The road they traveled was narrow, winding through forests that seemed to hold their breath as Selene and Damon passed. Early morning mist clung to the trees, veiling the path ahead like a curtain that dared them to step through.
Damon walked with calm purpose, his long strides barely disturbing the silence. Selene trailed behind him, the worn leather-bound book from his mother clutched tightly in her hands. The old journal smelled faintly of lavender and ash, and though she hadn't dared open it yet, she could feel the weight of its secrets pressing against her skin.
The deeper they ventured into the woods, the more Selene realized she wasn't just walking toward answers — she was walking into a storm she couldn't outrun.
"Where exactly are we going?" she asked, her voice breaking the quiet.
Damon glanced over his shoulder. "To the Witch's Hollow. It's where the High Priestess last performed her rituals. We might find traces of her magic there."
"And you're sure she's still alive?"
"I'm sure," he said, his voice firm, though his gaze flickered with something else — doubt, perhaps, or buried fear.
Selene quickened her pace to walk beside him. "You said the High Priestess cursed you. That she's the one who tied our fates together. But why would she do that?"
Damon's jaw tightened. "Because she hated what I represented. The forbidden union of vampire and witch. A crack in their precious balance."
"But it's more than that, isn't it?" Selene pressed. "It's personal."
He didn't answer right away, but the tension in his shoulders told her she was right.
"She wasn't just a witch," he said finally. "She was my mother's closest friend. Until she betrayed her."
Selene's breath caught. The story was unraveling in layers she hadn't expected.
"The High Priestess believed my mother had broken the sacred laws by loving my father," Damon continued, his voice distant. "But it wasn't just about laws. It was about power. My birth threatened to shift the balance. I was proof that their rules could be broken. That their control could be challenged."
"And so she cursed you."
"And so she cursed me," he echoed. "A curse woven so tightly into my blood that only a witch bearing the blood moon's mark could undo it."
Selene's hand drifted to the glowing sigil on her palm. "Did she know about me?"
"She knew you would come. She set it all in motion."
A chill scraped down Selene's spine. All her life she had believed her mark was a punishment, a cruel twist of fate. But now, it seemed, it had been orchestrated. She was not just a product of chance — she was a pawn in a game far older than she could imagine.
They walked in silence for a while, the weight of Damon's revelation pressing heavily between them.
Eventually, the forest began to thin, revealing a clearing where twisted stones formed a crude circle. The air here was colder, the trees leaning in as if eavesdropping.
"This is it," Damon said, his voice low. "The Witch's Hollow."
Selene felt the magic here immediately. It pulsed beneath her feet, vibrating through the earth like the faint echo of a heartbeat. Old spells lingered in the air — some dormant, some still faintly alive.
She stepped cautiously into the stone circle, her fingers brushing the rough edges of the nearest pillar.
"These stones," she whispered. "They're wards."
"Very old ones," Damon confirmed. "Meant to hide what happens here from prying eyes."
Selene's gaze drifted to the center of the circle, where a cracked stone basin sat, its surface stained with something dark.
"Blood rituals," she murmured, her throat tightening.
Damon nodded. "The High Priestess was known for them."
Selene circled the basin, feeling the lingering threads of magic still coiled around it. Instinctively, she opened Damon's mother's journal and flipped to a page marked with a faded ribbon.
The sketch on the page mirrored the stone basin exactly.
"She came here often," Selene realized. "This is where she bound your curse."
Damon's eyes flicked to the journal. "Does it say how?"
Selene traced the intricate runes sketched beside the drawing, her pulse quickening. "It's… complicated. The curse wasn't just tied to your blood. It's anchored to someone else's life force."
Damon stilled. "What does that mean?"
"It means…" She hesitated, rereading the entry. "The curse can't break unless the anchor is destroyed."
"Who's the anchor?"
Selene's stomach twisted as she read further. The writing was rushed, desperate.
The anchor is the one she loves most.
