(Rhea's POV)

The late afternoon air clinging to the corridor walls felt damp and heavy, as if the building itself was swallowing the breath of anyone who entered. Our footsteps echoed out of sync-Callum with his quick pace that always stayed a little ahead, Kaelan with his calm, measured steps that made me want to hide behind his back, and Anselma who moved almost soundlessly, like a shadow slipping along the edge of the world.

Me? I dragged my feet, my bag feeling heavier with each step. Not just because of the papers and symbols inside, but because of something I couldn't see-energy, or maybe a curse-that pulsed and burned hotter against the strap. It was like carrying a coal pretending to be asleep, ready to flare up any second.

"Stop fidgeting with your bag strap," Kaelan's voice cut through the silence. His eyes flicked toward me, cold but with a protective layer underneath. "If it feels hot, let it be. But don't let go."

I swallowed hard. "What if my bag suddenly explodes?"

"It's just a piece of paper. It won't explode."

I shot him a skeptical look. "Just, you say?"

Kaelan nodded. His face was calm, and that calmness only spiked my emotions.

"Yeah... just a piece of paper. But people like you-dangerous people-are fighting over it. And this paper clearly isn't just paper. Are you still gonna use the word just for this?"

Kaelan stopped walking, forcing Callum, Anselma, and me to stop too. He studied me carefully. "I can guarantee your safety. So trust everything I say-it's for your own good."

His words left me stunned. Whatever comeback I had died on my tongue.

Next to me, Callum clicked his tongue. "Honestly," he muttered, twirling his telescopic staff casually, "I'm more scared of Kaelan when he's like this than of that insane cult waiting for us at the gallery. Usually when he's this calm, it ends one of two ways: we all make it out alive... or we all die together."

I glanced at him, half wanting to snap back, half wanting to laugh at how terrible his timing was. But before I could speak, Anselma-silent this whole time-finally said something. Her voice was low, calm, but cutting.

"No one will die... as long as they know which path to choose."

Callum snorted, eyes narrowing at her. "And you know which path, huh? Is that it?"

Anselma didn't answer. She just pulled her raincoat hood tighter and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. Like someone unwilling to talk to other humans, preferring instead to commune with her own shadow. I didn't know what to make of her-fear her, trust her, or hate her.

Was she good? Or was she pretending, waiting to drag us all down?

I took a deep breath, my voice cracking as it escaped. "Earlier... you said the painting had already come alive. What did you mean?"

For the first time, Anselma actually turned to look at me. Her gaze was so intense it made my skin crawl. "I meant it's no longer just paint on canvas. That painting has become a door. And someone... from the other side, has already started pushing back."

"I still don't get it."

"You'll understand when we get to the gallery," Kaelan replied.

***

The car sped through streets that were slowly growing busier. From behind the glass, the evening light painted tall buildings in gold, casting long shadows across the asphalt. I sat in the back seat with Anselma, while Kaelan drove and Callum sat beside him. The hum of the engine and the rush of the wind were the only sounds filling the car.

Since we left, I'd barely said a word. My silence was heavy with questions. About what was really happening. About who was truly on the right side.

Honestly... everything I'd experienced today was impossible to fully process.

I exhaled sharply. My thoughts scattered when Kaelan's voice broke through.

"What do you think... who actually sent those people?" Kaelan asked Callum.

Callum sighed deeply, eyes locked on the road. "If they were just random hunters, they wouldn't have weapons that effective. The wolfsbane they used was specially made, and clearly their target wasn't random. They knew what they were after. They knew who we are."

I saw Kaelan's jaw tighten from the side, his brow furrowing. "You think this has something to do with-"

"The Pack," Callum cut him off quickly, his tone cold. "Or more specifically... someone who wants us back, whether we agree or not."

"The elders..." Kaelan murmured.

"I'm not surprised if they're involved," I added. "But I thought they were still busy with internal matters. Why send people after us now?"

Callum glanced briefly at Kaelan before looking back at the road. "Maybe because of you, Kaelan."

"Me?"

"Yeah. They've been uncomfortable with your decisions for a long time. You ignored their summons, refused to return. They said there was something important to discuss. But you stayed here. They could easily see you as... a threat."

Kaelan scoffed. "A threat? I just-"

"You're the heir, Kaelan." Callum's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "Did you forget that?"

Kaelan went silent for a moment. "I tried to forget, at least for a while. Living outside the pack makes me feel... freer. But apparently, they'll never truly let me go."

"That's the problem."

"So, they want me back by force?" Kaelan asked quietly.

Callum gave a slight nod. "That's my guess. But there's another possibility too."

I turned to him, waiting for an answer. Kaelan did the same.

"What?" Kaelan asked.

"They might not be from the elders at all. It could be outsiders exploiting the situation. Someone who wants us divided. And... who's been after the Moon Painting from the very beginning."

"I can't go back now," Kaelan said heavily. "If I return to the pack, that's walking straight into their trap. I'm not ready to face the elders and their games yet."

