The forest beyond the Lycan King's fortress stretched endlessly ancient, brooding, and thick with secrets. Alera walked beside Kael, his towering presence at her side both calming and overwhelming. Her wolf was silent now, as if watching, waiting.
They didn't speak for a while, just walked under the canopy of silver leaves glowing in the moonlight.
"You brought me to the heart of your territory," Alera finally said. "Aren't you worried I'll run?"
Kael gave a low chuckle. "If you ran, I would find you."
There was no threat in his voice just truth. And somehow, that made her pulse skip.
Alera looked around. "This isn't just about the rogues, is it? Why am I really here?"
Kael stopped walking and turned to her. "Because you are not who you think you are."
She blinked. "You keep saying that. But what does it mean?"
Kael hesitated. That alone set Alera's nerves alight. The Lycan King wasn't someone who second-guessed himself.
"There is a prophecy," he said at last. "One nearly forgotten. It speaks of a bloodline hidden in plain sight. A bloodline older than the Lycans."
Alera's stomach flipped. "Are you saying…?"
"You're descended from the Moonborn."
She stared at him. "That's a myth."
"So is the Lycan King, yet here I stand."
She couldn't argue with that.
"The Moonborn were the first to bear the wolf," Kael continued. "Not turned, not bitten born with the magic of the moon in their veins. Their power was pure, untainted. But it made them a threat to the Elders."
Alera folded her arms. "So they were wiped out."
"Almost," Kael said. "A single line was spared hidden away, scattered through time."
Her voice dropped. "Me."
"You are the last."
Silence fell between them. Alera's mind raced. It made no sense. She had always been different, yes especially when her wolf hadn't awakened when it should have but this? This was beyond anything she could have imagined.
Kael stepped closer. "The rogues know. That's why they're hunting you. If you die before your power awakens, the prophecy is broken. The old bloodline dies. And the throne of the supernatural realm falls into chaos."
"And if I live?"
His eyes darkened with something deeper than just hunger. "Then we win. And everything changes."
Before Alera could reply, the air shifted. A pulse, faint but distinct, vibrated through the ground.
Kael's face went cold. "We're not alone."
Alera turned. From the trees came a figure cloaked in shadows. Not a rogue. Something else. The scent of decay and iron filled the clearing.
The figure lifted its hood. A woman's face pale as bone, eyes black as ink. "So the rumors are true," she said, her voice like rustling leaves. "The last Moonborn walks."
Kael's body moved in front of Alera instantly, protective and ready to kill.
"Who are you?" he growled.
The woman tilted her head. "A messenger. And a reminder. The Council has not forgotten the law. Mixing Lycan blood with forbidden lines is treason."
Alera stepped beside Kael. "I never asked for this."
"But it's yours now," the woman replied. "And soon, others will come. Not to warn but to kill."
With that, she turned and vanished into the trees as if swallowed by the forest itself.
Kael exhaled slowly. "They're watching."
Alera swallowed hard. "What happens now?"
He looked down at her. "Now, we prepare. For war, for power and for your awakening."
They returned to the fortress. Torches flickered along the stone walls as they entered. Alera was led to a grand hall carved from black stone, the ceiling arching high above like the night sky. It was both beautiful and intimidating.
Kael turned to her. "You need to be sworn in."
Alera blinked. "Sworn in?"
"You carry royal blood now. You must take the Blood Oath of the Lycans. It binds you to our pack… and to me."
Her throat tightened. "And if I don't?"
His gaze sharpened. "Then you remain unclaimed. Unprotected. Hunted."
The room filled with silence as Alera considered his words. She had spent years rejected, alone, and doubting her place in the world. And now, the world itself wanted her dead. This wasn't just about her anymore—it was about legacy. Survival.
"I'll take the oath," she said.
Kael nodded once and beckoned to the side. A warrior stepped forward an older woman with silver-streaked hair and a scar across her cheek. She held a blade.
Alera's eyes flicked to it. "Blood?"
The woman nodded. "Oath by blood. It's ancient law."
Kael took the blade first, slicing his palm open with calm precision. Blood welled and dripped into a silver bowl held by the warrior.
He handed her the blade.
Alera hesitated only a moment, then did the same. Her blood mixed with his in the bowl, glowing faintly under the torchlight.
The warrior lifted the bowl between them. "Say the words," she intoned.
Alera repeated them slowly. "By blood and bond, I swear loyalty to the Lycans. To the king. To the pack. I offer my strength, my soul, and my fire."
Kael echoed the final line, his voice thunderous. "And I, Kael, King of Lycans, accept her bond. Her strength, her soul, and her fire are mine to protect… and to cherish."
A wave of energy burst from the bowl, wind sweeping through the chamber. The torches flared. Alera felt the magic rush through her ancient, wild, and absolute.
When the light faded, she stumbled back.
Kael caught her.
"It's done," he said.
She looked up at him, breathless. "What happens now?"
His eyes burned. "Now… you rise."