Fire. The air full of screams and howls.
The Seer hit the dirt, twisting and seizing, eyes rolled up, mouth gaping like she was trying to scream but nothing came out.
"Get her out!" Liora barked at Dante. He didn't hesitate—he scooped the Seer up and disappeared into the smoke, two warriors on his heels.
Kael dragged Liora behind a toppled stone as the ground shook with another explosion.
"This isn't just an ambush," he snarled. "It's a purge. Again."
"Then we finish it. Here," Liora shot back.
Kael's grin was all teeth. "Together."
They dove back into the chaos.
Council traitors everywhere, no banners, just black cloaks, silver bands, and weapons dipped in the nastiest stuff they could find. They fought hard—fast, savage, like they'd been waiting for this.
But there was one thing they hadn't banked on.
They hadn't counted on them.
Kael shifted mid-run—fur exploding out, turning into this hulking black wolf that crashed into enemy lines like a living freight train. His roar? Forget it. That sound could curdle steel, made even the toughest warriors flinch.
Liora—she was a blur, not so much fighting as haunting the battlefield. Her eyes glowed violet, blades flashing, moving with the kind of rage that doesn't care about dying.
Someone screamed her name. She spun, ducked, just as a mountain of a guy tried to turn her into paste with a warhammer. The ground cracked—she didn't. No hesitation.
She slit his throat and kept moving.
Kael, meanwhile, went full wrecking ball, smashing another wolf into the standing stones—bones crunched, someone howled.
"We need the Elders!" Liora yelled, sucking air, blood splattered across her neck. "They started this. They end it."
Kael nodded, wild-eyed. "Inner ring. We cut through."
Arrows rained down. Somebody shrieked, dropped to her knees with an arrow sticking out of her back.
Liora snatched the fallen's blade, hurled it like she was born for it—thunk, the archer was nailed to a tree thirty feet away.
Howl behind her.
Dante crashed back into view, soaked in blood, eyes burning.
"Seer's safe. North perimeter's falling apart!"
"Then we torch the north," Kael growled.
"No," Liora said, voice like ice. "We cleanse it."
The fight surged toward Hollowmere's ancient heart—stones in a perfect circle, all orbiting some altar that made even old Alphas nervous.
Elder Maelis stood there, moonlight painting him in silver, flanked by six enforcers—tattoos gleaming, eyes dead as winter.
Kael's curse-bringer.
Maelis grinned as they stormed up.
"Told the Council this was dumb. Letting you live? Mistake."
Liora stepped up. "So was betting we'd stay dead."
Maelis' eyes went all glow-worm. "You haven't got a clue, girl. You think this is prophecy? Love? You're a mistake. A twisted thread in fate's tapestry."
Kael's growl was low, thunderous. "You'll choke on your fate."
Maelis lifted a hand, and shadows geysered up from the ground.
Runes flared—enforcers fell back.
Chains of shadow snapped out, yanking Kael and Liora down, pinning them fast.
Pain. Not just ouch, but soul-deep agony.
Kael howled, muscles straining. Liora screamed, visions smashing into her brain—fire, blood, her mother's face.
Maelis knelt in front of her, cold as midnight. "Should've run. Your kind? Purged for a reason. You're not salvation. You're the end."
Liora's head slumped.
He reached for her forehead, fingers shining.
"Goodnight, little wolf—"
She looked up.
Her eyes? Not silver. Not violet.
White. Burning.
Chains shattered, runes went black, wind just—stopped.
Maelis reeled. "No. No, that's—"
Liora rose, slow and terrifying, like a hurricane about to drop.
"I'm not a mistake," she hissed.
"I'm what comes after."
And then she screamed.
Not a normal scream. This was moonlight turned into sound, death's own lullaby.
Wolves dropped to their knees. Enforcers clutched their heads, howling. Kael stared, wide-eyed—not scared, just floored.
Liora's skin blazed, silver threads crawling over her like living runes.
Energy blasted out from her, flattening everyone in the circle.
Except Kael.
He stood.
The curse he'd carried for years? Gone—cracked apart.
He took a breath, and for the first time in a decade, it didn't hurt.
Maelis tried to run.
Kael reached him first.
One strike. One roar.
Maelis' head hit the dirt, rolling across the stones.
Suddenly, everything stopped.
Wind came back.
Silence, heavy and absolute.
Liora dropped to her knees.
Kael snagged her before she hit the ground.
A couple hours later, chaos had chilled out a bit—wounded folks patched up, enemies either in chains or just... gone.
The Seer parked herself at the altar, fingers splayed on cold stone.
"The Shadowborn isn't death," she murmured, barely louder than a sigh. "She's balance. The Council's had things tipped their way for way too long. You? You just flipped the table."
Kael hovered nearby, head still spinning from that curse snapping like a cheap thread.
Liora was crashed out by the flames, Dante keeping an eye on her, just in case.
"She won't be the same," the Seer tossed over her shoulder. "Power screws with people."
"Yeah. I know."
"Will you still love her?"
Kael met her eyes.
"No," he said, dead serious.
"I'll love her even more."