Chapter 77: The Ruins Trembled
The ruins trembled.
The air was thick with magic, pulsing like a heartbeat beneath Isla’s feet. Around her, the battle raged, Damian’s wolves tearing through Vincent’s warriors, blades clashing, roars and howls splitting the night.
But she couldn’t move because she remembered, flashes of a life that wasn’t hers and yet, she was reliving it vividly. A woman standing beneath a blood-red moon, golden eyes burning like fire. A name whispered through time. A promise carved into the bones of the earth.
The first wolves. Her ancestors. Her bloodline.
Vincent stood at the center of it all, his golden eyes locked onto hers and for the first time, she understood.
“This was never about war,” she breathed.
Vincent smiled. “No, this was about you.”
A force surged through her veins, ancient and undeniable. The markings on the stone glowed brighter, their light snaking up her arms, pressing against her skin like a lover’s touch.
Power. It recognized her. It belonged to her and Vincent knew it. He lifted his hand, palm outstretched. “Awaken it, Isla. Give it to me.”
A snarl ripped from Damian’s throat. In a flash, he was there, his blade slicing through the air, aiming straight for Vincent’s throat. But Vincent vanished. Not like a man dodging a strike like a shadow dispersing. Damian’s sword struck empty space, and Isla’s pulse pounded as realization hit.
Vincent wasn’t just after her power. He was tied to it and he had been waiting for her to set him free.
A roar of pain yanked Isla’s attention back to the battle.Leo had gone down, blood staining his side. Magnus fought near him, fangs bared, his movements slower than usual. They were losing because while Vincent’s warriors bled like any other men, the ones cloaked in darkness, the ones infused with whatever magic he had stolen, they weren’t dying. Not by steel, not by claws and by anything mortal.
A terrible thought struck her. They were bound to this place. To her bloodline’s power, which meant…
She turned, eyes locking onto Damian’s. “We have to break the ritual.”
His expression was fierce, sweat and blood streaked across his face. “How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
But she could feel it. The energy curling around her like a storm, whispering to her in a language she shouldn’t understand but somehow did.
Vincent had been trying to control this magic. Trying to own it. But it wasn’t his. It never had been. It was hers. She took a breath. Then she reached for it. The moment she did, the world shattered.
The ruins erupted in golden fire.
The force of it knocked everyone off their feet, Damian, Magnus, Leo, even the enemy warriors. The earth cracked open, light pouring through the seams like molten gold.
Isla felt it. The power surging from the stones, the echoes of the first wolves howling through her bones and through it all, Vincent laughed.
“Yes!” His voice rang through the night. “Finally!”
The shadows clinging to his form surged forward, reaching for her. But Isla knew now. This power didn’t belong to him. It never would. She lifted her hands, and the golden fire answered her call. It burned through the darkness, searing away the magic Vincent had stolen, unraveling the bindings he had placed on his warriors.
The enemy forces collapsed. The air grew still and Vincent staggered. For the first time, he staggered. His golden eyes widened in something dangerously close to fear.
Isla stepped toward him, her voice steady.
“This ends now.”
Vincent exhaled a slow breath, then he smiled.
“Not yet.”
And then he disappeared. Not in shadow this time, but in light.
Silence settled over the battlefield. The ruins still hummed with energy, but the storm had passed.
Damian was at her side in an instant, his hand curling around her wrist, grounding her.
“Are you alright?” His voice was low, rough.
She turned to him, and something in her chest broke.
The weight of everything crashed into her all at once, the battle, the memories and the raw power still singing beneath her skin.
So she did the only thing she could. She grabbed onto him. Damian pulled her in without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her, his body solid and warm
and real.
His lips brushed against her temple, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s over.”
But Isla wasn’t so sure because even as she clung to him, her heart still pounded with something deeper than fear. Something raw, alive and growing and she wasn’t just talking about the power inside her. She pressed a trembling hand to her stomach and for the first time, she just knew.
She wasn’t just changing. She wasn’t just awakening. She was carrying something new and whatever came next… she wouldn’t be facing it alone.