Luna slept fitfully, her breaths shallow, her body restless even in exhaustion.
I didn't sleep.
I sat with my back against the broken stone wall, blade resting across my knees, eyes fixed on the doorway where darkness pooled like a living thing. Every sound set my nerves on edge. Every shift of shadow felt deliberate.
The mark was quiet.
That frightened me more than the screams.
I reached for Luna's wrist carefully, peeling back the bandage just enough to see the skin beneath. The mark lay dormant, its jagged lines faint but unmistakable like something waiting for permission to wake.
When my fingers brushed her skin, it pulsed once.
Soft. Almost relieved.
Luna stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "You're still here," she whispered.
"I told you I wouldn't leave."
She pushed herself up slowly, wincing as the movement tugged at her wrist. Instinctively, I steadied her, my hand firm at her waist. She froze at the contact.
"So that's it," she murmured.
"What?"
"When you touch me… it calms it."
I frowned. "That's not possible."
She swallowed. "It is. I can feel the difference."
The mark responded again, a faint warmth spreading beneath my palm. The curse beneath my skin reacted too not violently, not angrily but with recognition.
Connection.
I pulled my hand away sharply.
Her eyes lifted to mine, confused. "Why did you stop?"
"Because if it works," I said quietly, "then it works both ways."
Understanding dawned slowly across her face. Fear followed close behind.
"He can feel it too," she whispered.
"Yes."
Silence stretched between us, heavy and intimate. Outside, the forest creaked softly, branches shifting like bones.
"So what do we do?" she asked.
I stood, pacing once before stopping in front of her. "We stop hiding."
Her breath caught. "You mean go toward him?"
"I know where his scouts come from," I said. "I've been avoiding that direction for years."
"Years?" she echoed.
"I wasn't ready," I admitted. "I am now."
She rose unsteadily to her feet. "Then I'm coming with you."
"No."
The word came out sharper than I intended.
She straightened despite the weakness in her legs. "You don't get to decide that."
"I'm deciding because I won't let him use you," I snapped. "Because if you're near me, he'll"
"Use you instead?" she cut in. "He already is."
The truth stung because it was undeniable.
She stepped closer, close enough that I could feel her warmth, her pulse. "I won't survive running forever," she said softly. "But I might survive standing with you."
My jaw tightened.
"You don't know what standing with me costs."
"I think I do," she said, placing her hand over my heart. "And I'm still here."
The mark flared gently.
Not pain.
Approval.
Something shifted in the air then a pressure, subtle but unmistakable. The forest outside grew too still again.
I turned sharply toward the doorway.
"We're not alone."
The mark ignited.
Luna cried out, collapsing against me as heat surged through her veins. I caught her, gripping her tightly as the glow spread lines extending, twisting into a symbol I recognized with sick certainty.
A path.
A direction.
"He's guiding us," I whispered. "He's stopped chasing."
"Because he knows we'll follow," she breathed.
The ground trembled faintly beneath our feet. Not from impact but from distance. Something massive moving far away.
Calling.
I lifted Luna into my arms without hesitation. "Hold on to me."
She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her face against my shoulder. Her lips brushed my skin as she whispered, "Don't let go."
"I won't," I promised.
We stepped out of the ruin and into the forest.
The trees seemed to bend inward as we passed, shadows stretching unnaturally long. The path ahead glowed faintly only to us, the mark burning just enough to guide our steps.
After a while, Luna shifted in my arms. "You're bleeding again."
"I don't feel it."
She touched my jaw, forcing me to look at her. "You will. Later."
Her thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, tender despite the danger pressing in around us. My breath hitched before I could stop it.
"This is madness," I murmured.
"Yes," she said. "But it's ours."
I leaned down, pressing my forehead to hers as we walked. "If we survive this…"
"When," she corrected softly.
"When," I agreed, "things won't be simple."
"They never were."
Ahead, through the thinning trees, something emerged.
Stone.
Blackened. Carved.
A structure older than memory, etched with symbols I hadn't seen in two decades symbols burned into my nightmares.
Mark's sigil.
The mark on Luna's wrist burned hot, brighter than it ever had before.
She gasped. "He's here."
"No," I said, setting her down carefully. "He's close."
A voice drifted through the trees, no longer distant, no longer amused.
"Welcome," Mark said softly. "I was wondering when you'd stop pretending you could escape."
I stepped forward, placing myself between Luna and the darkness.
"This ends," I said.
Laughter echoed, warm and cruel.
"Oh no," Mark replied. "This is where it finally begins."
The shadows surged.
And we walked straight into them.