He turned and began walking toward the exit. “You start training tonight.”
---
That evening, I stood at the edge of the Moon-root chamber once more, watching as Blackfang elders etched a new circle around the ancient root. Unlike Silvermoon’s rituals, this one was brutal in its simplicity — no flowing patterns, only angular symbols carved deep enough to bleed.
Nicero approached me as the elders stepped back.
“The contract bond is not a mating rite,” he said. “It’s a declaration of allegiance. Once bound, your fate will intertwine with Blackfang territory. Your power will not be drawn from Kael’s Moon. It will come from this land.”
“And the cost?” I asked quietly.
He met my gaze. “If you betray Blackfang, the Moon-root itself will hunt you.”
My wolf stirred uneasily.
“And if Kael comes?” I pressed.
Nicero’s mouth curved faintly. “Then he will discover what it means to challenge a pack that doesn’t worship mercy.”
The circle flared, dark silver light rising like mist from the carved runes.
I stepped forward.
Behind me, the distant howls of Blackfang rolled through the mountain — not a welcome.
A warning.
And this time, I didn’t run from it.
The Moon-root bled when I touched it again.