Callum tapped his fingers against the window. "Sooner or later, you'll have to. Otherwise, it'll only get worse. You know that."

Kaelan stayed quiet.

"Remember the elders' last message?" Callum asked again.

Kaelan scoffed. "Of course. 'Come back before it's too late.'"

Callum turned, his eyes sharp. "And what do you think they meant by too late? Too late for them? Or... too late for you?"

His words sent a chill down my spine. Especially since Kaelan didn't answer, his eyes fixed firmly on the road.

And then... silence again. This time heavier, thicker.

I finally leaned forward, my head poking between their seats. I couldn't hold it anymore.

"Do you guys even realize I'm here? I mean, you're the ones who dragged me into this insane mess."

Kaelan glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his face calm but his clenched jaw gave him away. Callum, on the other hand, chuckled softly, like he was entertained by my frustration.

"What do you want to know, Rhea?" Kaelan asked flatly.

I met his gaze through the mirror. "What are you even talking about? What's this Pack? Who are the elders? And... what did your friend mean by heir?"

"You can only find those answers in our world, Rhea. And it won't be long before you'll know it too," Kaelan replied.

I wanted to push for more, but Anselma's piercing eyes made me bite my tongue.

"Then why were those people after me? Why are they looking for me? Am I some kind of treasure? Worth dying for?"

The silence that followed cut sharper than before. Kaelan opened his mouth, but Callum beat him to it.

"Because you are a treasure, Miss Hale." Callum gave a faint smile, but his eyes were deadly serious. "The Moon Painting... it would never have reacted if it wasn't you who touched it. So of course they're after you."

My throat tightened. "What do you mean, reacted?"

"That painting is like a symbol," Anselma finally spoke, her soft words sharp as blades. "It's not just a seal. It's a key. And you..." she looked straight into my eyes, "are the hand chosen to turn it."

I shook my head, letting out a bitter laugh at the absurdity. "Chosen? Chosen by who? I never chose anything! I didn't even know about that painting until it showed up at the gallery-" I stopped, my anger threatening to spill over. "Please... can someone just explain this to me in plain human language? Not riddles?"

Callum leaned back in his seat with a long sigh. "Here's the short version. The painting holds a supernatural seal. It's been locked for ages. The seal gets passed down through generations, always landing in a certain family. No matter how hard they reject it, the painting always finds its way back to the rightful keyholder. And... yeah. You guessed it. The Hales."

I felt the blood drain from my face. My head spun, my vision blurring. "You mean... my family?"

Kaelan finally spoke, his voice low and cautious. "Rhea, there are things your family might never have told you. About the origin of your name. About why your grandparents lived near this land. About your bloodline. None of it... is a coincidence."

My head spun harder. I wanted to deny it, to call it nonsense. But the heat pulsing stronger from the bag on my lap left me speechless.

Just a piece of paper. Yet... how could it burn like this? Nothing about it was humanly logical.

"So..." my voice cracked, barely a whisper. "You think I'm the key to something trapped behind that canvas? Something I don't even understand or know exists?"

No one answered. Only the engine's hum and the tires on wet asphalt filled the space.

Until Callum finally muttered, so softly it was almost inaudible. "Not just something. But someone."

I snapped my head toward him. "What?"

But Callum said nothing more. He only stared ahead, as if he'd already said too much.

I slumped back into my seat, my chest tight. The world outside spun under the streetlights, but my mind was darker than ever.

Kaelan glanced at me again through the mirror. His voice was deep, almost like a vow. "Listen to me, Rhea. Whatever they want from you, I won't let them get it through you. Even if I have to fight and reveal my secrets to the world. I don't care, as long as they don't lay a hand on you."

For the first time since this all began, I caught a strange glimmer in his eyes-not just cold calmness, but something wilder. Something that scared me and... made me feel a twisted sense of safety at the same time.

I clutched the burning strap of my bag tighter. Only one sentence managed to leave my lips.

"Then I hope you keep that promise, Kaelan."

The car kept moving, carrying us closer to the gallery. And for some reason, every meter forward felt like stepping toward something I could never turn back from.

***

(Kaelan's POV)

The air inside the car grew heavier. Outside, neon lights reflected off the windows, stretching shadows across everyone's faces. My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I tried to sync my heartbeat with the engine's rhythm.

Every kilometer we drove toward the gallery felt like walking backward into the abyss I'd once left behind.

I knew the Elders must've already sensed us. The wolfsbane those hunters used earlier wasn't some cheap brew. That mix could only be obtained through very specific channels. And if they dared to use it in an open area, it meant someone inside the pack circle had purposely leaked the access.

I shifted my gaze to the rearview mirror. Rhea sat silently in the back seat after our earlier conversation, clutching that bag so tightly the heat from it was slowly raising the temperature inside the car. Damn it. Even from here I could feel it prickling against my skin.

She looked restless. Her eyes were glossy, but there was a small fire in them-an unsettling mix of fear, confusion, and anger.

And inside me, for some reason, I wanted to make sure that fire never went out.

"You need to tell her now."

