Chapter 5 Whispers Beneath the Stone

The night air at Moonshade Ruins hung heavy, too still for comfort. The fire crackled weakly between them, its dying flames reflecting off broken stone and moss-covered columns. The ruins-once a place of sacred ceremony-now felt like a graveyard holding its breath.

Elara sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the fire as though it held answers. Her clothes were damp with mist, her hair clung to her face, and her thoughts spun in a loop she couldn't break.

Across from her, Ronan crouched near the flames, feeding them twigs and brittle roots he had gathered. His face, always calm and unreadable, was shadowed under his dark hair. The silence stretched between them, thick and wordless.

"What happens now?" she asked finally, her voice low.

Ronan didn't respond immediately. He shifted the logs with a stick, sparks drifting into the night air.

"You felt the pulse earlier, didn't you?" he said.

She nodded.

"That was the Ruins recognizing your blood," he continued. "This place was built by the Nightborn. Your ancestors. It remembers."

Elara turned her face toward the ruined arches around them. The stones felt like they were watching, listening.

"I don't understand," she murmured. "I was just a healer's apprentice. I never asked for any of this. Why me?"

"Because the last of their magic didn't die-it waited," he said. "And now, it's waking up in you."

She looked down at her hands. They had once healed cuts and bruises. Now, they trembled with something far more dangerous.

"I saw her again," she whispered. "The woman in my vision. She looked like me, but stronger. Fiercer. Her eyes... they burned like silver fire."

Ronan nodded. "That was Selene Nightborn. The last High Daughter. She died here... but not before sealing the last of their legacy inside bloodlines."

"Including mine," Elara whispered.

The fire popped, sending sparks dancing across the stones. The wind shifted-colder now. Sharper. And with it came a strange whispering sound, like breath caught in ancient lungs.

Elara's head snapped up. "Did you hear that?"

Ronan rose silently. "Yes."

The whisper grew louder-not a voice, not exactly. But words were buried in it, tangled in wind and stone.

"Elara," it seemed to say. "Come."

She stood without thinking.

"Elara, wait," Ronan called, but she was already moving deeper into the ruins.

---

Her steps took her beyond the crumbling walls and into the sanctuary's heart-a circular space of broken pillars and hollowed stone. At the center sat a ruined altar, its surface cracked and bleeding soft light.

Moss covered most of it, but beneath the green, ancient symbols pulsed faintly.

She stepped closer, drawn like a moth to flame.

"Elara..." the wind called again. And this time, it wasn't just wind.

The ground beneath the altar trembled slightly. Then a soft hum rose, and a strange warmth gathered in her chest.

The mark on her neck began to glow.

"Elara!" Ronan's voice was distant now, muffled.

She placed her palm on the altar, and everything around her shifted.

---

Flashback:

Stone halls stretched around her-whole and unbroken. Torches burned with blue flame. A great gathering of wolves stood in rows, their eyes fixed on the woman at the altar: Selene Nightborn. Her voice thundered through the chamber.

"They will come for us," she said, "but they will not break us. Our blood is more than power-it is memory."

She knelt, pressing her hand against a newborn wrapped in deep blue silk. "You will awaken when the time is right. When we are needed again."

The child's eyes opened-silver like the moon.

End flash.

---

Elara stumbled back, gasping. The ruins were cold again. But her skin burned with magic.

"Did you see that?" she asked, as Ronan finally reached her.

"No," he said. "But I felt it. You're syncing with her memories now."

Elara backed away from the altar, overwhelmed. "I don't want to be her."

"You're not," Ronan said gently. "But her legacy lives in you. And you're not alone anymore."

A long silence followed.

But before she could answer, a deep rumble shook the floor.

The altar cracked even further. A pulse of darkness slipped out from beneath it.

"Something's wrong," she whispered.

Ronan stepped in front of her. "It's too soon. You weren't supposed to awaken the seal yet."

"What seal?"

A groan echoed from the earth beneath them-like something breathing after centuries of sleep.

"Elara, we need to go," Ronan said. His voice was tense now.

But she was frozen.

From the broken altar, shadows spilled like liquid. A tall, shapeless figure began to rise. Limbs of smoke. Eyes like dying embers.

A voice, hollow and ancient, filled the air.

> "The blood has returned. The bond is cracked. The darkness remembers."

Elara's mark flared so bright it blinded her. Pain shot through her chest.

"Run!" Ronan shouted, drawing a blade from his belt.

The shadow struck first.

Its tendrils shot forward, lashing at them like whips. Ronan blocked one, but another grazed Elara's arm, and she screamed as cold fire tore through her.

She fell to her knees.

The creature hovered over her, whispering in a voice only she could hear.

> "Little moon... little spark. You do not belong to him. You are mine."

Elara's vision blurred.

"Kael..." she whispered, not knowing why she said his name.

The shadow reached for her face-

And then, a deafening roar split the air.

A golden blur crashed through the ruins, slamming into the shadow beast.

Stone shattered. Dust flew.

Elara looked up just in time to see claws, fangs, and golden eyes burning like wildfire.

Kael.

Half-shifted, bloodied, furious.

He tore into the creature with a rage that echoed across the ruins.

"Elara, get behind me!" he barked, voice guttural.

She crawled back toward Ronan, who was barely conscious. His side bled from the earlier strike.

"Stay awake," she whispered to him.

Kael held the shadow off, but the thing was reforming-its body twisting back into shape, immune to wounds.

"We can't fight it," Elara said. "It's not just magic. It's... cursed."

Kael glanced at her. "Then seal it again. Do whatever you did before!"

"I don't know how!"

The creature let out a shriek that cracked the sky.

Elara gritted her teeth and crawled back to the altar.

She didn't know what she was doing. But she reached for the memory of the flashback-the woman's voice.

"Blood is memory."

"Blood is the key."

She pressed both hands against the cracked stone and screamed into the magic.

"Seal!"

The mark at her neck burned white-hot.

A shockwave exploded from the altar, knocking Kael and the shadow backward.

The air trembled.

And the creature vanished into mist-sucked back into the altar's crack.

Silence.

---

Kael stood panting, covered in ash and blood.

Elara collapsed beside the altar, heart hammering.

Ronan stirred weakly behind her. "You did it," he whispered.

"No," she said. "I think I only delayed it."

Kael turned slowly toward her. "You're full of surprises, healer."

Elara met his eyes. "I'm not a healer anymore."

He nodded once, but there was something unreadable in his expression. Not anger. Not yet.

"You shouldn't have left the hall," he said. "You don't understand the danger you've unleashed."

"And you don't understand what's been hiding beneath your land for centuries," she snapped back.

Ronan coughed. "We need to move. That thing... it'll come back."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "You know him?" he asked Elara, nodding toward Ronan.

"Yes," she said, helping Ronan up. "He saved my life."

Kael didn't respond, but the tension in his jaw spoke volumes.

---

As they turned to leave the ruins, Elara glanced back at the altar.

The crack in its center still glowed faintly.

And from deep beneath the stone, a whisper echoed once more.

"You are marked, Elara Nightborn. The blood remembers. And so does the darkness."

---

As Elara looked into the fading glow, she felt a chill settle into her bones.

The mark on her neck pulsed again-not in warning.

In recognition.

Something ancient had seen her now.

And it would never stop watching.