The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 88: Forbidden Scrolls

The corridor to Celeste’s sanctum was rarely walked. Magnolia had passed it before, always told never to enter, never to question what lay behind the iron-laced door carved with ancient glyphs. But today, something pulled at her. A whisper in her blood. A tug deep within her marrow. She didn’t knock.

The door creaked open, revealing a chamber cloaked in dust and moonlight. The air was thick with the scent of herbs, smoke, and time. Scrolls lined the curved walls, not parchment, but old wolfhide, tanned and inked in silver and black. Moonstones pulsed softly from the floor. A brazier burned silently at the far end, casting restless shadows.

Magnolia stepped in slowly, her fingers brushing a carved obsidian table. She knew instinctively this was not a place for the uninvited. Yet she moved forward.

"You shouldn’t be here."

Celeste’s voice was neither warm nor furious. It was flat. Tired. The elder stood behind the brazier, the fire outlining her sharp cheekbones and the white streak that split her dark hair. She wore a robe the color of midnight, embroidered with silver runes.

"I didn’t mean to intrude," Magnolia said, her voice steady, though her heart thundered.

"Yet here you are."

Magnolia turned toward the wall of scrolls. One in particular glowed faintly. She didn’t ask permission. She stepped closer.

"Don’t touch it," Celeste warned.

"What is it?"

Celeste took a slow breath. "Luna War Scripts. Written during the First Fracture. They were bound in the flesh of fallen Seers and inked with blood from Luna herself."

Magnolia swallowed hard. "You kept this from the council?"

"Of course I did. Knowledge is power. And power in the wrong hands ends empires."

Magnolia’s fingers hovered over the glowing scroll. "Why am I drawn to it, then?"

Celeste moved forward. Her eyes bore into Magnolia’s. "Because your wolf isn’t just Spellbinder. There’s something older. Something raw. That scroll responds to bloodlines, not curiosity."

"Then let me read it."

"No."

The word hit like a slap.

Magnolia stood her ground. "I’ve seen things, Celeste. Felt things. Since Rhett touched me... something changed. There’s fire in my bones. Memory that isn’t mine."

Celeste looked pained. "You should not have bonded. Not yet. Not before the Hollow turns."

"Too late."

There was a silence so thick it pressed against their skin.

"If you read that scroll," Celeste said softly, "you risk breaking your mind."

Magnolia looked at her, steady and calm. "Then let it break."

She reached out and touched the scroll.

The air cracked.

The brazier exploded into high flame. The moonstones flared. The room groaned as if the walls themselves had memory. And then, the scroll unfurled on its own, spinning into the air.

Magnolia gasped as light poured into her eyes. Symbols flooded her mind. She stumbled backward, her pupils gone silver.

Celeste rushed forward. "Magnolia!"

But the younger woman wasn’t screaming. She was laughing. Quietly. Darkly.

"They lied," Magnolia whispered. "All of them. The prophecy isn’t just about Camille. It’s about what comes after her. It’s about me."

"What did you see?"

"Fire. Chains. A crown made of bone."

Celeste caught her by the shoulders. "You weren’t supposed to see this yet."

"Maybe I was. Maybe that’s why I came here. Maybe that’s why the scroll called."

Celeste stepped back, shaken. "If you let it in, Magnolia, you won’t come out the same."

Magnolia’s lips curved into a quiet, haunted smile. "Then it’s already too late."

Behind them, the scrolls began to rustle as if wind moved through the sealed chamber.

Celeste turned, alarmed. "They’re waking. You’ve awakened them all."

Magnolia didn’t flinch.

"Let them wake."

The dreams had grown wilder, more visceral. They never came softly anymore.

Rhett’s body jerked upright in the vast, darkened chamber, drenched in sweat. The silk sheets clung to his skin, and a fever burned through his veins. His breaths came in harsh pants, his chest rising and falling as if he had run a hundred miles. The scent of smoke still lingered in his nostrils, not just imagined. Felt. Breathed.

"The throne is not yours unless you bleed for it."

His mother’s voice. Not the gentle lullaby of memory but a stern whisper coated in ash and fire. He swore he could feel her hands against his shoulders, pushing him toward something vast, violent, and inevitable.

Rhett swung his legs off the bed and rose, nearly stumbling. His balance was off, instincts disoriented. His wolf paced beneath his skin, restless, teeth bared, sensing a pull that wasn’t physical but ancient.

As he stepped toward the carved mirror near the window, something glinted in the moonlight. Claw marks. Fresh. Four red streaks carved across his chest, blood drying like forgotten war paint. Not a dream.

Behind him, a voice murmured, low and velvet.

"You’re being called."

He turned.

Magnolia stood in the shadows of the doorway, barefoot, hair loose around her shoulders. The moonlight gilded her cheekbones, made her skin look like porcelain dipped in silver. Her robe clung to her frame like mist, sheer enough to show the battle scars that traced her collarbone, the symbol of their kind etched just below.

Rhett didn’t flinch. "You felt it too?"

She stepped forward. "We all did. The Hollowfang legacy doesn’t wait for permission. It demands blood."

He stared at her, jaw clenched. "They think I’m not ready."

Magnolia’s lips curled, not quite a smile. "You were born ready. But you’ve been trying to avoid it. The wolf doesn’t avoid war. He runs toward it."

His eyes dropped to the claw marks. "Then who did this?"

She stepped closer, so close he could feel the heat from her skin. Her hand reached up, fingers grazing the wound. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t.

"You did," she whispered. "In your sleep. You fought something in your dream, something old. Something that wanted you dead."

His pulse surged. "What was it?"

"The past."

He turned away, but she caught his wrist.

"You can’t keep running, Rhett. You’re not just the Syndicate’s son. You are the storm they feared would rise."

He looked at her then, really looked. The girl he had once protected had grown into a weapon of her own. Sharp eyes. Sharper heart.

"Then stay," he said. "When it comes for me, when this, whatever it is, comes to claim me, will you stay?"

Magnolia didn’t blink. "No. I will fight beside you. There’s a difference."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, nothing else existed. Then, the chamber shook.

A distant rumble. Like footsteps of giants. Or wolves.

Rhett moved to the window, flung it open. From the heights of the Citadel, the Hollowfang valley spread out like a sleeping beast. But tonight, it stirred. Fires lit in scattered points. Howls echoed.

The armies were moving.

He gripped the stone. "They’re answering a call."

"No," Magnolia said behind him, her voice low. "They’re answering yours."

He turned back. "I didn’t summon them."

She raised a brow. "Didn’t you? What did you dream?"

He exhaled, eyes far away. "A field of ash. My father kneeling. My mother burned. Then... I stood alone, and the sky opened."

Magnolia stepped into the moonlight. "That’s not just a dream. That’s a vision."

His heart hammered. He clenched his fists. "Then I need to be ready."

She approached and placed a hand over his heart.

"You are. But it won’t be strength alone that saves you. It will be who you choose to become."

He searched her gaze. "And if I lose myself?"

Magnolia leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Then I’ll drag you back."

A pause. The heat between them shifted. Her breath hitched. So did his.

"Magnolia..."

"Don’t speak. Not now."

Their lips met, not soft, not slow, but desperate. As if their souls had waited too long for this moment. Their bodies collided like thunderheads, all heat and hunger and fury.

Then she broke the kiss first, stepping back, breathless.

"Prepare for war, Alpha. This night was your awakening. But tomorrow... tomorrow you lead."

The ground trembled again. Not a dream. Not a warning. A beginning.

Rhett looked down at the claw marks on his chest. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

He finally understood what they meant.

His wolf had chosen.

And there would be no going back.