The moon hung low over StoneRidge like a watchful god, pale and unforgiving. Morning hadn’t yet fully broken, but the halls of the estate thrummed with quiet movement—cloaked figures drifting like ghosts, servants lighting torches with downcast eyes, guards posted at every threshold.
Today was the day the bond would be judged.
Aria dressed without ceremony. No Luna cloak. No silver embroidery. Just a long-sleeved black dress and a braid wound tight against her skull like armor. Her palms were clammy despite the chill in the air. She hadn’t slept. She wasn’t sure if she ever would again.
She stood at the edge of the mirror for a long time, staring into eyes that used to shine. Now they were clouded. Dimmed. Her storm-gray irises looked dulled by grief, her cheekbones hollowed by a war she hadn’t chosen to fight. And yet, somehow, she looked more like a Luna than ever before—because there was nothing left to prove.
Zara waited for her just outside the east wing.
“You don’t have to go alone,” she said.
“I do.”
“Kael doesn’t deserve—”
“This isn’t about Kael.”
Aria met her cousin’s eyes with a calm that surprised even herself. “This is about me walking into that chamber with my head held high, whether I leave with a mate or without one.”
Zara looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she placed a hand over Aria’s heart, fingers trembling. “He may have marked you, but this?” she whispered. “This part was always yours.”
Then she stepped back, letting Aria go.
The walk to the Council chamber was short, but every step felt long, deliberate, final. Her boots struck the stone floor like a drumbeat, echoing in time with her pulse. The guards opened the doors without a word.
Inside, the Elders sat in silence. The crescent seal loomed above them in carved relief, casting a shadow that fell directly across the center of the floor. Aria stepped into it and lifted her chin.
Kael was already there.
He stood in full Alpha regalia—black leather, silver clasps at his shoulders, his crest embroidered in midnight thread across his chest. His expression was unreadable. Cold. Focused.
He didn’t look at her.
Elder Brynn rose from her seat.
“This council is reconvened to deliver judgment regarding the status of the fated bond between Alpha Kael Draven and Luna Aria Vale, as reviewed under Rule 47-B.”
She paused, letting the silence settle.
“Both parties were given the opportunity to speak. The council has considered the testimonies, the bond fluctuations observed, and the magical strain recorded by Seer Ellian.”
Aria’s throat clenched.
“By majority decision,” Brynn said, her voice sharper now, “the bond is to be formally severed by sanctioned ritual under the guidance of Council Warden Sorren. The severing shall occur immediately.”
Immediately.
The word echoed like a strike of lightning inside her skull.
Aria blinked. “What?”
Brynn didn’t pause. “Both parties will step forward to complete the ritual. Alpha Draven has already consented. Luna Vale, your compliance is now required.”
“No.” Her voice cracked. “You never said it would be today.”
“We did not need to.”
“You’ve already decided everything—without me—”
Brynn’s gaze sharpened. “Do you refuse?”
Aria’s chest heaved. The room tilted slightly, breath rushing too fast into her lungs.
Kael finally looked at her.
And for a moment—just one—his expression shifted.
Not regret. Not sorrow.
Restraint.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he said quietly.
That did it.
She turned on him, fury flaring hot. “You’re making this look easy.”
He flinched.
Warden Sorren approached from the shadows, an obsidian dagger in one hand and a silver bowl in the other. His presence was cold, clinical. Merciless.
“The fated bond will be released through symbolic bloodletting,” he intoned. “One cut from each party, rendered in consent. The magic will do the rest.”
Aria stared at the blade.
Her wolf whimpered low in her chest, pacing, resisting. The bond still lived. Fragile, but present. This would end it.
This would kill it.
And Kael had already agreed.
She stepped forward.
Not because she agreed.
But because she refused to be the one who broke.
The Warden held the blade between them.
“Left hand,” he instructed.
Kael extended his first. Aria followed. Their hands hovered over the silver bowl, inches apart.
The Warden slashed Kael’s palm first—quick, clean. Kael didn’t flinch. Blood dripped into the bowl.
Then he turned to Aria.
She didn’t move.
“Do you consent?” he asked.
Her lips parted.
Say no.
Say something.
But Kael’s blood was already in the bowl. The ritual had begun. Her refusal wouldn’t save her. It would only make her look desperate.
“I consent,” she whispered.
The blade cut deep.
The pain was sharp, but not what hurt most.
Their blood mingled in the bowl.
Magic shimmered in the air—thin strands of gold unraveling like thread. She felt the bond tear in a final, searing rip, like flesh pulled from bone.
She gasped, staggering.
Kael reached for her instinctively—but stopped halfway.
She straightened on her own.
Warden Sorren nodded. “The bond is broken.”
Elder Brynn raised her hand. “This hearing is concluded.”
Kael turned and left without a word.
He didn’t look back.
Aria stood alone in the circle, blood still dripping from her hand into the silver bowl, her chest aching with silence.
She waited until the room emptied.
Then she fell to her knees—
—and screamed.
