The wind whispered through the mountains as Kael carried Alera through the fortress gates. Her strength had returned, but he refused to let her walk. She didn't protest.
Not this time.
He set her gently down on a bed layered with fur and silk. The room was vast, but warm stone walls glowing with amber light from enchanted sconces. She sat up slowly, watching him.
"You're hurt," she said, eyes dropping to his shoulder.
"It'll heal," he replied.
"You bled for me."
He turned, meeting her gaze. "I would do it again."
Alera looked away, her heart pounding. The battle was over, but something else something unspoken lingered in the space between them. A bond that tightened with each glance, each breath.
Kael sat beside her, careful, reverent.
"There's something you need to know," he said. "About what happened back there. About you."
She met his eyes again. "Tell me."
He took a breath. "You weren't just born Moonborn, Alera. You were made."
Her brows furrowed. "Made?"
"Before you were born, the Council foresaw a storm an era where the balance between man, wolf, and Lycan would shatter. So they sought to control the prophecy."
He stood, walking to a carved shelf. From it, he retrieved an ancient scroll bound in silver thread.
"This was stolen from their archives. It speaks of a union between bloodlines one that would awaken a force powerful enough to challenge even the Elders."
He handed it to her.
As she read, her hands trembled.
Moonborn: a child born of a rejected bond and an untethered alpha; one whose blood sings with the Moon Goddess's breath and whose destiny is tied to war or peace.
Alera looked up. "My mother—she died after I was born."
Kael nodded. "She died because the Council hunted her. They feared what she carried. Your father… he wasn't just a rogue. He was one of us. A Lycan. A brother I lost to exile."
Shock rippled through her.
"I have Lycan blood?" she whispered.
"And Moonborn magic. You are the storm they feared. And the one I've waited centuries to find."
Alera stared at him. "You've lived that long?"
He smiled sadly. "I stopped counting after the first hundred years."
"And you've been alone all that time?"
"I've ruled," he said. "But yes. Alone."
Their eyes locked. The silence between them stretched taut.
Alera stood. "Why me?"
Kael stepped closer, voice low. "Because fate is cruel. And sometimes, she chooses the broken to break the chains."
She didn't know who moved first but one moment, they were standing apart, and the next, her hands were in his hair and his lips were on hers.
The kiss was fire and hunger, a collision of destiny and desire. He pulled her closer, his hands gripping her waist like he'd drown without her.
When they parted, breathless, Alera leaned into his chest. "I don't want to be feared. I want to belong."
"You already do," he whispered against her hair. "You are my mate."
Her breath hitched. "But the bond—"
"Is there. You just haven't claimed it. Not fully."
Alera stepped back, eyes searching his. "What happens if I do?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "You tie yourself to me for eternity. You'll carry my mark, and I'll carry yours. There's no turning back."
"Will it make me stronger?"
"Yes. But it will also make you hunted. The Council won't rest. The world won't understand."
She swallowed. "Then let them hunt. I'm tired of running."
Kael looked stunned for only a second. Then he nodded.
"I'll call the Blood Moon," he said. "Tonight."
The ceremony was ancient older than the Lycan Kingdom itself.
As night fell, the courtyard filled with wolves in both form and flesh, all gathered in reverent silence. The moon hung heavy and blood-red above them, casting an eerie glow over the stones.
Alera stood in the center, dressed in a silver gown laced with runes. Her eyes scanned the crowd but locked only on Kael.
He stepped forward, shirtless, a blade in one hand, a sacred bowl in the other.
"Do you, Alera Moonborn, offer your blood, your bond, and your soul to the one chosen by the Moon?"
"I do," she whispered.
He handed her the blade. "Then take what is mine."
She hesitated only a heartbeat before slicing a clean line across his palm. Blood pooled in the bowl.
Kael took the blade, mirroring the motion. Her blood joined his.
The scent of it made the wolves howl—powerful, divine, undeniable.
Kael dipped two fingers into the bowl and pressed the blood to her lips, then her heart.
"I claim you, Alera. As my equal. My mate. My queen."
She did the same. "And I claim you, Kael. Not for your power. But for the strength I see when you bleed for others. For me."
The sky rumbled.
Lightning split the heavens.
The Moon Goddess had heard.
A mark flared on her collarbone silver and glowing. A matching mark burned across Kael's chest.
Their bond had been sealed.
And the world changed with it.
Later, as the fires dimmed and the wolves celebrated, Alera lay beside Kael in the quiet of his chambers.
She stared at the mark on his chest. "What now?"
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Now, the world will come for us. But they'll find a queen, not a pawn. And I'll kill any who try to take you."
She smiled faintly. "Even the Council?"
He growled. "Especially them."
She leaned into him, heart steady for the first time in years.
Outside, the night grew colder.
But inside, the fire had just begun.