The silence after the kiss was deeper than the void between stars.
Not empty. Not still. But charged—like the air after lightning, thick with the scent of ozone and old magic, with the echo of something sacred. Kaelen’s mouth was still on mine, his fangs grazing my bottom lip, blood mingling between us, the bond erupting in a wave of fire and light. The mating mark on my neck flared—bright, undeniable, real—and the Council gasped as one.
Even Cassian stepped back.
Because he knew.
It wasn’t manipulation.
It wasn’t control.
It was fate.
And it was unbreakable.
We broke apart slowly, breathless, swollen-lipped, blood on our mouths. The bond didn’t fade. Didn’t weaken. It sang—a second heartbeat, steady and deep, resonating with the ley lines beneath the city. Kaelen’s molten gold eyes locked onto mine, not with possession, not with dominance, but with something deeper. Something rarer.
Recognition.
And I—
I didn’t look away.
Because I wasn’t just Eclipse.
I was seen.
—
The chamber stilled.
No gasps. No whispers. No movement. Just silence—thick, weighted, like the world had paused to breathe. The silver bowl still pulsed with indigo light, the column of magic reaching the enchanted ceiling, the full moon above flickering in time with the bond. The sigils on the floor had rewritten themselves—black stone now indigo, blood-red runes transformed into the ancient script of the Eclipse Coven.
And then—
Cassian moved.
Not fast. Not desperate.
But with purpose.
He stepped forward, his velvet coat rustling, his silver hair gleaming in the torchlight. His smile was gone. His eyes—those ancient, dead eyes—were sharp, calculating, but for the first time, I saw it.
Fear.
“A trick,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “A glamoured illusion. You think a kiss and a glowing mark prove anything? The bond can be faked. Magic can be stolen. And you—” He turned to me, his gaze like a blade. “—are nothing but a half-blood fraud who’s used forbidden magic to bind the High Sovereign to your will.”
My pulse spiked.
But I didn’t flinch.
Just stepped forward, my boots clicking once on the stone. “You want proof?” I asked, voice calm, steady. “Then let me show you the truth.”
“There is no truth,” he snapped. “Only lies.”
“Then let the magic decide,” I said, pressing a hand to the wound on my shoulder—still tender, still healing. “Let it speak for itself.”
The Council stirred.
Even the witch representative leaned forward, her cracked obsidian eyes narrowing. “The ritual is complete,” she said. “The bond has been proven. The blood oath has been sworn. There is no need for further spectacle.”
“There is every need,” I said, turning to her. “Because Cassian didn’t just frame me. He didn’t just poison me. He murdered my mother. And he made Kaelen believe it was his fault.”
A ripple of shock.
“And you expect us to believe that?” Cassian asked, voice icy. “A daughter’s grief? A witch’s vengeance? You have no evidence.”
“I have the memory,” I said. “And I have the power to show it.”
“Then do it,” Kaelen said, stepping beside me. His voice was low, rough, but there was no hesitation. No doubt. Just trust. “Show them. Show me.”
I turned to him.
Those molten gold eyes—once cold, once distant—were now wide, searching, needing. He didn’t know what he was asking. Didn’t know what I was about to make him relive. The night his world ended. The night he lost the woman who was like a sister to him. The night he swore he’d never love again.
And I—
I didn’t want to hurt him.
But I had to.
Because the truth wasn’t just mine.
It was ours.
—
I stepped into the center of the ritual circle, bare feet pressing against the cold stone. The Black Sigil pulsed beneath my ribs, a second heartbeat, steady and deep. The mating mark still glowed beneath my collar, not with possession, not with claim.
Promise.
I closed my eyes.
Reached deep—into the well of my magic, into the blood of my ancestors, into the bond that tied me to Kaelen. I felt it—still there. Faint. Frayed. But real.
And then—
I *pulled*.
Not with force.
Not with rage.
But with *need*.
For truth.
For justice.
For her.
The air stilled.
Not a breath. Not a whisper. Not a heartbeat.
And then—
Time snapped back.
The chamber froze—torchlight mid-flicker, dust suspended in air, the echo of my scream hanging in the silence. And in that stillness—
I saw it.
The truth.
Not just Cassian’s lies.
Not just his crimes.
But everything.
My mother—standing in the ritual chamber, the blade in her back, Cassian’s hand on the hilt, Kaelen on his knees, screaming her name. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t afraid. She was protecting him. Protecting the bond. Protecting me.
And as she died—
She whispered one word.
Indigo.
The memory played—not for me, but for the Council. For the world. For him. Cassian’s snarl caught mid-sneer. The torchlight hung in the air. And I—
I stepped forward.
Pressed my palm to the center of the sigil on the floor.
And let the Black Sigil sing.
Not to kill.
Not to destroy.
But to reveal.
The runes flared—indigo, not black—shattering the wards, cracking the stone, rewriting the chamber. Cassian screamed—raw, guttural, his—and collapsed, clutching his head, the memory burning through his mind.
