Chapter 4 Blood That Remembers

Elara didn't feel the earth vanish beneath her or the magic that tore her from the Alpha hall. One heartbeat she was standing in firelit judgment-her rejection echoing off stone walls-and the next, she was gasping for breath on cold, unfamiliar ground.

Mist swirled thick around her, silver and soft like spun silk, clinging to her skin. The air carried the scent of ash and damp moss, and an eerie quiet hummed around her like the world itself had stopped to watch.

Ronan stood just a few feet away, his silver eyes catching the dim light of the crescent moon. He didn't look startled. He looked like he'd been here before.

"Where... where are we?" Elara's voice cracked as she pushed herself upright.

His gaze scanned the ruins surrounding them-ancient stone walls half-devoured by vines, arches broken and forgotten. "We landed farther than I intended," he said quietly. "These are the Moonshade Ruins."

The name stirred something in her chest, like a forgotten lullaby brushing against her bones. Her mark-still glowing faintly at her neck-responded with a soft, pulsing warmth.

"The what?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Sanctuary of the Nightborn," he replied. "Before it was destroyed."

She turned slowly, absorbing the surroundings. Jagged remnants of towers stood like broken teeth in the fog. Etchings lined the cracked stones-symbols she didn't recognize, but that felt... familiar.

"They lived here?" she whispered. "My people?"

Ronan gave a slow nod. "Before the old Alphas betrayed them. Before the packs turned against their own."

She ran her hand along the mossy surface of a fallen pillar. The moment her fingers brushed the ancient carvings, her breath caught. Something... moved within her.

A memory not her own.

---

Flashback

Fire. Screams. The smell of burning fur. A silver-haired woman wrapped in a dark cloak, holding a newborn close to her chest. Her lips moved in silent prayer as warriors fell around her. A sigil-Elara's mark-flared at the woman's throat.

The image shattered.

---

Elara stumbled back, clutching her chest. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

"What was that?" she gasped.

Ronan's voice was calm, but heavy. "A vision. Passed through blood. The ruins remember."

Her knees weakened, but she didn't fall. "That was... my ancestor?"

"Yes. And she's still watching."

The words sent a chill racing down her spine.

Suddenly, a low growl echoed from beyond the broken wall. Ronan tensed.

"Elara," he said, stepping in front of her, "stay behind me."

From the shadows emerged something grotesque-a creature of twisted limbs and liquid black eyes, its body crawling low like a starving wolf but shaped like nothing born of the earth.

"What is that?" Elara whispered, fear creeping into her throat.

"A shadowspawn," Ronan muttered. "Leftover magic from the burning of this place. The land has never healed."

The creature hissed, its breath like rusted steel. It lunged-

But Elara's mark blazed with sudden fury. A burst of brilliant white surged from her, throwing the shadowspawn backward with a shriek that shattered the fog.

Silence followed.

Ronan turned toward her, astonished.

"I didn't mean to," she said, her hands shaking.

"You didn't need to," he replied. "It's waking up on its own."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I don't want this."

"I know." He didn't touch her. "But the blood remembers, whether you're ready or not."

---

They walked deeper into the ruins. The path was uneven, littered with the bones of forgotten architecture. The fog shifted like breath as Elara passed through it. Her skin prickled. The ground beneath her feet pulsed like a heartbeat-her heartbeat.

The mark on her neck flared again, this time not with fear but with recognition.

She paused at the base of a fallen arch. Stone symbols pulsed softly beneath layers of moss, glowing under her touch.

"I feel like I've stood here before," she murmured.

"Because you have," Ronan said. "Not in this body. But in your blood."

When she touched the stone, the world changed again.

---

Flashback

A moonlit night. Warriors in armor bearing the mark of the Nightborn. A circle of fire. A child placed gently inside a cradle made of vines. The woman with silver hair turned to a cloaked figure-"Protect her. No matter the cost."

---

She collapsed to her knees. "It's too much. I'm not strong enough for this."

"You don't get to decide that," Ronan said softly. "Fate already did."

Thunder rumbled far in the distance.

And then came footsteps.

Elara froze. That scent-it cut through the fog like a blade.

Kael.

---

He stepped out of the mist like a ghost from her past. Mud stained the hem of his trousers, and his expression was a battlefield of conflict.

"Elara," he said, voice hoarse. "I came for you."

Ronan stiffened. "You shouldn't be here."

Kael ignored him. "I followed the light. I didn't know it would bring me here."

Elara stood slowly, her heart pounding.

"You rejected me," she said quietly.

"I was wrong." His jaw clenched. "I let duty blind me. I didn't see you."

"You looked right at me," she said, voice hardening. "And still turned away."

"I thought I was doing what was best for the pack."

"And what about what was best for me?" she asked, her voice breaking.

The silence between them cracked like lightning.

Ronan stepped between them. "She doesn't belong to you anymore."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "And she belongs to you?"

"She belongs to herself," Ronan replied.

The mark on Elara's neck flared again-this time, defensive. A shimmering barrier of light burst from her skin, separating her from both men.

Kael flinched.

"Elara..." he said, eyes wide.

"She's not who she was," Ronan said. "And she's not coming back."

Kael stepped closer to the light, unsure. "This isn't over."

"No," Elara said, raising her chin. "But you and I are."

---

Kael looked at her one last time-longer this time, like he finally saw her not as a burden, or a duty, or a markless mistake... but as something wild and untouchable.

Then he turned, and disappeared into the mist.

---

The ruins quieted.

Ronan exhaled. "Are you all right?"

"No," Elara said truthfully. "But for the first time... I'm not afraid."

She looked up at the moon. It shone down over the ruins, casting light on the place her people had died... and the place her power had begun.

Below her feet, the ground trembled faintly-as if the sanctuary itself recognized her bloodline.

And far beneath the surface, something ancient and long-buried stirred in answer.

---

Deep in the roots of the ruins, an old presence opened its eyes.

And it whispered her name like it had always known she'd return.