A Prison of Fire and Shadows

Chapter 3: A Prison of Fire and Shadows

Celestine's world twisted in a blur of violence.

Lucien tore through the hunters with raw fury, his massive black wolf form a blur of claws and fangs. Draven moved like liquid shadow, slipping between attacks, striking with lethal precision. The forest floor became a battlefield drenched in silver and crimson.

But Celestine wasn't safe.

A hand clamped around her wrist. Cold. Unyielding.

She gasped as the huntress yanked her backward. "The prophecy child must not escape," the woman hissed, tightening her grip. Celestine struggled, twisting her body, but the huntress was stronger.

A dagger gleamed under the blood moon's glow.

Celestine's heart slammed against her ribs. The blade was inches from her throat.

Then, the shadows moved.

Draven appeared behind the huntress in an instant. A gloved hand shot forward, gripping the woman's neck with effortless ease. "You dare touch what is mine?" he murmured, voice a whisper of death.

The huntress choked, her dagger clattering to the ground. Draven's grip tightened. Celestine barely had time to flinch before he snapped the woman's neck with a sickening crack.

Lucien's snarl ripped through the clearing. "Draven!"

The vampire's crimson eyes flicked toward the werewolf, unfazed. "What?"

Lucien shifted back to his human form, breathing hard. "You're proving them right. You are a monster."

Draven smirked. "And you are a fool if you think mercy will keep her alive."

Celestine took a step back, her pulse still racing. "Both of you—stop."

Lucien's gaze softened when he turned to her. "We need to leave. More will come."

Draven adjusted his gloves, unbothered. "And where do you suggest we go, wolf? She belongs to neither of us."

Celestine's breath hitched. For the first time, the weight of her situation settled over her like an iron cage. She was caught between two predators—one claiming to protect her, the other determined to own her. And somewhere beyond them, a force she didn't yet understand wanted her dead.

She was running out of time.

Chapter 4: The Chains of Prophecy

Celestine barely had time to catch her breath before Lucien grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. "Move," he ordered, his voice sharp with urgency.

She stumbled, but he didn't slow down. The forest blurred past them as they ran, the scent of blood and smoke thick in the air. Draven kept pace beside them, his crimson eyes glowing eerily under the eclipsed moon.

"We can't outrun them forever," Draven said coolly. "We need a plan."

Lucien growled but didn't stop moving. "And I suppose you have one?"

Draven smirked. "I always do."

Before Lucien could respond, Celestine yanked her hand free, skidding to a stop. "Enough! I'm not a prize for either of you to fight over."

The two men turned to face her. Lucien's gaze was dark with frustration; Draven's was unreadable, as if weighing her words with amusement.

"This is bigger than both of you," she continued, chest rising and falling heavily. "The prophecy—whatever it means—doesn't change the fact that I refuse to be controlled."

Draven tilted his head. "And yet you stand between a beast and a monster. What choice do you really have?"

Celestine clenched her fists. "One I make for myself."

A deep howl echoed through the night, sending a shiver down her spine.

Lucien turned toward the sound, his body tense. "They're regrouping."

Draven sighed dramatically. "And here I thought we'd have more time for pleasantries."

Lucien ignored him and stepped closer to Celestine. "There's a safe house nearby. We can rest there."

Draven scoffed. "And walk willingly into a werewolf den? Tempting."

Celestine exhaled sharply. "Enough. We go to the safe house, and you two try not to kill each other for one night."

Lucien's jaw tightened, but he nodded. Draven smirked but didn't argue.

As they disappeared into the shadows of the forest, Celestine felt the weight of destiny pressing down on her.

And for the first time, she feared that no matter where she ran, fate would always find her.

Chapter 5: Sanctuary of Wolves

The safe house wasn't what Celestine expected.

Nestled deep within the forest, hidden by layers of ancient trees and thick mist, the structure looked less like a sanctuary and more like a fortress. Stone walls, reinforced with iron, loomed ahead, etched with runes that glowed faintly under the crimson eclipse. A protective enchantment.

Lucien led the way, his posture tense as he pushed the heavy wooden door open. The inside was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting elongated shadows against the cold stone walls. It smelled of damp earth, aged wood, and something unmistakably wild.

Draven stepped in behind them, his crimson gaze sweeping over the space with mild interest. "Charming," he mused. "A prison disguised as a refuge."

Lucien ignored him and turned to Celestine. "You'll be safe here for the night."

She folded her arms. "And then what?"

Lucien hesitated. "Then we figure out our next move."

Draven smirked, leaning against the wall. "How noble of you, wolf. Acting like you have a choice."

Lucien's eyes darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Draven let out a low chuckle. "You can try to protect her all you want, but it won't change what she is. What she carries in her blood." His gaze flicked to Celestine, unreadable. "The world won't let her go. And neither will I."

Celestine exhaled sharply, exhaustion creeping into her bones. "I am still right here, you know," she snapped. "Maybe stop talking about me like I'm not."

Draven's lips curled slightly, but he said nothing.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "You should rest," he muttered. "I'll stand guard."

Celestine hesitated, then nodded. She didn't trust either of them—but for now, she had no choice.

As she stepped deeper into the safe house, the weight of the prophecy pressed heavier on her shoulders.

No matter where she ran, destiny was always one step ahead.