The sanctuary did not hold them for long.
Dawn had barely broken when the bond woke them both at once, sharp and urgent. Alix sat up first, heart pounding. Donstram was already on his feet, sword in hand, listening to the silence outside. No birds. No wind. Just the heavy stillness that comes before violence.
"They found us," he said quietly.
Alix nodded. She felt it too: a ripple through the bond, distant but growing. Many presences. Armored. Angry. The king's hunters had finally tracked them to this forgotten place.
They dressed quickly, gathering what little they had. The fire had died to embers; the room looked colder in the pale light. Donstram paused at the doorway, looking back at the spot where they had lain together only hours before.
"Regret it?" Alix asked softly.
He met her eyes. "Never."
They slipped out through a side passage, moving low through the ruined halls. The monastery was a maze of collapsed corridors and hidden stairways. Alix led, trusting the faint pull of old magic that still lingered in the stones. Donstram covered their rear, every sense alert.
They emerged on the far side of the complex just as shouts echoed behind them. Torchlight flickered in the courtyard they had left. Too close.
"Run," Donstram said.
They ran.
The hills gave way to a steep descent into a narrow ravine. The ground was loose shale; rocks skittered underfoot. At the bottom lay a dry riverbed, its banks lined with jagged black stones that looked almost like teeth. In the center stood a single obelisk, tall and cracked, covered in faded runes that pulsed faintly purple.
Alix slowed. "There."
Donstram glanced back. "We don't have time."
"We do. This is it. The shattered prophecy."
The obelisk was ancient, its surface etched with symbols that seemed to shift when you looked away. At its base lay fragments of what had once been a stone tablet, broken into three large pieces. The runes on them glowed the same purple as the obelisk itself.
Alix knelt, touching the first fragment. The moment her fingers brushed the stone, the bond flared. Visions slammed into them both.
A throne room in flames. A king and a coven leader standing together, hands joined in alliance. Then betrayal: daggers, blood, a curse screamed into existence. But woven into the curse was a prophecy, spoken in desperation by the dying coven leader.
"When blood of traitor and betrayed mingle willingly, when love defies the chains of solitude, the curse shall shatter. But only if the forsaken tear is given, and the heart of the betrayer is offered in turn."
The vision ended. Alix gasped, pulling her hand back. Donstram was breathing hard beside her, eyes wide.
"That's the prophecy," she whispered. "The one we need to shatter."
Donstram stared at the fragments. "It says the heart of the betrayer."
Alix looked at him. "My coven betrayed yours. My bloodline is the betrayer."
He shook his head. "No. My father made the alliance knowing the risks. He betrayed his own council by trusting witches. The betrayal runs both ways."
She reached for his hand. "Then we both qualify."
Before he could answer, hoofbeats thundered above them.
The hunters had found the ravine.
Donstram pulled Alix behind the obelisk. "Take the fragments. We run."
She gathered the three pieces quickly, wrapping them in a strip torn from her cloak. They were heavier than they looked, humming with power.
They sprinted along the dry riverbed. Arrows whistled past them, striking stone. One grazed Donstram's shoulder; he grunted but didn't slow.
At the end of the ravine the ground rose sharply into a thick wood. They plunged into the trees, branches whipping their faces. The hunters followed, crashing through underbrush.
Alix felt the bond straining under the strain of running. Pain from Donstram's shoulder echoed in her own. She pushed strength toward him anyway. He accepted it this time without protest.
They burst into a small clearing. In the center stood an ancient willow, its trunk massive, roots sprawling like fingers. Alix stopped.
"Here," she said. "We make our stand."
Donstram nodded. They turned, weapons ready.
The hunters poured into the clearing. Fifteen this time. The captain rode at the front, visor raised. His face was scarred, eyes cold.
"End of the road," he called. "Surrender, and the king may grant you quick deaths."
Donstram laughed. "Tell your king to come beg for them himself."
The captain signaled. The hunters dismounted, forming a circle.
Alix stepped forward. "You serve a king who fears what he cannot control. You serve a lie."
The captain sneered. "And you serve darkness."
"No," she said softly. "I serve freedom."
She lifted the wrapped fragments. The purple glow seeped through the cloth.
The hunters hesitated.
Donstram moved beside her. "Last chance to walk away."
The captain drew his sword. "Take them."
The fight was chaos.
Donstram met the first three soldiers in a blur of steel. Alix summoned vines and shadows, binding and slicing. They fought back-to-back, the bond making them a single unit. When one was struck, the other felt it. When one struck true, the other felt the satisfaction.
Blood soaked the ground. Men fell.
The captain came for Alix.
He was fast. Trained. His blade whistled toward her throat. She blocked with shadows, but he pressed, forcing her back.
Donstram saw it. Roared. He cut down the man in front of him and lunged toward the captain.
Too late.
The captain's sword sliced across Alix's stomach.
Pain exploded.
She dropped to her knees. Blood poured between her fingers.
Donstram reached her, caught her before she fell. His face was pale, eyes wild.
"No," he whispered. "No."
The bond screamed. His pain, her pain, shared and unbearable.
The captain raised his sword for the killing blow.
Donstram stood over her, sword dripping. "Touch her and die."
The captain hesitated.
Alix gripped Donstram's arm. "The fragments. Now."
He understood.
He placed the three pieces on the ground beside her. The purple light flared brighter.
Alix pressed her bloody hand to them. "I offer my heart. The betrayer's heart. Willingly."
Donstram placed his hand over hers. "And mine. The betrayed. Willingly."
The light exploded.
The fragments rose, spinning. The runes burned white. The willow's roots surged upward, wrapping around the pieces, pulling them together.
The curse screamed—a sound like tearing metal.
Then silence.
The light faded. The fragments fell, whole again. The tablet was restored.
Alix felt the bond shift. Not break. Change.
The isolation that had defined her soul eased. Not gone, but lighter. Manageable.
She looked at Donstram. Tears streaked his face.
"You didn't die," he whispered.
"Neither did you."
He pulled her into his arms, heedless of the blood, heedless of the remaining hunters who stood frozen.
The captain lowered his sword slowly. "The curse... it's broken?"
Alix nodded weakly. "The prophecy is fulfilled."
The captain stared at them for a long moment. Then he sheathed his blade. "The king will hear of this."
He turned. The hunters followed.
They were alone.
Donstram pressed his forehead to hers. "You scared me."
"Good," she whispered. "Means you care."
He laughed, shaky. "I love you."
The words landed soft and certain.
Alix smiled through tears. "I love you too."
Unique insight bloomed in the quiet aftermath: A curse could only endure as long as those it bound believed they deserved it. The moment they chose love over punishment, the chains dissolved. Not through magic alone, but through the simplest, most powerful act: choosing each other.
The willow rustled overhead, leaves whispering in the breeze.
For the first time in years, the world felt safe.