He staggered backward with a sharp grunt, clutching his chest as Lyra rushed to his side.
“Elira—stop this!” he barked hoarsely.
But I couldn’t stop.
The mark resisted, digging claws into every piece of me it had ever claimed. It showed me fragments of a life I had given freely—every compromise, every silence, every lie I’d swallowed to keep our pack whole.
And then—
It was gone.
The rune circle collapsed inward with a thunderous crack, and I fell forward onto the stone, gasping like I had been dragged from the depths of the Veil.
No bond.
No warmth.
Only hollow silence.
The High Priest raised his staff. “It is done. The Luna is unbound.”
Unbound.
Not free.
Kael did not come to me.
He stood rigidly, his chest heaving, as Lyra whispered urgently into his ear. I caught fragments of her scent—satisfaction laced with triumph.
I dragged myself upright, every nerve screaming.
“I’ll leave by dawn,” I said. “I won’t interfere with your pack again.”
That was when he finally looked at me.
There was no love in his eyes.
Only calculation.
“You will not leave,” Kael said. “Not yet.”
My heart sank. “What do you mean?”
“Your father’s spirit anchor is bound to Silvermoon territory,” he replied evenly. “The ancestral flame is weakening. If you cross pack borders now, his soul will fade before dawn.”
The words were calm.
They destroyed me.
“You promised me,” I whispered. “You said as long as I was your mate, you would keep him safe.”
“And you are no longer my mate.”
Lyra stepped forward, resting a hand lightly against his arm. “The Council will be deciding the next Luna soon. It wouldn’t do for you to disappear in the middle of such an important transition.”
I stared at her. “This was always your plan, wasn’t it?”
She tilted her head. “If you mean surviving? Yes.”
They left me there.
Not dragged to a cell. Not banished. Simply abandoned in the ritual chamber like discarded ash.
I made it back to my quarters alone.
The bond’s absence felt like frostbite—no pain at first, just numbness so deep I could barely register movement. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the agony to arrive.
It came in waves.
When I finally slept, I dreamed of a child I had never held, crying in a place I could never reach.
---
At dawn, I went to the ancestral shrine.
The flame that housed my father’s spirit was dimmer than I had ever seen it, flickering weakly against the encroaching shadows.