Callum's voice cut into my head through the mindlink, echoing sharp and commanding.

My jaw clenched, heat rising in my chest. "Shut your mouth, Callum."

"She has a right to know, Kaelan. You saw what happened. She's already a target. Everyone knows that key is with her. If you keep hiding it, she'll break before she ever gets the chance to face it."

I pressed harder on the gas, swerving past another car with more force than necessary.

"This is all because of you. If you hadn't dragged her into this from the start-"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" Callum snapped back, his sarcasm sharp in my skull. "Yeah, I found the painting in the gallery. But who refused the Elder's orders to secure the artifact right away? Who said it'd be safer in a place 'out of their sight'? You. Every single choice comes back to you, Kaelan."

A low growl slipped from my throat, loud enough for Rhea to glance up briefly.

Shit. I had to keep it together in front of her.

"Listen carefully, Callum." My mindlink voice was almost a hiss. "I won't throw Rhea into the Elders' game. She's not a tool. She's not a key. She's just a human who got cursed with the Hale name and their bloodline. And I-I'll make sure she doesn't get crushed by our world."

There was a pause before Callum's voice came back, quieter this time.

"And if our world has already chosen her? Are you ready to fight everyone on your own?"

I didn't answer. Because deep down, I already knew.

***

The gallery finally came into view around the bend. An old colonial building, standing tall and proud in the narrow street, flanked by modern structures on either side. Its dusty high windows reflected the dim streetlights, like dead eyes watching anyone who dared approach.

The front lamp flickered weakly, nearly dead, while a thin mist crept across the empty courtyard, winding itself around the rusted iron fence. Even from a distance, the place radiated something off-like the building was breathing, exhaling cold air that pressed down on the chest of anyone near it.

As soon as the car stopped, the heat from Rhea's bag burst out stronger. Fog swirled across the windshield, not just blurring it, but spreading in strange web-like cracks that glowed faintly.

There it was again-that pulse. A foreign heartbeat, out of sync with any of ours. Loud. Relentless. Like it was counting down to something.

"Out," I ordered, my voice heavier than I meant.

Rhea glanced at me nervously before slowly opening her door. She still clutched the bag like letting it go would make her collapse.

Anselma got out without a sound, her raincoat fluttering lightly in the evening breeze, her face cold and still as a gravestone while she stared at the gallery. Callum, on the other hand, moved quickly, almost jittery, his shoulders stiff as his hand instinctively reached for the telescopic staff on his back.

I lingered by the car, eyes locked on the gallery doors. The wooden carvings were still the same-floral patterns framing the panels-but now cracks spiderwebbed through them, like the wood had been holding something back for too long. The aura seeping out was heavy, thick, and wrong, making the hairs on my neck stand on end.

My gaze flicked to Rhea again. She stood close by, rigid, her eyes glued to the building, her hands gripping the bag straps as if her life depended on it. And maybe... maybe it did.

"Kaelan." Anselma's voice cut through the silence, flat but sharp. "You do realize, once we step inside, there's no turning back."

I nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the door. "I know."

Callum let out a dry, bitter laugh, turning toward me. "Then stop pretending to be her perfect protector. She needs to know what's waiting behind that door. Otherwise, she'll break even faster."

I almost snapped back, my jaw already tight, but then-

Thud... thud... thud...

The gallery doors trembled. The sound was deep, heavy, like something inside was pounding, demanding to be released. The vibration ran through the ground, making the gravel rattle against the pavement.

Rhea flinched, her face paling. I knew this was her first time seeing anything like this. Her reaction was only natural.

"What... what is that?"

I kept my eyes on the door, drawing in a sharp breath before answering quietly.

"Something that should never wake up."

Thud... thud... THUD!

This time louder, until the hinges groaned. From the cracks in the wood, a strange sound slipped out-whispers, in a language most wolves wouldn't understand. But I understood.

The language of blood.

The language of the old bloodlines.

And the worst part... Rhea was reacting. Her body trembled, pupils dilated, her breathing quickened like something invisible was pulling her soul toward it. She turned to me with panicked eyes, but there was something there-something that wasn't fully hers anymore.

I moved fast, grabbing her arm tightly.

"Rhea, listen to me! Whatever you hear, ignore it. That voice isn't for you. It's a snare. Do you understand? It's a trap!"

She shook her head quickly, tears brimming.

"I... I can hear it, Kaelan... it's calling me... Kaelan, what's happening? Why is my head so loud?"

Shit. Exactly what I was afraid of.

I turned sharply to Callum and Anselma.

"We need to go in. Now. Otherwise, the painting will open the door on its own."

And right then-CRAACK!

One of the doors split down the middle. From the crack, a cold silver light shot out-not from any lamp, but from a forged moonlight. It spread across the courtyard, blinding and freezing all at once, stretching our shadows into warped shapes across the dusty ground.

I instantly moved, stepping in front of Rhea, my body acting as her shield. My heart pounded, my muscles locking tight, ready to shift if I had to.

Whatever was waiting inside that gallery...

Tonight, it wouldn't touch her.

***