The gunshot was deafening.
Eliana jerked around just in time to see the hall fill with smoke. Adrien grabbed her hand, yanking her down behind the antique dresser in his bedroom just as another shot shattered the wall above them.
"They're here," he whispered, voice tight with panic.
"Who are they?" she hissed.
Adrien's jaw clenched. "The Vowkeepers."
Eliana's heart stuttered. "You never told me—"
"They're the ones who enforce the cycle. They keep the vow from being broken. And now that you remember—" he looked at her, regret brimming in his eyes "—they'll do whatever it takes to silence you."
More shots rang out. The glass window behind them exploded inward, shards flying like razors. Adrien shielded Eliana with his body as they both hit the floor.
"We have to move," he said.
"I'm not running again."
Adrien gave her a grim look. "It's not running. It's surviving long enough to end this."
They crawled along the floor, ducking under broken furniture and collapsed plaster. The mansion, once regal and timeless, now looked like a war zone. And it had only just begun.
They made it to the hidden staircase behind the grandfather clock. Adrien shoved it open and urged her down first.
"I sealed this passage years ago. They won't know about it."
"And where does it lead?"
He didn't answer.
Down and down they went—twisting stone steps lit only by Eliana's phone flashlight. Her breath echoed against the narrow walls. When they finally reached the end, Adrien pushed aside a wooden door and led her into what looked like an abandoned library beneath the estate.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"My father's study. Before he died, he used this room to research the curse… and the bloodline that started it."
Shelves towered around them, filled with ancient books bound in cracked leather. Maps, torn pages, drawings of symbols Eliana recognized from her visions. In the center stood a table with a single folder—its cover marked with the same sigil: a thorn circle pierced by a dagger.
Adrien opened it.
Inside were photos. Grainy, black-and-white pictures of weddings—brides who looked eerily like Eliana. Grooms who looked like Adrien. Dozens of them.
"This… this is us," she breathed. "From before."
He nodded. "Every lifetime, we find each other. And every time, it ends the same."
"But why?" she whispered. "Why would I choose this again?"
Adrien picked up a small journal and handed it to her. "You didn't always choose it. In some lifetimes, you fought it. In others… you embraced it. But one thing is always the same—your guilt. And their need to punish it."
Eliana flipped through the journal. It was her handwriting. A previous version of herself. The entries bled with desperation.
"They told me I killed Mara. But I loved her."
"I begged them to bring her back. They brought me Adrien instead."
"This love is a noose."
Suddenly, the door behind them rattled.
"They found us," Adrien murmured.
Eliana shoved the journal into her coat and turned to him. "We don't hide. Not anymore."
Before he could argue, she grabbed the ceremonial dagger mounted on the wall. Its blade gleamed, ancient and bloodstained.
"They want me? Let them come."
—
The door burst open with a crash. Figures in black stormed in, masked and silent, their movements inhumanly fluid.
Adrien pushed Eliana behind him.
"Don't," she snapped, stepping out. "I remember now. I'm not some helpless bride."
One of the intruders stepped forward. A woman—tall, regal, with silver eyes and a voice like frost.
"Eliana Vale. You broke the vow."
"No," Eliana said, voice trembling but loud. "I remembered it. And I'm going to end it."
"You cannot." The woman stepped closer. "The curse binds the blood. You murdered your sister to take her place. That sin demands a price."
Adrien stepped forward. "Then take me. Leave her."
The woman looked at him—no, through him. "You were always willing to die for her. That's not love. That's weakness."
"I call it devotion," he growled.
"Devotion doesn't rewrite fate," she replied.
But Eliana raised the dagger.
"It can," she said. "If blood began it, then blood can end it."
She turned the dagger toward herself.
Adrien lunged. "No—Eliana, don't!"
She pressed the blade against her palm and sliced it open. Her blood hit the stone floor, sizzling like acid. The room trembled.
The woman hissed. "What have you done?"
"Changed the ending," Eliana whispered.
The sigil on the folder began to glow. Books fell from shelves. A low rumble echoed through the walls. The woman staggered, clutching her chest.
"You remembered too much," she snarled. "You always forget by now!"
"I chose not to," Eliana spat. "You don't get to decide who I am anymore."
With one last scream, the woman collapsed, vanishing into black smoke.
The others followed—disintegrating like shadows at sunrise.
And then, silence.
Adrien caught her before she fell. Her hand still bled.
"You could've died," he said, voice raw.
"I was already dying," she murmured, "Every day I forgot who I was."
He pressed her hand to his lips. "You remembered me."
She smiled. "I remembered us."
—
They stayed in the underground study until the sun rose.
The curse was broken. The house above them was still, the air clean of its haunting weight.
But as they climbed the stairs, something gnawed at Eliana's spine. A memory. A warning from the veiled woman.
"Breaking the vow frees the soul… but not the consequences."
Eliana paused at the top step.
"Adrien?"
He turned, lips curving in a tired smile. "Yeah?"
"What happens now?"
Before he could answer, the floor above them groaned.
A shadow moved across the ceiling.
Eliana's breath caught.
Because standing in the doorway—alive, glowing with light—was a woman.
Tall. Pale. Familiar.
With Eliana's face.
But not her eyes.
And certainly not her smile.
Adrien backed away slowly.
"Eliana," he whispered, "That's… that's Mara."