Kael scoffed. "Lyra, abandon this performance."
"You believe this will burden me with guilt? It won't succeed."
"If you truly were struck down, then your bloodline must have committed terrible wrongs in past lives. Fate finally collected its due. The Ashvale line deserves to end."
End.
My sire was dead. I had no littermates.
If I perished as well, the Ashvale bloodline would be extinguished forever.
"Your mate is failing! We've already summoned the Pack Tribunal enforcers!"
Kael didn't hesitate. "Lyra, if you die, I hope you die swiftly and your spirit finds a new vessel faster."
The crystal went dark.
The healer stood motionless, the communication stone trembling in her grasp.
They say when your soul-bond shatters, the agony fades.
They lie. It still burns.
"I'll authorize... the rites myself..."
And suddenly, clarity pierced through the pain.
No one in this territory was going to save me.
Except me.
Throughout my entire recovery in the healing den, Kael never appeared once.
He took Raven to the frozen northern territories to witness the spirit lights dancing across the sky. To the coastal pack lands to walk through moonlit tidal pools.
He was occupied making up for five years of experiences she had missed.
The day I was released from the healers' care, my Tribunal Advocate sent word:
"Lady Ashvale, the Bond Rejection petition has been submitted to the Council."
"Additionally, we've obtained the scent-truth evidence from your sire's death."
"The wolf who attacked you has been captured and confined. They've confessed—Raven Duskveil hired them through a blood-oath contract."
I turned and gazed one final time at the den I had inhabited for five years.
Then I pressed my claw-mark to the documents authorizing its sale.
"My gratitude for handling this matter. I seek no compromise settlement. I want them to face full Tribunal justice."
Kael Stormhowl—I will reclaim everything my sire ever granted you. One territory at a time.
