The Curse of Fellhollow

Chapter Five: Sealed Fate

I can feel Vardyr's golden gaze boring into me, burning hotter with every step I take into the clearing. The silver light of the moon glows on his skin, shifting and dancing with the faint shimmer of magic. His form flickers between beast and man—dark fur rippling one moment, smooth human skin the next. He stands at the center of the forest's heart as if this is where he's always belonged, where I've always belonged too.

The strange pull I felt earlier—the one that made it so hard to be afraid of him—wraps tighter around my chest. I try to shake it off, to remember why I came here in the first place. *Save Emrin. You're here to save Emrin.* But with every breath I take, the purpose I carried feels more distant, like the edges of a dream slipping through my fingers.

Vardyr takes a step closer, his voice low and soft, like a secret being shared in the dead of night. "You're not just here for your friend, Lyra. You were always meant to come."

The forest hums around us, the air heavy with a truth I don't understand. I cross my arms tightly, like I can shield myself from the weight of it. "What are you talking about?"

Vardyr tilts his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. "They never told you, did they? I wondered how long Old Maurel could keep the truth from you."

Old Maurel. My throat tightens at the mention of her name, and unease spreads through my chest. She was the only one who ever treated me like I was normal, like I wasn't a girl everyone avoided in hushed silence. But Vardyr's words twist something inside me. "What truth?" I demand, my voice sharper now, heart pounding against my ribs.

"The curse." Vardyr's eyes darken, gleaming in the moonlight like molten gold. "You were born beneath the blood moon for a reason. Your birth was foretold—to be my bride, to end this curse once and for all."

A chill races down my spine, and my breath hitches. His bride. The words feel heavy, absurd—like something from a story told to scare children. But the forest hums around us in agreement, as if the ancient woods are confirming his every word. My head spins, memories pressing at the edges of my mind, fragments I never fully understood until now.

I remember the way my parents used to whisper late at night, their voices tight with worry. *"We have to get her out of here. If they know she's still alive..."* There were always things they wouldn't tell me, conversations that ended abruptly when I entered the room. They said we had to leave because the village wasn't safe, but we never made it out. One night, they tried to take me far from the forest. I remember the way my mother's hands trembled as she tied my shoes. *"Don't look back, Lyra,"* she whispered.

But we never escaped. The forest had taken them before we even made it past the border. I remember the night it happened, standing alone in the dark woods, waiting for them to return. They never did. Old Maurel found me hours later, cold and numb, too young to understand what I had witnessed.

She raised me after that, fed me half-truths wrapped in kindness, and sent me off to the city when I was old enough, telling me there was nothing for me here. But the villagers always knew. That's why they stayed away. Why they never looked at me directly. Not because they were afraid of me—but because they knew what I was destined to become. They were all just waiting for the blood moon to rise again.

My knees feel weak beneath me, and I stagger back a step, struggling to catch my breath. "No." The word slips out in a whisper, too small, too hollow. "This can't be true. It's—"

"It is," Vardyr says, his gaze softening, though there's a strange, terrible tenderness in the way he looks at me. "Your parents tried to stop the inevitable, and they paid the price. This was always going to happen, Lyra. You were born for this. You are the key to ending this curse. And you belong to me."

The weight of his words crashes over me, and I feel as though the ground is shifting beneath my feet. My life has never been my own. It was shaped by the forest long before I took my first breath—every moment leading to this. And despite the fire of defiance in my chest, a part of me can feel it, deep inside. A strange sense of familiarity. As if some forgotten part of me has always known I would end up here, standing before him.

Vardyr steps closer, closing the distance between us. "The curse can only be broken if you stay with me, willingly. If you accept what was always meant to be."

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, a voice cuts through the stillness of the forest.

"Lyra!"

My heart leaps as I turn toward the sound. Emrin. He's here. His dark hair is tangled, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as he stumbles into the clearing. I can see the fear and confusion in his eyes, the way they dart between me and Vardyr.

"What the hell are you doing?" Emrin's voice trembles with anger and panic. "You weren't supposed to come here! I was supposed to—" He stops short, glaring at Vardyr with a look that makes my chest tighten. "Get away from her, you bastard."

Vardyr sighs, his gaze flickering with faint annoyance, like Emrin is nothing more than a buzzing fly. "This isn't your fight, boy."

"Lyra, come on," Emrin pleads, stepping toward me. His voice softens, cracking under the weight of fear. "We can still run. We can figure this out together. Please."

I take a step back, torn between them. Emrin's face is filled with desperation, but Vardyr's presence pulls at me—something primal and inescapable, like gravity. I know if I leave with Emrin, nothing will ever be the same. The curse will continue. And the forest might claim us both before we even make it back to the village.

"Lyra," Vardyr says, his voice low and steady. "You know the truth now. You were always meant to be mine."

Emrin's hand reaches for mine, trembling slightly. "You don't have to do this. Please, just come with me. We'll figure out another way."

The weight of their words presses down on me, threatening to crush me. I can feel Emrin's love, his fear, the way he wants so desperately to save me. But I also feel the pull of something ancient and inevitable—the pull toward Vardyr, the wolf who has haunted my fate since the moment I was born.

Vardyr's golden eyes burn into mine, unwavering. "Choose, Lyra. But know this—there is no escaping what you are. The forest will always call you back to me."

Tears sting my eyes as I stand frozen between them, my heart breaking in two. Emrin, the boy who has always been by my side, offering me a future filled with uncertainty but love. And Vardyr, a creature who promises no future at all, only the end of a curse—and something far darker, something that feels too much like destiny.

The choice is mine. But no matter what I decide, I know there's no going back.