Chapter 98

Chapter 98
Skylar’s POV

The world tilted the moment Skylar stepped through the shattered threshold of the old Thorn estate. The moment she crossed into the darkened corridor, every instinct in her screamed trap, but it was too late to turn back now. The air was thick with dampness, the scent of decayed wood and iron heavy in her lungs.

Her footsteps echoed eerily as she advanced. The mansion felt like a mausoleum, each creak and groan of its rotting structure whispering secrets from beyond. She gripped the dagger Damon had given her—silver-etched, blessed, humming with ancient magic. It vibrated faintly in her hand, reacting to something… or someone… nearby.

“Skylar,” a voice hissed.

She spun around.

Nothing.

Her breath hitched. The shadows seemed alive, shifting with malicious intent.

She pressed forward, whispering to herself, “You’ve faced worse. You’ve survived worse.”

But deep inside, she wasn’t sure she believed that anymore.

A sudden chill swept over her, crawling up her spine. Then a familiar energy surged ahead—Damon’s. She felt it like a tether snapping tight around her soul, guiding her through the darkness. He was close.

She burst through the arched doors of the drawing room—and froze.

Damon was on his knees, blood streaking his temple, his shirt torn, claws half-formed at his sides. A ring of crimson symbols encircled him, glowing with an unnatural light. Across from him, cloaked in black, stood Cassandra.

“You,” Skylar breathed, fury rising in her throat.

Cassandra’s head tilted slowly. “You just can’t stay away, can you?”

“What the hell did you do to him?”

Cassandra chuckled, a sound like nails against glass. “Oh, this? Just a little extraction ritual. Damon’s power—his birthright—belongs to me now. Or rather, it will. He’s been holding back the full shift. I’m going to help him.”

“By killing him?”

“By breaking him open,” she replied, eyes glinting with cruel joy.

Skylar stepped forward, the dagger raised. “Let him go. Now.”

Cassandra’s grin faded. “You can’t win this, Skylar. You’re strong, yes, but you’re not like us. You don’t belong here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Skylar said, stepping into the circle without fear.

The runes sparked as she entered, sizzling with blue fire—but they didn’t burn her. They flickered and then dimmed.

“What—?” Cassandra’s eyes widened. “No… that’s not possible.”

“I told you before,” Skylar said through gritted teeth. “I’m not afraid of you.”

She rushed Cassandra, steel flashing in the gloom. Their blades clashed—Skylar with her dagger, Cassandra with a blackened obsidian blade that hissed when it touched metal. Sparks flew, but Skylar didn’t stop. She parried, twisted, struck again. Cassandra met her every blow with deadly grace.

Behind them, Damon groaned, the circle weakening as Cassandra was forced to split her attention.

“I’m going to enjoy tearing you apart,” Cassandra snarled.

Skylar answered with a kick that sent the witch stumbling backward. “Try.”

A blast of dark energy erupted from Cassandra’s hands, slamming Skylar into a pillar. Pain flared down her spine, but she rolled and ducked just as another blast scorched the ground where she’d been. She hurled her dagger—it struck Cassandra in the shoulder.

The witch screamed.

“Damon!” Skylar yelled. “Break the seal! Now!”

Damon’s eyes fluttered open, glowing silver. He growled, claws scraping against the floor as he began to rise. The sigils sparked violently. His body trembled—then burst into flame. Not real fire, but energy, ancient and wild, leaping from his core.

With a roar, Damon shattered the circle.

Cassandra turned toward him, panic breaking through her mask of calm.

“Too late,” Skylar muttered.

Damon lunged.

His transformation was incomplete, but he was powerful enough. His fist caught Cassandra’s chest and sent her flying into the far wall, shattering bookshelves and glass. Her scream was cut off by the crash.

Skylar rushed to Damon’s side. His eyes met hers, haunted and feral, but full of recognition.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, steadying him.

The walls began to shake.

The mansion was collapsing.

“Go!” Damon rasped. “It’s coming down!”

“No!” Skylar protested. “Not without you!”

But his strength was fading. He stumbled, and Skylar hoisted his arm around her shoulders. Together they limped toward the exit, ducking falling beams and leaping over cracked flooring. Fire ignited somewhere behind them—Cassandra’s magic dying violently, taking the mansion with it.

They barely made it outside before the roof caved in behind them with a thunderous crash.

Skylar dragged Damon into the open field, panting, heart pounding.

They collapsed together on the grass, the smoldering ruins of the Thorn estate silhouetted against the night sky.

“I thought I lost you,” Skylar whispered.

“You almost did,” Damon croaked, wincing.

She turned toward him. “She wanted to steal your power. Was that what the prophecy warned about?”

“I think so,” Damon said. “But it’s not over. That wasn’t all of it.”

Skylar’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

Before he could answer, a chilling howl echoed across the woods.

Skylar froze. That howl… it wasn’t like Damon’s.

It was colder.

Feral.

Wrong.

“What the hell was that?” she whispered.

Damon looked toward the trees, blood draining from his face. “The others. The ones she awoke.”

Skylar turned toward the darkness, eyes narrowing. “Let them come.”

But even as she said it, a figure stepped out from the tree line—tall, humanoid, but twisted. Eyes glowing white. Skin marred with old scars. A smile that promised blood.

Skylar’s breath caught.

“Who—?” she started.

The figure answered in a voice that chilled her soul.

“I’m what’s left when the alpha fails.”

And then he charged.

The true enemy steps into the light, just as Skylar and Damon thought they had survived the worst.