A cursed land

The world was a haze when Valtor’s eyes fluttered open. Pain pulsed through his body, dull yet persistent, as if his very blood had been set on fire. He groaned, his hand unconsciously moving to his side, where the wounds should have been. Instead, his skin was smooth, its earlier ugly sides gone.

“What the—” he muttered, his voice hoarse. Memories of Gaia flashed through his mind, her tears, her blood spilling onto his injuries, and then…darkness.

“Gaia,” he muttered, panic forming in his chest as he pushed himself into a sitting position. The world around him spun, but he fought against the dizziness, reaching for the floor to steady himself. The bed felt too empty.

Where is she?

A rush of adrenaline sent him to his feet. His body swayed, but he quickly managed to compose himself, staggering toward the door. His hand gripped the handle, and he pulled it open with force.

“Where is she?!” Valtor demanded, his voice sharp and commanding.

Damon, his Beta, stood in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. He stepped forward quickly, his calm demeanor slipping under Valtor’s intense gaze.

“You’re awake,” Damon said, his voice strained with relief. “Thank the Moon.”

Damon quickly gestured to the servants lingering near the doorway, signaling them to bring water for their Alpha. One of them hurried forward, a glass in trembling hands, but before they could approach, Valtor’s growl cut through the room like a blade.

The servant froze, their face paling, before retreating with a muttered apology, the glass still untouched. The others followed suit, vanishing from sight.

Valtor’s piercing gaze snapped back to Damon, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“I asked you a question, Damon. I don’t recall needing to wait for a reply—or did I suddenly grow fond of wasting time?”

Damon hesitated, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The unease in his expression only made Valtor’s chest tighten further. “Alpha, we… we don’t know.”

Valtor took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean you don’t know?!”

Damon held up his hands in a reassuring gesture. “She vanished. After…” He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "She disappeared into the abyss, Alpha. No one has been able to trace her since."

Valtor’s heart skipped a beat, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He could still feel the bond between them—the raw, unspoken connection. But it was weaker now, strained. Something’s wrong. I should be able to feel her.

“Vanished into the abyss?” Valtor repeated, disbelieving his words. His mind raced, trying to make sense of it. He couldn’t understand how someone, especially Gaia, could simply vanish.

“It’s as if the world just swallowed her up,” Damon said, lowering his voice. “We’ve searched everywhere. There’s no trace of her.”

Valtor’s fists clenched at his sides, a flare of anger igniting in him. “She can’t just disappear, Damon. We have to find her. Now.”

Damon sighed, stepping aside to let Valtor move past him. “I didn’t want to say anything, but there’s more.”

“What do you mean?”

Damon reached into his cloak, pulling out a small, bloodstained piece of cloth. Valtor’s gaze snapped to it, the familiar scent of Gaia’s blood washing over him. His heart jolted in his chest as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to take the cloth. The fabric was soft, almost delicate, but what caught his eye wasn’t just the blood—it was the dark, intricate symbol engraved into it.

“Where did you find this?” Valtor demanded, studying the mark. It was ancient—too old to belong to anyone he knew. The swirling pattern seemed to pulse with an energy he couldn’t place.

“We found it near the last place Gaia was seen,” Damon explained, his voice low. “The abyss… but this symbol…” He paused. “It’s connected to the Dreadfall Citadel.”

The name hit Valtor like a physical blow. Dreadfall Citadel. It was a place whispered about only in the darkest of legends—a fortress hidden in mystery and fear, a place where no one returned from.

Valtor’s jaw tightened. “Are you telling me she’s there?”

Damon nodded, his eyes grim. “The elders believe it’s where she’s been taken. There’s no other explanation for the symbol. It’s tied to that cursed place.”

Valtor felt the ground beneath him shift, his pulse racing with both fury and desperation. “Then we go there. Now.”

“But, Alpha, the Citadel is—”

“I don’t care what it is, Damon!” Valtor’s voice cracked like thunder, a fierce light gleaming in his eyes. “If Gaia is there, I’ll drag her out myself. Prepare the pack. We leave at once.”

Damon hesitated, clearly troubled by the urgency of the situation. “Valtor, there’s something else you need to understand. Dreadfall isn’t just a place. It’s a living, breathing entity. Those who venture there… don’t return the same. If we go there, we’re risking everything.”

Valtor’s eyes hardened. “I’m not risking anything. I’m going to get her back.”

He turned sharply, not waiting for an answer. His mind was fixed on the journey ahead. The ache of Gaia’s absence weighed heavily on him, driving him to face any danger or challenge. She was out there, and he would find her.

As Damon followed him, the door of the room creaked shut behind them, the weight of the mission heavy in the air. There would be no turning back.

Their Alpha was venturing into a cursed land.