Chapter 87 Ninety
“Do you really think you can walk back into this place alive?”
The voice was only in his mind, a memory more than a threat, but Ryder still jerked his head toward the darkness behind him. Only silence answered. Only the cold breath of the old tunnels curled around him, clinging to his skin like a reminder of everything he had lost.
He pressed his palm against the damp stone wall and drew in a slow breath. “I’m not here to survive,” he muttered. “I’m here for her.”
The tunnels beneath the Citadel were not meant for living men. They were cut centuries ago, before the Moon Throne existed, carved by claws and magic during the first Bloodline War. Ryder felt every inch of it pressing in on him now, the curse under his skin pulsing like something alive, something hungry.
His breath turned white in the air. The deeper he went, the colder it became. The curse reacted to the air down here, responding to the ancient runes carved into the walls, runes that once bound the wolf king he carried in his blood. His bones ached. His vision flickered. But he kept going.
He had no other choice.
The world above believed he was locked away. Cursed. Contained. A threat to everyone, especially to Sienna. He could still hear the chains snapping, still feel the way the seal tore open when he fled the dungeon. His escape wasn’t a miracle. It was desperation. The curse had guided him, dragging him toward the one person it wanted most.
Her.
Even now, her presence tugged at him. Faint. Fraying. Like a candle not yet extinguished but struggling to stay alight. He felt her fear. Her exhaustion. Her isolation.
She was in danger. That was all he knew.
A sharp burn crawled across his ribs. Ryder clenched his jaw as the curse surged again, pushing its claws up his spine. His eyes flashed gold. Sparks of crimson swirled in them.
“Not now,” he growled under his breath. “Not here.”
The curse didn’t listen. It never did. It pulsed like a second heartbeat, demanding he move closer to Sienna, demanding he claim what the goddess had forbidden him to touch.
He kept walking.
Ahead, faint torchlight spilled through the cracks in an old metal grate. Voices drifted through.
Guards.
Ryder slowed, the shadows closing protectively around him. He edged closer until the words sharpened.
“She hasn’t slept,” one guard murmured. “The Queen hasn’t left the Moon Temple since yesterday.”
Ryder’s pulse kicked hard. Sienna. Moon Temple.
Another guard exhaled sharply. “Can you blame her? That place feels cursed now. The air changes when she walks through it. Gives me chills.”
“Not just you,” the first replied. “The priestesses say something followed her out. Something old.”
Ryder felt the temperature drop again. His curse reacted instantly, slashing him from the inside with cold fire.
“What did they see?” someone whispered.
A pause.
“Her shadow moved before she did.”
Ryder’s throat tightened.
He pushed a hand into the rusted grate and bent the bars wide enough to slip through. The metal groaned, and the guards stiffened, turning quickly. Ryder was faster. He pressed himself against the stone and waited, breath measured, heart steady despite the curse clawing through him.
One guard lifted his torch toward the grate. The light brushed across Ryder’s silhouette, but shadows ate the glow instantly. The curse wrapped around him like a second skin, hiding him, blocking even the scent of his presence.
“Probably rats,” the guard muttered. “Let’s go. They want extra patrols near the garden wall.”
Garden wall. That led directly to Sienna’s chambers.
Ryder’s jaw clenched. He waited until their steps faded. Then he stepped out from behind the pillar and rose to his full height. He was taller than most guards, broader too, his body shaped by years of battles he no longer remembered clearly. His hair fell into his eyes, dark curls brushing his jawline. His face was pale from the curse, sharper now, as if the darkness carved him into something not fully human.
He wiped dust from his hands and moved down the torchlit corridor with quiet, predatory grace.
The Citadel had changed. Or perhaps he had.
The hallway he entered once held banners of silver and blue. Now the colors were dull, the fabric torn in places. The air smelled of incense and fear. Even the marble floors felt colder beneath his boots.
He remembered walking these halls beside Sienna once. Her laughter had filled the air back then, soft and warm, like spring weaving itself into stone. She used to tease him about how serious he always looked. She used to touch his cheek when no one was watching, grounding him, reminding him he was still a man and not the monster the curse tried to make him.
Now, every memory cut deeper.
His hand brushed against the stone wall as he moved. It trembled faintly. The wards of the palace felt disturbed. Wounded. Someone had tampered with the magic in the Citadel, and he didn’t like the way it hummed beneath his fingertips.
Ahead, he saw two more guards patrolling. He stepped back into the shadows again and listened.
“The Queen didn’t speak to anyone today,” one said. “Only walked the Moon Bridge twice. Like she was looking for something.”
“Or someone,” the other replied grimly. “You heard the rumors. They say she’s sensing him again.”
Ryder felt his heartbeat shift. They meant him.
“Sensing him?” the first guard scoffed. “He’s chained underground. Locked away forever. He can’t reach her.”
“You think chains can hold the cursed one? After everything that happened?”
After everything he had done.
The conversation twisted like a knife inside him. Ryder forced himself to breathe slowly, quietly, letting the curse settle before it flared too violently.
He waited until the guards rounded the corner before moving again. His steps were quick now, more urgent. He followed the faint pull of her presence, moving through narrow passages only old soldiers remembered. The Citadel had been built on layers of history, some of it holy, some of it drenched in blood. Ryder passed cracked stone tablets, moon sigils carved centuries ago, and shattered statues of forgotten kings.
Every part of this place whispered Sienna’s name.
He reached the final tunnel before the garden entrance. Roots crawled through the ceiling overhead, reaching for the floor like skeletal fingers. Water dripped steadily from ancient cracks. The scent of damp soil and moon lilies drifted in from the garden ahead.
He stopped walking.
The curse rose inside him so sharply he staggered, one hand braced on the wall, the other gripping his ribs.
A vision slammed into him without warning.
Sienna on the floor, her gown stained with blood. Her eyes wide, her lips struggling to form his name. Her hand reaching out as a shadow dragged her away.
Ryder gasped and nearly fell to his knees. The vision faded, but the echo of her scream stayed lodged in his ears.
“Lunaris,” he whispered. “What are you doing to her?”
The curse answered with another jolt of pain. His breath shook. His entire body trembled as the vision lingered behind his eyes.
She was in danger. Not could be. Not maybe.
She was in danger.
He wiped a trembling hand across his face, steadying himself. “Hold on,” he murmured softly. “I’m coming.”
He stepped toward the garden entrance, and froze.
Footsteps. Dozens of them. Fast. Coming his way.
He backed into the shadows just as a full patrol swept through the hallway. Torches flickered. The metallic clatter of armor filled the corridor. In the center walked a man Ryder recognized , Captain Eamon, tall, scarred, loyal only to Sienna.
“Search every corridor,” Eamon barked. “Something breached the wards. I want every entrance secured.”
Breached. Not someone.
Something.
Ryder’s blood ran cold.
He waited, breath still, until Eamon moved past.
Then he slipped into the garden.
Moonlight washed over him immediately, silver and cold. The air was heavy with the scent of roses, the petals trembling from the night wind. He stood among the archways of vines, breath unsteady, gaze fixed on the garden path leading toward Sienna’s private quarters.
His heart pounded once, sharp and heavy.
He wasn’t alone.
Something watched him from the farthest arch. Something old. Something not human.
Ryder lifted his chin, eyes narrowing.
And then he felt it.
A presence. A shift in the air. A cold breath on the back of his neck.
Sienna wasn’t the only one being hunted tonight.