EPISODE 8: MEMORIES BURIED IN NEON CITY

Scene 1: The Ashen Heart of Neon City

Neon City was a skeletal husk, its jagged skyline silhouetted against a bruise-purple sky. The air hung heavy with the stench of smoldering steel and scorched flesh, the streets choked with debris: shattered hologram billboards flickering static, overturned cars fused to pavement by dragon’s breath temperatures, and the occasional corpse half-buried under rubble—mafia enforcers in crimson ties, werewolves mid-shift. Elena picked her way through the carnage, her boots crunching on glass shards and bone. The Pact Blade at her thigh hummed like a trapped wasp, its obsidian hilt cold even through the leather sheath.

Her rose mark had metastasized, black veins branching from her collarbone to her jawline, throbbing in time with the distant howls of scavengers—human and lupine. She clutched her mother’s locket, its silver chain biting into her palm.

“Lilith…” she whispered, her voice raw from smoke and screams. “Where do I start? Where do I even look?”

The locket heated, its hinges creaking open of their own accord. A vision engulfed her:

Herself as a child, no older than six, clutching a stuffed wolf with one missing eye. Flames roared around her, devouring the Blackwater Orphanage’s wooden walls. A woman’s scream pierced the chaos: “Run, Elena! Don’t let them find you!” Hands—rough, male—grabbed her, dragging her into a secret passage beneath the floorboards. “Quiet, little hybrid,” a graveled voice warned. “Or they’ll burn us both.”

Elena gasped, staggering against a crumbling storefront. “The orphanage… there’s a tunnel. Someone saved me.”

She turned toward the Blackwater District, its skeletal buildings clawing at the horizon. Somewhere in that graveyard of memory lay the truth—and the key to saving Adrian.

Scene 2: The Ghosts of Blackwater

The Blackwater Orphanage stood like a sentinel of sorrow, its brick facade scorched black but stubbornly intact. The iron gates hung askew, their hinges screaming in the wind. Elena stepped over the threshold, her flashlight beam slicing through dust motes thick as snowfall.

The lobby was a museum of loss: charred dolls with melted faces, crayon drawings of stick-figure families peeling from the walls, a grand piano reduced to skeletal keys. Elena’s breath hitched as her light caught a faded mural—a wolf and rose entwined, painted in childish strokes.

“I did that,” she murmured, fingers brushing the cracked paint. “Before the fire.”

“Before they tried to kill you,” echoed a voice—Adrian’s, but distorted, as if filtered through water.

Elena spun, the Pact Blade singing as she drew it. “Where are you?”

“Everywhere,” the voice rasped. “Nowhere. The Beast… it’s hungry, Elena. And it remembers.”

A shadow flickered at the edge of her vision—golden eyes, a ripple of fur. She lunged, but the blade met only air.

“Focus,” she hissed, climbing the staircase, each step groaning under her weight.

Scene 3: The Attic of Forgotten Things

The attic was a time capsule sealed in amber. Slanting light filtered through grime-caked windows, illuminating a child’s bed with a moth-eaten quilt, a dresser stacked with crayon drawings, and a locked trunk carved with Silverthorne roses and Volt wolves.

Elena’s hands trembled as she knelt before the trunk. “My room. They never found this place.”

The lock yielded to her blood—a drop from her rose mark. Inside:

Lilith’s Journal: Leather-bound, pages brittle with age.

A Vial of Black Blood: Labeled “Lycan-X Prototype – Subject 001.”

A Stained Onesie: Embroidered with “Elena Volt-Silverthorne.”

A Silver Locket: Identical to hers, containing a photo of a young man with Adrian’s amber eyes.

“Volt… Silverthorne.” Elena traced the onesie’s stitching. “Adrian’s name. But… how?”

The journal fell open to a tear-stained entry:

“My dearest Elena, if you’re reading this, I’ve failed. Your father wasn’t a mafia don—he was Adrian’s uncle, Alaric Volt, a man who loved me despite the Pact. Our marriage was forbidden, but we dreamed of uniting our families. The Blood Moon Council killed him for it. Now they’ll come for you. Hide, my love. And if you survive… break the curse. Love, Mother.”

