“Then come to Blackfang in seven nights,” Nicero said. “Once the bond is cut, there is no returning to your pack. No forgiveness. No mercy.”
My hands trembled—but I did not hesitate.
“I have nothing left to lose.”
And for the first time since the Moon turned its back on me, I meant it.
I learned two truths that night.
The first was that severing a mate-mark did not kill you.
The second was that sometimes, it left you wishing it had.
The ritual chamber beneath the High Spire was not meant for mercy. It had been carved into the mountain long before the Silvermoon Pack had a name, when wolves believed pain was the only honest language between blood and Moon.
I stood barefoot on the stone slab, my wrists bound loosely with lunar cord—not to restrain me, but to prevent my wolf from tearing free when the blade touched the mark.
Kael stood across from me, his expression unreadable, his posture rigid with authority. Lyra lingered behind him, draped in pale silk, her scent no longer that of my sister but something sharp and metallic that made my wolf recoil.
“You still have time to reconsider,” Kael said.
I almost laughed.
“Reconsider what?” My voice came out raw. “Losing my child? Losing my father? Or losing you?”
His jaw tightened. “This is necessary. The pack cannot function with a Luna who rejects the Moon.”
“I didn’t reject it,” I whispered. “You just refused to hear me.”
He didn’t answer.
The High Priest stepped forward, his ancient eyes reflecting the rune fire. “Once the blade descends, the bond will unravel,” he intoned. “Not cleanly. Not quickly. You will feel the mark fight you. Your wolf will remember everything.”
Good, I thought bitterly. Let it remember.
The obsidian blade was lifted.
I closed my eyes.
The first cut was nothing like flesh. It was memory.
The moment Kael had knelt before me under the spring Moon, his voice trembling as he promised to protect me. The way my wolf had surged forward, not in submission, but in recognition.
The blade tore through that memory.
Pain exploded down my spine, my scream echoing across the chamber as silver light burst from my shoulder where his mark had once glowed.
My knees buckled. The cords went taut.
I felt him then—felt Kael’s presence rip away like a limb torn from my soul. The bond shrieked as it unraveled, threads snapping violently, leaving behind raw, bleeding emptiness.
I smelled blood.
Not mine.
His.