The Curse Remains

The Curse Remains

Ayla
“I don’t think he is going to make it.”
Leona’s voice is quiet, but the way it cuts through the silence makes my heart drop. We all turn to her at once, me, Thane, Garrick, even Callum, who hasn’t spoken much since the battle ended. We’re sitting in one of the clinic rooms, bodies still recovering, minds still catching up to what just happened.
Thane doesn’t say anything right away. His jaw tightens as his hands ball into fists. He just stares at her like he’s waiting for her to say she’s kidding.
But she doesn’t.
“He’s fading,” she says, softer this time. “The curse… what Nadira did to him, combined with the fight, it’s too much. I don’t think he has much longer. You should prepare yourself.”
Thane blinks slowly. His face doesn’t change, but I feel it. That shift. The way something in him just… collapses. He gets up and leaves without a word.
I follow him, obviously.
“Thane.”
He doesn’t stop, just keeps walking, fast, like if he stops, he’ll fall apart. I jog to catch up and grab his arm. “Hey.”
He finally stops. Doesn’t look at me, though. Just stands there, breathing hard like he’s run a marathon.
“He was getting better,” he mutters. “He was getting better. We were gonna fix it.”
“I know.” I step closer. “But maybe this isn’t something we could fix.”
He looks at me then. His eyes are bloodshot, tired, but sharp. “He’s my father, Ayla. You know what that means to me.”
“I do,” I say quietly. “But you’ve done everything you could. You fought. You stood beside him. And now… maybe the hardest part is letting go.”
He laughs bitterly. “That’s not who I am.”
I shrug. “Maybe not. But it’s who you need to be right now.”
He stares at me a second longer, then pulls me into a hug. No words, just that raw silence that says everything.

The thing is… even with Nadira gone, nothing feels over. Not really.
The air is still giving off this weird, heavy energy and it smells wrong. Like metal. Like something old is still hanging around, watching.
And the sky, don’t get me started. It’s been hours since the fight ended, but the clouds haven’t cleared. They’re darker now, thicker, like a storm is building right above us but refusing to break. Thunder grumbles now and then, but it’s like it’s holding its breath.
Leona keeps saying it’s residue. Leftover magic. But it doesn’t feel like residue. It feels alive.
The wolves are restless. Some of the ones who used to follow Nadira are freaking out. Others are acting like nothing happened, like they’re ready to fall right back into their old toxic habits. Garrick’s trying to manage them, but even he looks unsure. Like he knows something we don’t.
And me? My chest is still glowing faintly, like something inside me hasn’t turned off. That golden energy, it burned through Nadira, I know that. But it’s still here. It’s humming under my skin like a warning. Like something’s unfinished.

Later, I find myself wandering through the pack. Alone.
Everyone’s too busy trying to process or patch up what’s left, and I… I don’t know what I’m looking for. Closure, maybe. Something to tell me this is over. But I end up back at the room Sage used to stay in.
The door’s half open. I hesitate, then push it all the way.
And immediately, I stop breathing.
There’s blood on the walls.
It’s dried now, old. But it’s everywhere—smeared in big, messy words. I step closer, heart pounding, and read them out loud without meaning to.
“She was only the beginning. The real danger sleeps beneath.”
What the hell does that mean?
There’s more. Smaller, messier. As if he was rushing or maybe already dying when he wrote it.
“If she falls… they wake. If she fails… we all fall.”
I stagger back, stomach twisting. “Thane,” I whisper. “Thane!”

We gather everyone in the common room. Leona. Callum. Garrick. Thane. Everyone who needs to hear this.
I show them the writing. No one speaks for a long time.
“What did Sage mean?” Callum finally says. “She was preparing for something?”
Garrick frowns. “I figured she was building toward something. But I thought it was just about controlling the packs.”
“No,” Leona says, rubbing her arms like she’s cold. “No, this goes deeper. She tapped into something ancient. I told you. Her magic wasn’t just hers. It was borrowed.”
“Borrowed from who?” I ask.
She looks at me, eyes dark. “From what was sealed long ago. Old gods. Spirits. Beings that were buried because they were too dangerous.”
I feel the hairs on my arms stand up. “So… what? Nadira dying didn’t stop them?”
“It might’ve triggered them,” Leona says.
Thane hasn’t spoken. He’s been silent the whole time. But now, he speaks, voice low.
“My father… he said something before I left his side.”
We all turn.
“He said… ‘The gods are waking.’”
I don’t even know what to say to that.
Everything’s quiet for a beat too long. Then Garrick mutters, “Well, shit.”
It’s the most honest thing anyone could say right now.
“So what do we do?” Callum says. “We just fought the worst witch in history, and now you’re telling me that was a warm-up?”
No one answers him.
My golden energy flares in my chest again. Hot. Sharp. I put a hand over it, trying not to panic.
“I don’t think this is over,” I whisper. “I think it’s just starting.”
Thane puts a hand on my back. “We’ll face it. Whatever it is. Together.”
I look up at him. He’s tired. Bleeding in some places. But still standing tall.
There’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen before. Not just loyalty. Not just care.
Something deeper. A pull.
And I feel it too.
I don’t say anything abo
ut it. Not now.
But later… maybe.
For now, I just nod.
“Together.”