The night was unnaturally quiet. Not a single whisper from the wind, not a rustle from the trees. The full moon, tinged with a sinister crimson hue, hung low in the sky, bleeding its light over the ancient woods. Beneath it, Selene Ravenswood ran, her breath ragged, her heartbeat thundering louder than her footsteps on the leaf-littered forest floor.
She didn't dare look back. She didn't need to. The shadows that chased her were as familiar as the cursed mark glowing on her palm — a sigil that had been burned into her skin since birth, the very thing that had doomed her entire life.
A cursed witch.
An outcast.
The harbinger of ruin.
That was what they called her. That was what she believed.
Selene's legs screamed as she forced herself to run faster, the searing pain of the branch that had slashed her cheek ignored in favor of survival. She had to make it to the river. That's what the old witch had told her. Get to the river under the blood moon. Only then will you find the one who can free you from the chains of fate.
But Selene had stopped believing in prophecies long ago. They had only brought her misery.
Ahead, the silver glimmer of water peeked through the thick veil of trees. Relief almost staggered her, but she pushed harder. Her feet hit the muddy banks just as the snarling wolves behind her closed in.
They weren't ordinary wolves.
They were Bloodfangs — beasts cursed with the hunger to devour magic, their red eyes ablaze with unnatural fire, their bodies larger than any mortal creature should bear.
Selene raised her trembling hands, summoning the raw, untamed power within her. The cursed mark on her palm ignited, glowing with a light that was both beautiful and terrifying.
"Stay back!" she shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of exhaustion and fear.
The wolves hesitated, snarling, circling. They could sense her power, but they could also smell her weakness.
Selene's knees threatened to buckle. She had burned through most of her magic during the chase. She was running on fumes. She didn't know if she could cast another spell, let alone survive a direct attack.
The water's edge rippled unnaturally.
She didn't notice it at first, too focused on the wolves closing in. But then the surface split open, as if the river itself had torn apart, and from its depths, a figure emerged.
A man.
Tall. Pale. Cloaked in black, his hair dark as midnight, his crimson eyes glowing softly in the moonlight. He moved with a predatory grace, his boots barely making a sound as he stepped onto the muddy shore.
The wolves instantly recoiled, their snarls turning into whimpers.
Selene's breath caught in her throat.
A vampire.
But not just any vampire. There was something different about him — something ancient, something that radiated both power and sorrow.
"You've made quite the mess, little witch," the man said, his voice like silk and smoke, laced with a dangerous calm.
Selene's pulse hammered. "Stay back! I can still— I can still fight."
The vampire's lips curled into a faint smile. "You can barely stand."
His words sliced through her bravado, leaving her exposed.
He wasn't wrong.
"Who are you?" she demanded, summoning the last flicker of her magic into her palm, though it sputtered weakly.
He took another step forward, his gaze dipping to the glowing mark on her hand. His expression shifted, just slightly, as though recognition stirred something deep within him.
"My name is Damon Blackthorn," he said. "And you… you've been running from me your entire life."
Selene's throat tightened. "What… what are you talking about?"
"The prophecy," he said simply, as if the word itself was a stone he had carried for centuries. "The cursed witch marked by the blood moon, destined to either destroy me or save me."
Her heart twisted violently.
No. No, she had heard of the prophecy. The elders had whispered about it in fear. The witch who bore the blood moon's mark would either bring salvation to the cursed heir or seal his doom.
She had never known who that heir was.
Until now.
"You're him?" she breathed, her knees giving out as she sank to the muddy ground.
Damon approached her slowly, each step deliberate, measured. The wolves had vanished into the shadows, as if sensing they no longer had a role to play.
"I've searched centuries for you," he said, his voice low, almost mournful. "And now that I've found you, you're… smaller than I expected."
Selene let out a bitter laugh, the sound more a sob than anything else. "You think this is funny?"
His crimson eyes softened, just a little. "No. I think fate is cruel."
She pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the cursed mark's pulse beneath her skin. "So what now? Do you kill me? Do I kill you? Is that how this ends?"
He crouched in front of her, his hand reaching out but stopping just inches from her face, as though afraid she would shatter.
"No," he said quietly. "That's not how it ends."
She searched his face, the sharp angles, the haunted eyes, the threads of pain woven through every word he spoke. He didn't look like the monster she'd imagined. He looked like a man who had lost too much.
"Then how does it end?" she whispered.
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"We figure that out together."
Selene wanted to scream at him, to push him away, to demand why fate had played this cruel joke on both of them. But all that came out was a ragged breath.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't running alone.
For the first time, someone had stepped toward her instead of away.
And despite every bone in her body telling her not to trust him, she wanted to.
Maybe that was the curse.
Maybe that was the beginning.
The forest felt heavier as Damon helped Selene to her feet. She still didn't know whether she should thank him or run from him.
"You'll need rest," Damon said, guiding her toward a hidden path that wound deeper into the woods. "And answers."
Selene bit her lip. "Do you know why the Bloodfangs were after me?"
"They were hunting the mark on your skin," Damon replied. "Your blood holds magic they crave. But it's more than that." He paused, as if weighing his next words. "You're the last of your bloodline. The last witch who can undo what was done centuries ago."
Her stomach clenched. "Undo what?"
He gave her a sidelong glance. "The curse that binds me."
Selene stopped walking, forcing him to halt as well. "You keep talking about curses and prophecies, but you're not telling me the truth."
Damon's jaw tightened, his expression darkening. "The truth is not simple."
"Try me."
He looked away, the crimson of his eyes dimming. "I was born a vampire… but I carry the blood of wolves."
Her breath caught. She had heard whispers of such things, legends of hybrids born from forbidden unions. They were rare. Dangerous. Hunted.
"A witch cursed me when I was a child," he continued, his voice cold now, distant. "She said I would bring destruction to my own kind. That I would fall in love with the cursed witch of the blood moon… and that love would either save me or destroy everything."
Selene felt the weight of his gaze as he turned back to her. "The mark you bear is the key to my freedom… or my damnation."
Her pulse fluttered in her throat. "So you found me to see which one I am?"
"No." His voice was firm. "I found you because I want to fight fate. Together."
The sincerity in his voice shook her.
She had spent so long running, hiding, believing she was a monster. And now, standing before her was a man who carried his own monsters, who had been searching for her not to destroy her… but to stand with her.
Selene's chest tightened. "What if I can't save you?"
His lips quirked into a soft, sad smile. "Then we'll fall together."
A strange comfort bloomed in her chest at those words.
Maybe fate had brought them together.
Maybe they could rewrite the ending.
Or maybe, just maybe, they would burn the prophecy to the ground.