Elara's POV
The next night Dante found her again trying to practice magic.
She was frustrated and angry and desperate in a way she could not quite explain. Her magic was all she had ever been. Without it, she was just a dying girl wrapped in cursed skin.
Dante knelt in front of her without asking permission this time.
"Let me help," he said.
Elara wanted to refuse. Wanted to push him away and prove she could do this alone. But her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold them steady.
She nodded.
Dante positioned himself behind her and placed his hands beneath hers. His skin was warm. Solid. Real. The bond thrummed between them like a second heartbeat and she could feel something flowing from him into her through the connection.
Strength. Not forcing her magic. Just offering his own power like a bridge.
"Feel the magic inside you," Dante whispered and his breath was warm against her ear. "The part that is still yours. Before the curse. Before all the pain. Just the pure magic that made you who you are."
Elara closed her eyes and searched inside herself. Her magic was there but it was fading. Getting quieter. Like a light being slowly dimmed.
She reached for it anyway.
The spark that appeared in her palm was stronger than anything she had managed alone. Violet light spread across her hands. Actual light. Real power.
Dante's support made all the difference. She could feel him anchoring her, keeping her from spiraling into the curse's darkness. The bond between them hummed with purpose.
Fire bloomed.
Real fire this time. Not just a spark but actual flames licking up from her palms. She had done it. She had actually created something instead of watching herself disappear.
Then it all crashed at once.
Her magic shattered like glass. The connection snapped. The fire died and Elara gasped as the backlash hit her chest.
She collapsed backward and Dante caught her before she could fall. His arms came around her and she was suddenly pressed against his chest, her body trembling, her heart hammering against his.
This was the first time anyone had caught her fall without wanting something in return.
The thought terrified her more than the curse ever could.
Elara pulled away quickly, scrambling backward. Dante let her go immediately even though she could see the hurt flash across his face.
"Do not," she said, her voice shaking. "Do not do that again. Do not make me think I can lean on you."
"You can," Dante said quietly. "That is what I am here for."
But Elara was already turning away. She could not accept that. Could not believe that someone would help her without expecting something broken in return.
Over the next days she had to learn to accept it anyway because the alternative was dying alone.
Thea showed up the next morning carrying an armful of books. Dante's younger sister was bright and fierce and absolutely impossible to avoid.
"These are about werewolf bonds," Thea said, dumping them on the bed next to Elara. "I thought you might want to understand what is happening to you. You know. Scientifically. So you are not going in blind."
Elara tried to refuse but Thea had already left before she could speak.
Knox came by in the afternoon with food and terrible jokes.
"Why did the werewolf go to the library?" he asked, setting down a tray of soup and bread.
Elara ignored him.
"To get some paws and reflection," Knox continued, grinning. "Come on. That was at least a little funny."
It was not. But Knox's warmth and his refusal to let her be miserable started to wear her down. By the third day she found herself almost smiling at his jokes.
Almost.
Mira came every morning to check the curse progression. Every day her expression got more worried.
"The marks are spreading faster," Mira said, examining the dark lines that now covered both Elara's shoulders and crept down her ribs toward her heart. "The curse is accelerating again."
Elara could feel it. Could feel the wolf growing stronger inside her. It was not just clawing at her anymore. It was pushing. Fighting. Like it was running out of patience.
"How long?" Elara asked quietly.
"Days," Mira said. "Maybe less. When the curse reaches your heart completely, the transformation will be involuntary. Your body will shift whether you want it to or not."
After Mira left, Elara lay in bed and felt the dark marks pulse across her skin. She could see them now. Could see how they spread with each heartbeat. Could see herself being slowly replaced by something else.
She spent the day reading Thea's books. About mating bonds. About werewolves. About transformation and pack bonds and things that made no sense to a mage who had spent her whole life fighting against magic she did not choose.
But one thing stood out. The mate bond was supposed to help with transformation. Was supposed to make it easier. Less painful.
Elara knew what that meant. Accepting Dante's bond was the only way to survive the shift without being torn apart from the inside.
She still did not know if she could do it.
That night the pain started.
It began as a dull ache in her bones and became something explosive. Elara woke gasping and found her entire body was on fire. The dark marks glowed brighter than they ever had. The wolf inside her was not just pushing anymore. It was clawing its way out.
She tried to call for Dante but her voice came out as a howl.
Her bones started to bend.
Elara screamed as her skeleton shifted and reformed. Her jaw felt like it was breaking. Her fingers were curling into claws. Her skin felt like it was stretching across a form that did not belong to her.
This was it. This was the transformation Mira warned about.
And she was going through it alone.
Her body convulsed violently. She tried to fight it, tried to hold onto her human form, tried to stop the change with pure willpower.
It did not work.
Hair erupted across her skin. Her spine arched as it reshaped. Her scream echoed through the house and she heard the sound of boots running toward her room.
But it was too late to stop it.
The transformation took over completely and Elara felt herself dissolving into something else. Something feral. Something wild. Something that was not her.
She was becoming the monster that killed her family.
And she was screaming as it happened.