Chapter 10 Records of the Damned
Kael led the way back through the fortress with a pace that bordered on a controlled sprint—fast enough to show urgency, slow enough not to alarm the entire pack.
Lina kept up easily, though every step still buzzed with leftover energy from holding the border. Her fingertips tingled. Her magic hummed. Her wolf stayed alert, ears pricked toward the distant forest.
Whatever had watched them was gone for now.
But not gone.
Riven trailed behind them, muttering, “I’m just saying, if that thing pops up inside the walls, I’m moving to another kingdom.”
Kael didn’t bother answering.
When they reached the Alpha’s private hall—the room filled with floating lanterns and relics of old magic—Kael shut the door firmly behind them.
“Riven, stay at the door. No interruptions.”
“Gladly,” Riven said, planting himself like a barrier.
Lina stepped forward, eyes drawn to the nearest lantern. The glowing orbs drifted slowly through the air, each one containing fragments of a past long buried.
“What exactly are we looking for?” she asked.
Kael moved to a table stacked with old scrolls, binding cloth peeling with age. “Anything with a description of the Veil. Or what lived beyond it.”
Lina swallowed. “You think they knew?”
“My father didn’t,” Kael said. “But my grandfather… maybe.”
“Your grandfather led the attack,” Lina said quietly.
Kael’s hand paused. He didn’t look at her. “Yes.”
“And he kept the story alive that we were traitors.”
“He kept many stories alive,” Kael said. “Not all of them true.”
Lina looked at him. “You’re not him.”
His jaw eased. A fraction. “I hope not.”
Silence settled between them—not heavy, but aware, threaded with the bond they were both pretending not to feel.
Lina turned from him and focused on the lanterns.
She reached toward one containing a cracked piece of metal—an amulet split in two, etched with a symbol she vaguely recognized. As her fingers brushed the air around it, the lantern glowed brighter.
Kael stiffened. “Did it react to you?”
Lina nodded. “It recognizes my bloodline.”
“You can sense that?” he asked.
“My magic can. Touching old relics is like touching echoes.” She tilted her head. “This one feels… afraid.”
Kael frowned. “Afraid of what?”
“Of what destroyed it.”
She lowered her hand and moved on.
Another lantern drifted closer, containing a piece of parchment rolled tight. Lina lifted it gently. “This feels Valerius.”
Kael hurried to her side. “Open it.”
The parchment unfurled with a soft crackle.
Inside was a drawing—rough but detailed. A circle of trees. A sigil in the center. And beneath it, a word written in a script only she could read.
Her blood went cold.
Kael leaned in. “What does it say?”
Lina swallowed. “It’s not a name. It’s a warning.”
“What kind?”
She pointed to the sigil. “This is the mark of the Ravaged Ones.”
Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Ravaged?”
“It means they were once something… else.” Lina traced the sigil, her finger trembling slightly. “Something alive. Something pure. And then the Veil twisted them.”
Kael’s voice dropped. “Twisted how?”
“Into predators.”
Her voice barely carried above a whisper.
“Predators that don’t hunt flesh. They hunt memory. Identity. They devour what makes you you.”
Riven shivered from across the room. “That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
Kael’s expression hardened. “You think that’s what we saw?”
Lina looked at the drawing again—the swirling darkness, the faint suggestion of eyes hidden within it.
“Yes,” she said. “Or the beginning of one.”
Kael paced, running a hand across his mouth. “How did your father fight these things?”
“He didn’t fight them alone,” she said. “The forest helped. The witches helped. My tribe held the line because the Veil was strongest where we lived.”
“And now,” Kael said quietly, “it’s weakest where we stand.”
The truth settled like a cold wind through the room.
“We need more than drawings,” Kael said. “There must be a record of how to kill them.”
Lina shook her head. “You don’t kill them.”
“Then what do you do?” Riven asked.
“You trap them. Contain them. Push them back through the Veil before they consume everything.”
Kael pressed his palms to the table. “Show me how.”
Lina hesitated. “My tribe passed the knowledge down orally. I only learned fragments.”
“Fragments are enough,” Kael said.
Lina’s throat tightened. “What if I remember wrong? What if I break something instead of fixing it?”
Kael stepped closer—slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild creature that could vanish.
“You won’t,” he said softly.
“You sound very sure.”
“I am.”
She searched his face, trying to understand how someone could offer trust so freely when she’d barely earned it.
Her wolf whispered.
He feels the bond whether he admits it or not.
Lina looked away first.
Kael cleared his throat. “What do we do next?”
She forced her focus back to the scroll. “We need three things to strengthen the Veil long enough to understand it.”
Kael straightened. “Tell me.”
“One,” she said, “a relic tied to the original spell.”
Kael gestured at the lanterns. “Take anything you need.”
“Two,” Lina continued, “a focus of power. Most likely a living wolf with strong lineage.”
Riven groaned. “Oh great.”
Kael crossed his arms. “Why not me?”
Lina’s eyes flicked toward him. “Because you’re the Alpha. If something goes wrong—”
“I can handle it.”
“It’s not your body I’m worried about,” she said quietly. “It’s your wolf.”
That made him pause.
“And three,” Lina finished, “we need a place where the boundary between worlds is thin enough for magic to connect.”
Kael raised a brow. “The old border?”
“No,” Lina said. “Closer.”
“How much closer?”
She exhaled slowly.
Her pulse thudded.
“Inside the fortress,” she said. “There’s a place your ancestors sealed off. You showed me the hall of relics—the room where the moon sigil is carved on the door?”
Kael’s eyes widened.
“You mean the inner sanctum.”
Lina nodded. “The Veil once brushed against this fortress itself. That door marks where the magic used to seep through.”
Riven stared. “We built the fortress on top of a rip in reality?!”
Kael rubbed his temples. “Of course we did.”
Lina stepped closer to Kael, lowering her voice. “Your ancestors sealed it. But seals can weaken. And if this thing tests the wall again…”
Kael finished for her:
“It’ll come through the softest point.”
The air shifted.
Kael and Lina locked eyes.
“We go now,” Kael said.
Lina nodded. “Before the border weakens again.”
Riven groaned. “I hate this plan.”
Kael smirked. “You hated the last one too.”
“Yes, and it involved something with glowing eyes! That’s always a bad sign!”
But he followed.
Kael held out his hand for Lina.
She took it without hesitation.
Together, they walked deeper into the fortress—toward a sealed door that held the first true truth of the kingdom.
And possibly the beginning of the end.