Her breath caught.
"It says… the anchor is the one she loves most." Selene's voice trembled as the weight of the words settled on her. "The High Priestess tied your curse to someone she cherished."
Damon's eyes darkened, understanding slicing through him. "Her daughter."
Selene's throat tightened. "She sacrificed her own daughter to bind you?"
"Not sacrificed. Anchored." Damon's voice was laced with disgust. "She kept her daughter alive to ensure the curse endured. If her daughter dies… the curse unravels."
Selene's mind reeled. This was more than just a spell. It was a web of manipulation and cruelty that had spanned centuries.
"But if we find her daughter…" Selene's voice faltered.
Damon's gaze hardened. "We'll find her."
Selene swallowed the lump in her throat. Could she really kill an innocent woman — someone who hadn't chosen to be part of this?
Could Damon?
Before she could voice her doubts, a sharp crack echoed from the trees.
Damon's head snapped toward the sound, his stance instantly shifting from brooding companion to lethal predator.
"We're not alone," he growled.
Selene's pulse spiked. "Bloodfangs?"
"Something worse."
Shadows unfurled at the edge of the clearing, materializing into figures draped in crimson robes, their faces hidden beneath hoods. Selene recognized the sigils stitched into their garments.
The Witch Council.
The witches raised their hands, murmuring in unison. The runes on the stone pillars began to glow, sealing the circle, trapping Selene and Damon inside.
"You have something that belongs to us," one of the witches hissed, her voice cold as steel.
Selene's hand flared with power. "I'm not going with you."
"You misunderstand," the witch sneered. "We're not here to take you. We're here to end you."
Magic crackled in the air. Damon lunged, his blade a blur, slicing through one of the witches before she could finish her spell. The others retaliated, hurling bolts of fire and shadow.
Selene dove behind a stone pillar, her heart hammering. She summoned her magic, releasing a wave of force that knocked two witches off their feet. But they recovered quickly, their spells relentless.
Damon fought like a beast unleashed, his movements deadly and precise. But there were too many.
Selene realized with cold clarity that they had come prepared — they knew Damon's weaknesses, knew the magic that could wound him.
"Damon!" she screamed as one of the witches struck him with a binding spell, chains of light wrapping around his limbs.
He snarled, struggling against the magical restraints, his eyes blazing.
Selene's hands trembled as she flipped through the journal, desperate for something, anything that could break the spell.
A single word burned on the page: Blood.
Without thinking, Selene sliced her palm with a dagger Damon had given her. Her blood sizzled against the stone as she slammed her hand down, channeling her power through the ancient runes.
A pulse of magic erupted from the ground, shattering the chains around Damon.
He moved with feral speed, slaying the remaining witches, their screams echoing into the trees.
Silence fell, broken only by Selene's ragged breathing.
Damon dropped to his knees beside her, his hand on her bleeding palm.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said, his voice low but laced with something that wasn't quite anger — something closer to fear.
"You would've died," she whispered.
His crimson gaze met hers. "You don't know what you've done."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Blood magic is… binding." His hand trembled slightly as he gripped hers. "By using your blood to free me, you've deepened our connection."
Selene's heart skipped. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "if I die… you die."
The weight of his words settled heavily in her chest.
Their fates weren't just linked by prophecy anymore. Now, they were tethered by blood.
Ties that should not exist.
Selene stared at him, her throat tight. "Then I guess we better make sure neither of us dies."
For the first time, Damon's lips twitched into something real — not a smirk, not a mask, but a true smile, however fleeting.
"Together," he said.
She nodded, determination hardening in her bones. "Together."
As they prepared to leave the hollow, Selene realized the Witch Council wouldn't stop. The Bloodfangs wouldn't stop. And somewhere out there, the High Priestess waited, her anchor still alive, her plans still unfolding.
But Selene was no longer a pawn.
She was something else now.
She was Damon's tether.
And she would fight for both their lives — or die trying.