Elena’s vision blurred. “Adrian’s uncle. My father. Which makes us—”

The floorboards creaked. Kieran—or the thing wearing his corpse—stood in the doorway, his black runes pulsing with the First Alpha’s golden fire.

“Cousins,” the First Alpha purred through Kieran’s lips. “How deliciously Shakespearean.”

Scene 4: The Blood of Betrayal

Elena backed against the wall, the Pact Blade raised. “Stay away.”

The First Alpha tilted Kieran’s head, his movements unnervingly fluid, like a marionette on strings. “Or what? You’ll stab me? Again?” He laughed, the sound layered with centuries of malice. “This body is a vessel. But you… you are precious. The last living heir of both bloodlines. Your death will complete me. Your child—”

“What child?” Elena snarled, though her stomach dropped.

“The one growing inside you,” the First Alpha crooned. “Conceived under the blood moon, bound by the Pact Blade. A perfect vessel.”

Elena’s free hand instinctively pressed to her abdomen. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” He gestured to the mural. "The Witch of Roses bore the First Alpha’s child. History repeats.”

Elena lunged, slashing the blade across Kieran’s arm. Black blood splattered the walls, hissing like acid.

“You think that hurts me?” The First Alpha grinned as the wound sealed. “This body is disposable. But yours… yours is art.”

She grabbed the vial of black blood from the trunk and hurled it. The glass shattered against his chest, dousing him in liquid shadow.

“NO!” The First Alpha recoiled, golden eyes dimming. “You dare use my blood against me?”

“Thanks for the tip,” Elena spat, bolting past him.

Scene 5: The Underground Labyrinth

Beneath the orphanage, a hidden trapdoor led to a labyrinth of tunnels older than Neon City itself. The walls were lined with ancient murals—some depicting the First Alpha and the Witch of Roses in tender embraces, others showing their love curdling into betrayal as silver-clad hunters tore their child apart.

Elena’s flashlight beam caught a stone altar at the labyrinth’s heart, its surface stained with centuries of sacrificial blood. Carvings of wolves and roses spiraled toward a central crystal basin, now filled with stagnant water.

“You.”

Adrian stepped from the shadows, his blackened runes writhing like serpents under his skin. His eyes flickered between gold and void-black, the Beast’s growl warring with his human voice. “Why did you come here?”

Elena approached slowly, the Pact Blade lowered but ready. “To save you. To save us.”

“Too late,” the Beast snarled, claws elongating. “The curse is me now.”

She pressed her palm to the altar, letting her blood drip into the basin. “Then I’ll remind you who you are.”

The water erupted in a geyser of light, projecting holograms of their ancestors:

The First Alpha (a mirror of Adrian) and the Witch of Roses (Elena’s twin) stood hand-in-hand, their infant son cradled between them. “The Pact was never meant to chain us,” the Witch said. “It was a vow—to protect both our kinds.”

But shadows gathered—men in silver armor, their blades glinting. “They fear what they don’t understand,” the Alpha growled. “We must hide. Divide.”

The Witch wept as she carved the first rune into his chest. “Divide, but never break.”

Adrian staggered, clutching his head. “Stop…”

“Look at them!” Elena cried. “They loved each other. Just like we could’ve—”

“LOVE KILLED THEM!” the Beast roared, swiping the basin. It shattered, the holograms dissolving. “And it’ll kill us!”

The crypt quaked, stones raining from the ceiling. The murals shifted, revealing a third figure—a child with Elena’s eyes and Adrian’s runes, its tiny hand clasping a dagger.

“Our child,” the Witch of Roses whispered through Elena. “The curse’s true heir.”

Adrian collapsed, his runes flickering between gold and black. “Elena…”

But the First Alpha’s laugh echoed through the tunnels. Kieran’s corpse staggered into the chamber, golden light pouring from his eyes and mouth.

“Perfect,” the First Alpha crooned. “A new vessel.”

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