~Aethelia~
The air tastes of smoke and iron.
They bring the mate-bond revelation three nights after the Unmated rite. It is the full moon, they say. The statue of Seraphine watches from the center of the courtyard.
Even the thing inside me fears this moment like I do. I do not know why.
Unmated women gather to one side, pale and silent. No one is missing. Those under judgment stand bound beneath the trees with the rest of us. I alone am tied to the nearest oak. Ropes bite my wrists, my chest, my waist, my legs, and my throat.
The sacred rope is rough. I taste blood and salt where the cords bite. My wolf stirs. I do not just fear them. I fear losing Kael, the only tether I have to safety. I do not want the Moon's favor. I only want to live without the Moon taking those I love.
Five guardians stand between me and the crowd. Others guard the remaining unmated women bound beneath the trees.
My parents stand among the watchers. They look away. Orla stands near the elders. I see pity on her face. Some warriors point and spit. A few friends shout insults. Their words strike like stones.
Kael avoids my gaze at first, then snaps it toward me. Duty claws at him. Desire claws louder. I feel it through the ropes.
Whenever the rope bites, he clutches his chest. His confession in the cell echoes in my mind: I feel it in my chest when they hurt you.
That memory stirs something inside me I cannot explain.
Three elders step into the center: the High Moon-seer Kelvaris and the Moon-seers Thalia and Valtheron.
Kelvaris draws an ash circle. Candles stand at eight points. Bones from the last fires lie like teeth along the rim of the circle. He moves with slow care I envy.
Kael steps inside the circle. He glances at me once, then turns away. Bare-armed, eyes closed, as if he could pull the Moon into his chest. The elders form a triangle around him, heads bowed, palms open.
Kelvaris raises his voice.
"Silence," he says. "More concentration. Let us give our souls and spirits to the Moon Goddess."
We repeat the ritual line seven times:
"The Moon gives power. The firmament restrains it."
Kelvaris's words settle over the courtyard.
"Tonight we call what the Moon has given, if the time is right."
He begins the chant. Thalia and Valtheron join him. The sound moves through the air like a slow tide. It vibrates through my ribs. The scent of burning leaves fills my throat.
When the chanting fades, Kelvaris reaches into a sacred calabash and draws out a blade. Small. Clean.
"Our Alpha is bound by prophecy," he says. "He must find his destined Luna. When the Moon reveals her, she will be called the Messenger—a rare figure believed to carry the Moon's will into the mortal world itself."
Kael extends his left arm without hesitation.
I feel his presence through the circle. It pulls at me like gravity. My wolf trembles with recognition. A deep yearning rises that I cannot name.
Kelvaris slices Kael's upper arm.
Blood beads and drips into the ash. I flinch at the smell, but my wolf stiffens. Something inside me hums. The rope tightens against my chest. My body knows something my mind does not.
Now we must wait.
Seven minutes.
If no sign appears, the ritual fails and we wait another year. If the Moon reveals a mark, the Messenger is named.
The minutes stretch like rope.
At first nothing happens. Kelvaris watches the blood sink into the dirt. Thalia counts softly under her breath. People shift their feet. Someone coughs.
Two minutes pass.
Kael's face tightens.
Five minutes.
The wind seems to hold its breath. The crowd studies the unmated women. Some tilt their heads. Saria stares up at the Moon as if she can force it to choose her.
Silence presses against my ears.
I try to breathe through the ropes. My wrists burn. My chest strains with every breath. The small circle mark on my skin itches under salt and blood.
Fear rises. My heart hammers.
Across the circle Kael's jaw locks. I see his breath catch.
The sixth minute crawls past.
Kael leans forward slightly, as if bracing for something unseen. My lungs feel too small.
Then, without warning, I scream.
The sound rips out of me. It is not mine at first. It is another voice and mine torn together. Kora answers with a long keening. Some in the crowd cover their ears.
Heat tears through my left upper arm. The smell of burned skin hits me. Pain lashes and blooms. Skin splits there, red and wet. The world tilts.
Someone shouts.
I see the mark cut into me. A cross of thin slashes.
Kael clutches his chest and doubles over. He vomits, blood spilling at his feet. My gaze finds him. His eyes, half-hidden by moonlight, are raw. The sight makes my chest ache, a strange pull curling tight.
Then he screams.
His voice is greater than mine. It makes everyone cover their ears. Even Kora hides in one corner inside me.
Fear shakes my bones.
"Cut the ropes!" Kael's voice snaps through the courtyard, raw and sharp.
The crowd freezes. His fists clench. He does not move forward, but his eyes burn toward me. For a moment he is not Alpha, not bound by law—only mine to protect.
Kelvaris steps forward to block him.
"Alpha, are you sure?" he asks.
Kael freezes, breathing hard, the weight of his own words on him.
Kelvaris stumbles.
"What abomination is this?" he cries. "This cannot be—Aethelia?"
Thalia moves closer. She lays Kael's arm beside mine.
The slashes match perfectly, as if a single blade passed through both of us at the same moment.
My breath goes thin.
A murmur spreads through the courtyard.
Thalia's voice rises over the crowd.
"She is the one," she says. "This is the Messenger we have waited for. Aethelia."
The word drops like a stone.
Disbelief ripples. A groan. Then derision.
"Impossible," Saria cries. "Abomination."
People recoil away from me. Fingers point like I am a snake.
Kael steps closer despite the blood. His hand hovers near mine, but he does not touch. Still, I feel a thread bridge the space between us.
He looks at my upper arm, then at me. For a flash he smiles—quick, almost ashamed—then hides it. He shakes his head and stares at the Moon, then back at me.
"Is she… is she truly my mate?" Kael asks, voice small and raw.
Dravion steps forward, voice sharp.
"This cannot stand. The Moon would not choose a cursed woman. She chooses purity, not a monster marked with death. Kelvaris, you have turned this circle to darkness."
Kelvaris slams his hand into the ash.
"Do not speak to me like that. The ritual shows what it shows."
I see the accusation forming in Dravion's face as he stares at Kael.
He moves like a knife.
"What proof is this? One cut, one sign. We must repeat the rite. The Moon may have been mocked."
A voice in the crowd echoes him.
"Repeat the ritual!"
Another joins.
Then dozens.
"Repeat the ritual! Repeat the ritual!"
The chant swells until it fills the courtyard completely.
I stay silent. My throat burns. Blood runs down my arm.
If the Moon chooses only the pure… why me?
Was this done to save me? By whom? Orla? Kael? Kelvaris?
No. Kelvaris hates me. Dravion hates me more.
Yet the mark burns on my skin.
Kael stands motionless, caught between law and something deeper that frightens him.
Dravion lifts his voice above the noise.
"Repeat the ritual. If the Goddess speaks truth, she will mark her Messenger twice."
Kelvaris answers softly.
"You know the law. A second ritual carries consequences. The Moon rarely forgives."
The crowd does not care.
Their chant grows louder.
"Repeat the ritual! Repeat the ritual!"
Fear and anger ripple through the courtyard. The word abomination runs like smoke.
I stretch my trembling hand toward Kael. The mark throbs. My wolf shivers inside me.
The thread between us hums like a living thing.
Everyone waits for the word that will come from his mouth.