Chapter 4 The crimson binding

The city never truly slept. Even at midnight, Emberfall hummed with a restless, electric energy. But tonight, that hum twisted into something darker-like a breath being held by something ancient and unseen.

Duncan stood at the edge of the rooftop terrace, the skyline stretched before him like a fractured painting. His eyes weren't on the view, though-they were on her.

Arielle.

She was leaning against the stone balustrade, her face half-lit by the flickering lights below. Her dark curls were tangled by the wind, and her fingers toyed absently with the silver pendant at her throat-the only piece of jewelry she ever wore. Duncan had seen it before, in old paintings and dreams he couldn't explain.

"You're not afraid of heights?" he asked, more to break the silence than anything else.

She turned slowly. "I've lived most of my life on the edge of things."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "That's poetic."

"That's survival."

A gust of wind blew through, and for a moment, the world stilled.

Then it changed.

The warmth of the rooftop air vanished. Frost crept across the stone beneath their feet. Duncan's veins pulsed with a sudden fire. The mark on his wrist-the one shaped like a crescent of thorns-burned crimson.

"No," he hissed, backing away. "Not now."

But it was too late.

A figure emerged from the shadows behind Arielle-dripping in black mist, eyes glowing like blood-lit embers. It wasn't human. It had once been.

A Wraithbound.

"Duncan," Arielle whispered, eyes wide. "What is that?"

He stepped in front of her. "A reminder. Of the curse. Of everything I destroyed."

The Wraithbound screeched-a sound that bent the air. Duncan's hands trembled, heat crackling across his skin. Flames flickered at his fingertips. His control slipped.

"Get back," he growled.

But Arielle didn't move.

Instead, she stepped forward, placed a hand on his shoulder-and whispered something in a language he didn't recognize.

The flames stilled. The Wraithbound paused.

Then, impossibly, it bowed.

Duncan's eyes widened. "What did you just say?"

"I... don't know," Arielle replied, breathless. "It just came to me. Like I'd said it before."

The Wraithbound slowly vanished, folding into the wind like smoke. Silence followed, heavy and fragile.

Duncan stared at her. "You're connected to it. To them."

Arielle looked just as shaken. "I think I've always been connected to this place. To you. I just didn't know how."

The pendant around her neck pulsed faintly, and for the first time, Duncan saw the sigil engraved on its surface.

It matched the curse mark on his wrist.

The truth was unraveling-and it was binding them together in blood, fire, and something older than either of them could name.