Echoes and Enemies

The nightmares returned. Aurora's sleep was fractured by smoke, blood, and Fiona's warped voice echoing through the halls of her subconscious.

"He'll choose me again, Aurora. He always does."

Aurora shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, her breath ragged. She wasn't at Zayne's place this time—she'd insisted on returning to her flat, despite his protests. She needed to feel like her own person again, not just the girl entangled in someone else's curse.

But the air was wrong.

She reached for the pendant Zayne had given her before she left. A charm, he'd said. Carved from bone and obsidian, warm to the touch despite its material. It pulsed now like a heartbeat.

She stepped into the hallway and froze.

The walls were bleeding.

No, not blood—ink. Black, thick, dripping like tar from the ceiling. She blinked, and it was gone.

"This place is messing with my head," she muttered.

But her powers stirred beneath her skin. Not fear—instinct. Warning.

Then she heard it.

A soft, familiar laugh from the living room.

Fiona.

Aurora stormed out, palms glowing faintly, ready for a fight. But what she found was worse.

Fiona was curled on the couch, eyes vacant, skin pale. She rocked back and forth like a puppet without strings. Her lips moved in whispers, ancient words that made Aurora's ears ring.

"Fiona?" she said, inching forward.

Fiona's head snapped up. But her eyes weren't hers.

They were pitch black.

"You can't protect him forever," the voice said. It was Fiona's mouth, but not her tone. It was deeper. Older.

"He was promised to us. As you were. The moment you touched lips."

Aurora didn't back down. "You want him? Come through me first."

The thing in Fiona smiled. "Gladly."

The lights exploded. Aurora raised her arms as a wave of black fire surged forward—but it met her golden shield mid-air, and the shockwave cracked the coffee table in two.

Fiona collapsed.

Aurora caught her just before she hit the floor.

She called Zayne.

He was there in minutes, breathless, wild-eyed. "Where is she?"

"Out. Whatever had her—it left."

Zayne crouched, examining the scorch marks. He didn't speak.

"Zayne, talk to me. What was that?"

He looked at her. Something in his expression—fear, maybe regret—gnawed at her.

"They know you're getting stronger," he said. "That your bloodline isn't just dormant—it's awakening. That you might be..."

She waited.

"What? Say it."

He stood slowly. "That you might be the vessel. The one that either ends the curse... or completes it."

Aurora's throat dried.

Zayne cupped her face. "But I won't let it touch you. I swear it."

She leaned into his touch, her fear giving way to something else. Trust. Hunger. A desperate need to feel alive.

They kissed—soft at first, then deep, searching. And the shadows curled back, retreating into the corners.

Later that night, they lay together in silence, the city lights painting golden lines across the sheets.

"You said I have a bloodline," Aurora whispered.

Zayne nodded. "Your grandmother. She was called the Ember Witch. Vanished during the last blood moon."

Aurora sat up, stunned. "My mother never told me any of this."

"Because your mother sealed it away. For your safety. The curse wasn't supposed to find you."

She looked at him. "But it did."

His jaw clenched. "Because I led it to you."

The room fell into silence, thick and painful.

Outside, the blood moon began to rise. And somewhere in the distance, Fiona opened her eyes again—this time, fully possessed.

The war had begun.

End of chapter 11.