Chapter 13The Vessel's Choice

The tunnel narrowed to a choke point where the walls bled moisture and the phosphorescent moss cast everything in sickly green. Rissa planted herself in the center, claws extended, lungs burning with each breath. The corruption coiled beneath her skin, eager, whispering promises of strength if she would only let go.

*Let me help you. Let me save them.*

She shook her head, snarling at the dark.

The first wolf rounded the corner at full sprint—a young enforcer, eyes wild with the pack's fury. Rissa caught him across the face with her claws, sending him crashing into the wall. The second came low, aiming for her legs. She sidestepped, drove her knee into his skull, and felt bone give way.

Two down. A dozen more behind them.

The howls grew louder, bouncing off the stone until she couldn't tell which direction they came from. Another wolf lunged. She gutted him mid-air, but the third slipped past her guard, raking claws across her ribs. Pain bloomed hot and sharp, and the corruption surged to meet it, flooding her veins with liquid fire.

*Yes. Let me in.*

She blinked, and when her eyes opened, the tunnel seemed sharper, the moss brighter, the wolves slower. She moved before thought, her body responding to instinct alone. The next attacker fell with his throat torn out. The one after that screamed as she shattered his arm.

More came. She met them all.

But the corruption wasn't satisfied. It wanted more—wanted her to *enjoy* this. And somewhere beneath the rage, a cold part of her realized she was starting to.

"Enough."

The voice cut through the chaos like a blade. The remaining wolves froze, stepping back, parting to reveal Vance.

He looked nothing like the alpha she remembered. The Moonstone's corruption had reshaped him—his face a mask of cracked stone, veins of blue light pulsing beneath his skin. His eyes glowed with the same sick luminescence as the moss.

But his voice remained steady. Human.

"Rissa." He said her name like a prayer. "Look at what you've become."

She looked down at her hands. Claws, blood, the fur spreading up her wrists. She was halfway to her wolf, but the shift felt *wrong*—not her own, but something the corruption was forcing.

"I'm not the one who's changed," she spat.

Vance smiled, and the expression was almost sad. "You shattered the stone. You think that freed you? It only made you the next vessel."

The words hit like a physical blow. Lorna had said the same thing, but hearing it from Vance made it real in a different way.

"I won't serve you."

"You already serve the stone. The only question is whether you serve it blindly or with purpose." He took a step closer, and the wolves parted around him like water. "Submit to me, and I'll spare your sister. I'll spare the journalist. I'll even spare Lorna, though she deserves worse than death for her betrayal."

Rissa's claws dug into her palms. "You're lying."

"I don't need to lie." Vance spread his hands. "The corruption inside you will grow. It will consume you, reshape you, make you into a new Moonstone. The only difference is whether you fight it and die in agony, or embrace it and live as something greater."

The corruption purred inside her skull. *He's right. You can't stop me. But you can use me.*

"I'd rather die."

"Then your sister dies too. And the journalist. And everyone you've ever cared about." Vance's voice hardened. "You made a choice when you shattered the stone. Now live with the consequences."

Rissa lunged.

She didn't plan it. The corruption moved for her, shoving her forward faster than thought, her claws aimed at Vance's throat. But he was ready. He caught her wrist, twisted, and slammed her into the wall.

The impact cracked stone. Pain exploded through her shoulder, and the corruption drank it greedily, growing stronger.

*More. Give me more.*

She struck out wildly, catching Vance across the cheek. His head snapped back, but he didn't fall. Instead, he laughed—a hollow, broken sound.

"Good. The stone chose well."

He grabbed her by the throat and lifted. Her feet left the ground. The corruption screamed for release, for her to surrender and let it take control, and she felt herself slipping—

*Dorian.*

The thought cut through the haze like a blade of light. His face, the way he'd looked at her before she sent him away. The fear in his eyes, but also the trust.

*She trusted him. He trusted her.*

She couldn't betray that.

Rissa stopped fighting the corruption and started *using* it. She didn't surrender—she *directed*. The rage became focus. The power became a blade. She drove her claws into Vance's arm, and when he dropped her, she came up swinging.

Her strike caught him across the throat.

Not deep enough to kill. Deep enough to wound. Blood poured down his chest as he staggered back, eyes wide with shock.

"Run," she snarled. "Tell your pack I'm coming for them."

Vance clutched his throat, blood leaking between his fingers. "You've already lost," he rasped. "The stone has you. It's only a matter of time."

She turned and fled.

The tunnel branched ahead, splitting into three paths. Behind her, the pack's howls resumed—Vance had recovered. She had minutes, maybe less.

Dorian's scream echoed from the left tunnel.

*No.*

She sprinted toward the sound, but the corruption whispered in her ear. *Wrong way. You're going the wrong way.*

She ignored it. Kept running.

The scream came again, closer now, but fainter. And with it, the sound of struggle. Of claws on stone. Of someone fighting for their life.

The corruption laughed inside her skull. *You can't save them all. You can't save anyone. Not even yourself.*

Rissa ran faster.

But the tunnels twisted and turned, and the screams grew quieter, and somewhere in the dark, she realized she was lost.

And the corruption was growing.