Chapter 103

Chapter 103
Rhea lay motionless, encased in silver light that shimmered like frost under moonlight. The magical chains pulsed faintly, their energy barely holding her. Skylar could feel them weakening with every heartbeat. The nightmare was feeding on her hesitation, twisting the link between Rhea’s soul and the darkness that had infected her.

Damon stood at the edge of the fissure now, eyes locked on the glowing red light seeping from the crack. “It’s not going to stop,” he said grimly. “Not until we sever its link to our world completely.”

Skylar’s throat was raw from screaming the incantation. Her hands trembled from the strain of the binding spell. And yet, the moment her eyes drifted back to Rhea, guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave.

“I didn’t want to do that to her,” Skylar whispered.

“I know,” Damon said. “But you saved her. For now. She’s still in there, Sky. She begged us to stop her—remember that.”

A gust of hot wind erupted from the fissure, spraying ash and a strange scent—like burning roses and blood. Shadows coiled around the edges of the rift, reaching outward, brushing against rocks and trees. Wherever they touched, decay spread—grass blackened, bark peeled from trunks, the very air grew cold.

“We don’t have much time,” Damon said. “If that thing fully emerges, it’ll spread to the others. To the children. The town.”

Skylar’s heart clenched. Her triplets—Mia, Eli, and Rowan—were back at the cabin, under the watch of the older wolves. They had no idea what was coming. No idea how close the nightmare had come to touching their world.

“There has to be something in the Sealed Temple,” she said. “You mentioned it. Your mother believed it could hold back… anything.”

Damon nodded. “It’s ancient. Hidden beyond the Black Hills, deep within the Vale of Echoes. No one’s returned from there in decades.”

“Then we’ll be the first,” Skylar said. “We have to.”

A sudden burst of energy from Rhea’s bound form cut through the air. The chains sparked violently. Rhea’s eyes snapped open—still golden, but filled with terror.

“It’s—” she choked out, straining against the magic, “—it’s trying to use me as a gate.”

Damon cursed. “That’s how it’s getting through. Not just the crack in the ground—it’s using her as a vessel.”

Skylar turned, realization dawning. “If it finishes the possession… if it takes Rhea fully…”

“…it won’t need the fissure anymore,” Damon finished. “She is the door.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning.

“We need to seal it,” Skylar said. “Seal the crack, stop the corruption, and keep it from using Rhea.”

Damon looked toward the shadows oozing from the fissure. “That’s going to take a lot more power than we’ve got left.”

Skylar knelt beside Rhea, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “Then we use the ley line.”

Rhea’s eyes widened. “You’ll die.”

“Not if you help me,” Skylar said. “You’re still in there, Rhea. I know it. I can anchor to you. With your will and mine together—we can do this.”

Damon’s eyes flared gold. “Sky, no. That ley line is volatile. You’ve seen what happens when it’s abused.”

“I’m not abusing it,” she said, voice steady. “I’m asking for its help.”

Skylar reached down and placed her palm against the earth. She felt the thrum of magic beneath the surface—wild, raw, older than memory. It called to her blood, recognizing the descendant of the First Moon Matron. She whispered the ancient invocation, words she’d barely dared speak before.

The ground beneath her hand lit up with symbols—ancient sigils that spiraled outward in a glowing circle. The forest trembled. The shadows recoiled.

Rhea screamed as the chains around her pulsed violently, magic clashing with the nightmare inside her.

Skylar kept her focus. “Rhea! You need to let me in!”

Through the agony, Rhea nodded. “Do it!”

Skylar closed her eyes and pushed her spirit forward, plunging through the ley line, down into the tether that bound Rhea to the nightmare.

What she found was a battlefield.

Inside Rhea’s soul, light and darkness waged war. The nightmare had built a fortress—twisting her memories, her pain, her fears. Skylar saw echoes of their childhood: Rhea crying alone in the woods after a punishment, Rhea shielding Skylar from bullies, Rhea standing over her during a fever. But they were distorted, infected.

A massive shadow loomed in the center, crowned in fire and bone.

“You cannot have her,” it growled, voice reverberating like thunder through a canyon.

“She’s not yours,” Skylar shouted, and her magic flared in the dreamscape, taking the form of radiant silver blades.

The nightmare lunged.

Skylar met it head-on, her will a spear of burning resolve. Behind her, Rhea’s true form flickered—hurt, scared, but still standing. And slowly, as Skylar fought, Rhea began to push back.

“Get out of me!” Rhea screamed.

With one final surge, they drove the nightmare out.

Back in the real world, Rhea convulsed, the dark mist pouring from her mouth like smoke from a dying fire. Skylar fell back, gasping, tears streaming down her face.

The fissure screamed.

A blast of dark energy shot into the sky from the crack, as if the creature below felt its connection sever. It shrieked in rage.

Damon didn’t hesitate. He leapt to Skylar’s side. “Now! While it’s weakened!”

Skylar raised her hand again, channeling the last of the ley line’s energy. With Damon grounding her and Rhea adding her recovered strength, they funneled it directly into the chasm.

The earth shook violently. The crack began to close, stone grinding against stone, magic sealing the evil beneath.

Just as it began to settle, a hand—massive, skeletal, wrapped in black tendrils—shot from the chasm and grabbed the edge.

Skylar’s scream tore through the forest. “It’s still coming!”

Damon grabbed her hand. “Sky—channel everything! We end this now!”

The three of them locked power, Rhea screaming as she poured her soul into the blast.

The hand was forced back—inch by inch—until the chasm slammed shut with a deafening boom, sealing the monster within.

Silence returned.

But not for long.

The ground hissed.

A thin black crack spread again… slowly.

From beneath, a whisper.

“You delay the inevitable… but I am patient. And I will return.”