Chapter 11 THE FIRST NIGHT'S WATCH
Serra's foot slipped on the cold stone floor as she was dragged into the center of the Silver Falls Temple. The roar of the waterfall was so deafening that it was impossible to hear Dorian’s words. But she didn't need her ears. The pressure of Dorian’s hand on her arm transmitted a clear message to her mind: We are in danger.
Dorian finally released her and stood with his back to the waterfall. The dense moisture dripped from his hair and clothes. Even from a few steps away, Serra could see the seal on Dorian’s chest twitching restlessly beneath his shirt.
"Damn it," Dorian spoke through his teeth, his voice mingling with the roar of the waterfall. His muscles were rigid, fighting the environment.
Serra walked towards him. "What does this dampness have to do with your curse?" she asked, her voice slightly strained. "Bunker aside, isn't this place supposed to be a sacred sanctuary?"
Dorian grimaced. "This is a place that tortures me every moment I try to keep my curse contained. Our Founding Alphas knew that damp air suppresses an Alpha's power when it spirals out of control. This air isn't constricting my seal; it's loosening it. It makes the seal elastic. The moment I have a surge of adrenaline, it could snap. Marius doesn't need more than an ambush. He just needs to wait for my strength to fade."
A cold realization spread through Serra. Marius's trap was more nuanced than she expected. Marius wasn't just sending agents; he was using the environment itself.
"Where will we hide?" Serra asked. "We can't sleep here. You could lose control within the hour."
Dorian scanned the ancient stones carved around the temple. "Although the Pack believes this place is only for the Luna and Alpha, there’s a small bunker room beneath the old temple. Some of the ritual texts might be there."
Dorian walked around a massive stone altar near the temple's edge. He pointed to a sealed stone lid beneath the altar. Together, they applied their strength to lift the cover. The sealed stone opened with a heavy screech, and a blast of damp, cold air hit their faces.
"You go first," Dorian ordered. "I will check the outside. Marius's agents must be brave to wait in such a sacred place."
Serra instinctively held back, her inner Red Alpha pushing against the command. "Together," she said. "If we separate, we become vulnerable to ambush."
Dorian hesitated for a moment but ceded to Serra's logic. Together, they descended into the bunker. The room was small, damp, and smelled of centuries of forgetfulness.
(THE SIGNS OF THE FIRST NIGHT)
In the dim light of the bunker, Dorian stood with his back against the wall. Serra controlled the air currents around them. At that moment, her eye caught a barely visible line on the wall right beside the bunker entrance.
"Dorian," Serra whispered. "Look at that."
The wall was made of ancient clay, but the line was different. It was new. Serra traced the line with her finger. The line marked the placement of a very thin wire concealed within the wall.
"A trap," Dorian whispered. "Marius's agents were here before us."
Dorian leaned down and pulled the wire. It ran from the entrance and ended at the back wall of the bunker. A small, wooden box was attached to the wall where the wire terminated.
"What's inside?" Serra asked.
Dorian opened the box. Inside was a bag of sand with strange symbols on it and a handwritten note.
"It’s not magic," Dorian said, quickly reading the note. "It’s a note about my power constraint. It lists the exact humidity levels that threaten the seal. Marius is using this environment as his primary weapon."
Serra took the box from Dorian's hand. She examined the symbols on the sandbag. "It's a warning system. But why so... primitive? Marius wouldn't rely on such a weak trap."
"It's a delaying tactic," Dorian explained, his eyes sharp. "Something to waste our time and split our focus."
Just then, a faint rustling sound was heard through the stone lid of the bunker entrance.
It was as if someone was moving in the temple right outside the bunker.
Dorian and Serra looked at each other simultaneously. It wasn't an ambush. It was surveillance.
"They're down there," Dorian breathed. His seal began to burn on his chest.
Serra took a step toward Dorian. "What was our role, Alpha?" she asked, her voice firm. "Remember. You are my fiancée, consumed by passion. If they are listening..."
Serra gripped Dorian's arms. Her face moved closer to his neck. "We must make them believe we found a better place to consummate our passion—and that we are too lost in each other to worry about wires and notes."
"We play now, Dorian. We play hard. Otherwise, this bunker will be our grave tonight."