Ashridge had always been a land of blood and silence.
But now, something deeper stirred in the roots.
Something ancient. Unforgiving. Claiming.
The night had bled into the bones of the forest, and Evelyn could feel it in her skin — not cold exactly, but thin. As if the line between her body and the bond was fraying again. The silence inside her wasn't peace.
It was the echo before the break.
She stood barefoot on the forest path just beyond the cabin, the air still around her like it feared to move.
She wasn't afraid.
But she was aware — that whatever she'd awakened with the dagger, whatever memory had come alive beneath that stone — hadn't left.
It had simply gone quiet.
Waiting for something.
Or someone.
⸻
Lucian watched her from the edge of the trees.
He hadn't slept. Couldn't.
He'd tried shifting again, running, letting his wolf loose through the northern hills until his paws bled and his throat ached from growls he couldn't silence.
But nothing helped.
Because no matter how far he ran, the bond followed.
Not his bond.
Hers.
He could feel it like frost behind his ribs. A tether. Fragile, but constant. And not connected to him.
He wanted to tear it out.
He wanted to protect her.
But most of all — he wanted her to look at him the way she had in the infirmary that first night. Before the heartbeat. Before the mark. Before Moren.
⸻
At the pack house, Riven stood in the archive room with three books open at once. Candles burned low, dripping wax onto pages centuries old.
He flipped between pages furiously, fingers stained with ink and dust, until he stopped cold on a symbol drawn in blood.
A broken circle. Two hearts. One inverted.
He read the translation aloud:
"When one is marked without will, the soul splits. One remains. One becomes hollow."
His breath caught.
He turned the page.
"If not sealed by true vow, the hollowed will turn. Not into wolf. Not into man. But into shadow."
He grabbed the journal and ran.
⸻
Evelyn moved deeper into the woods, eyes distant.
The world felt off.
Sounds came too slow. Light bent strangely.
It was like standing in water and trying to breathe air.
And through it all, something pulled at her spine — low, constant.
A tether.
Not Lucian's.
But Moren's.
⸻
Lucian found her by the creek. She was crouched beside the water, fingers tracing the current. She didn't look up when he approached.
"I think I'm losing something," she whispered.
Lucian crouched beside her. "What do you mean?"
She didn't answer at first.
Then softly: "I can't feel myself as clearly anymore. Like I'm still Evelyn, but… something's leaking out."
Lucian's hands clenched.
"Did you see him again?" he asked.
"In a dream," she said. "But I think it wasn't just a dream."
Lucian nodded slowly. "He's getting closer."
Her throat tightened. "What happens if he finds me?"
Lucian's jaw flexed. "He won't."
But Evelyn wasn't so sure.
⸻
That night, it rained.
A cold, fine mist that wrapped the forest in silence. The kind of rain that buried footsteps. That made every sound feel like a whisper meant only for you.
Evelyn stood in front of the mirror again, candlelight flickering across her face.
For a moment, she didn't recognize herself.
And for just a second more… she saw someone else.
A woman with silver eyes and a bleeding mark on her chest.
Elhera.
"You weren't ready," the voice inside whispered.
"But I am," Evelyn replied aloud.
Then, softer: "I have to be."
⸻
Moren crossed the Ashridge border at midnight.
No rogue howled.
No resistance rose.
The land accepted him like it had been waiting.
He moved through the trees with quiet fury, a shadow among shadows. Not a wolf. Not a man. Something old.
He no longer needed to speak her name to feel her.
She was close.
And the bond pulsed between them like a hollow drum.
⸻
Lucian jolted awake.
Not from a nightmare.
But from absence.
Evelyn's bond — the one that always hummed faintly around her — was gone.
Not severed.
Stolen.
He shifted mid-step as he ran from the cabin, his wolf's senses stretched so far it burned. He followed her scent to the edge of the eastern hills.
And stopped cold.
The ground was blackened.
The trees curled backward.
And in the center…
A mark carved in stone.
The same symbol from Riven's book.
The Hollow Circle.
⸻
Evelyn blinked.
She was standing somewhere unfamiliar.
The ground beneath her was scorched, ash and mist curling at her ankles. The air was thick — not with smoke, but with memory.
And in front of her stood a man.
Not a beast.
Not a ghost.
A man with dark, ancient eyes and a scar across his chest that pulsed with silver fire.
Moren.
He smiled.
"You came back to me."
Evelyn didn't move. "I didn't come for you."
"But you will," he said. "You always did."
"I'm not her anymore."
He stepped closer.
"But you were. And she loved me."
Her voice dropped. "She also died for it."
Moren's smile faded.
"You don't remember it all yet. You think Lucian can protect you. But he's not your bond."
Evelyn's eyes flashed. "Maybe not. But he's my choice."
The mark on his chest dimmed slightly.
He scowled.
"Then choose."
⸻
Lucian found the edge of the mark just as Riven caught up to him, breathless, book in hand.
"Lucian," he panted. "It's a hollow bond. He marked her without consent. He's drawing her toward him like a magnet."
Lucian's wolf growled, silver eyes sharp.
"How do we break it?"
Riven held up the page. "She has to sever it herself. With blood. And a vow."
Lucian's voice returned with a snarl.
"Then we get her back. And she ends it."
⸻
Evelyn stood face to face with Moren, heart steady.
"I was once yours," she said. "And you buried me alive."
Moren flinched. "I did what I had to. To protect you. To save us."
"You didn't save anything," she said.
"You loved me," he said.
She stepped forward, hand glowing faintly.
"I did."
Then her voice dropped.
"But I don't anymore."
⸻
She reached for the place on her chest where the second heartbeat used to be — and sliced her palm open with her nails. Blood spilled into the ash.
"I sever what you stole," she said.
The air screamed.
"I vow myself back to myself."
The ground cracked.
"I am not your hollow. I am my own whole."
Light erupted from her hands.
And Moren was thrown back, snarling.
⸻
Lucian caught her just as she collapsed.
He held her against him, heart still racing.
She looked up at him, weak but smiling.
"I chose," she whispered.
Lucian pressed his forehead to hers.
"I know."
⸻
Far away, Moren crawled from the crater, burned and shaking.
But not broken.
"She severed it," he rasped.
Then his eyes glowed.
"But that was only the first bond."