And then—
Time snapped back.
The chamber erupted—magic, fire, truth—and then—
It was over.
The light faded. The chamber stilled. The Council stared—shocked, silent, seeing.
And I—
I didn’t flinch.
Just held my ground.
“That,” I said, voice low, steady, “is the truth.”
—
Cassian rose slowly, blood on his lip, his coat torn, but his smile—oh, his smile was alive. Sharp. Hungry. Victorious.
“A trick,” he said, voice smooth. “A glamoured illusion. You think you can fool us with parlor tricks? You’re not Eclipse. You’re a fraud. A half-blood who stole the Sigil and twisted the bond to serve her own ends.”
“Then why does the mark glow?” asked the werewolf Alpha, his voice deep, rough. He stood from his throne, his fur-lined cloak shifting as he stepped forward. “Why does the Black Sigil answer to her? Why does the bond *sing* when they’re near?”
“Because she’s manipulated it,” Cassian snapped. “Because she’s used forbidden magic to bind him—”
“No,” Kaelen said, stepping forward. His voice cut through the noise like a blade. “She didn’t bind me. I chose her. Not because of magic. Not because of fate. But because she’s *true*.”
The chamber fell silent.
Every eye turned to him.
Even Cassian’s breath hitched.
“You would risk your throne for her?” Cassian asked, voice low, dangerous.
“I would burn it to ash,” Kaelen said, stepping down from the dais, his boots striking the stone once, twice, three times. “I would tear this city apart. I would die a thousand deaths. Because she’s not just my bondmate. She’s my equal. My justice. My *truth*.”
And then—
He reached for me.
Not with magic.
Not with force.
But with need.
His hand found mine, fingers lacing, the bond singing between us, a second heartbeat, ours. The mating mark flared, not with possession, not with claim.
Love.
And I—
I didn’t pull away.
Just let him hold me.
Because I wasn’t just Eclipse.
I was his.
—
Cassian didn’t flinch. Just smiled. “Then let the Council decide. Let them see the evidence. Let them weigh the truth.”
“There is no evidence,” I said. “Only lies. Only poison. Only your fear of a woman who won’t be silenced.”
“Then let us hear from a witness,” he said, turning. “Lira Nox—step forward.”
My breath caught.
She glided into the chamber like smoke, wearing a gown the color of spilled blood, her hair loose, her eyes sharp with amusement. She didn’t go to her seat. Didn’t bow. Didn’t acknowledge the Council.
She walked straight to the center of the chamber.
And then—
She turned.
And smiled.
“Representatives,” she began, voice like velvet and poison, “I come before you not as a rival. Not as a schemer. But as a witness.”
The chamber stilled.
“I come to speak of truth. Of loyalty. Of a bond that was broken not by magic—but by betrayal.”
Kaelen’s fangs bared.
I tensed beside him, my hand curling into a fist.
“Two centuries ago,” Lira continued, “I stood at the side of the High Sovereign. I fought beside him. I bled for him. And in the darkest night of his grief, when the woman he loved was taken from him—” She paused, her gaze flicking to Kaelen, then to me. “—I was the one who held him. The one who whispered his name in the dark. The one who let him feed from me, not in passion—but in pain.”
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
“And he marked me,” she said, turning her head, offering the Council a better view of the bite on her throat. “Not as a lover. Not as a conquest. But as a promise. A vow that he would never be alone again.”
“Liar,” I hissed.
“Am I?” Lira smiled. “Then why hasn’t he marked you? Why hasn’t he claimed you? Why hasn’t he—”
“Because I choose her,” Kaelen said, stepping forward, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
The chamber fell silent.
Every eye turned to him.
Even Cassian’s breath hitched.
“You,” Kaelen continued, stepping forward, “were nothing to me. A moment of weakness. A distraction. A lie you’ve worn like a crown for two centuries.” He turned to the Council. “She was never marked. The bite was self-defense. The ring was forged. And the so-called vow—” His voice dropped, rough, dangerous—“was a lie. And I will not let her stand here and defile the truth.”
Lira didn’t flinch. Just smiled. “Then prove it.”
“I don’t have to,” Kaelen said. “Because the bond is real. The mark is real. And she—” He turned, his gaze locking onto mine, “—is mine.”
The chamber erupted.
Voices. Shouts. Demands for proof.
And then—
Cassian stood.
“There is a way,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “A test. A public test. The High Sovereign must prove his loyalty. Not to the Council. Not to the Dominion. But to the woman he claims as his bondmate.”
My pulse spiked.
“What kind of test?” Kaelen asked, voice cold.
“A simple one,” Cassian said, smiling. “A blood oath. Public. In front of us all. And when the ritual is complete—” He paused. “—we will see if the bond holds. If it is truly fated. Or if it is merely… convenience.”
I stared at him.
It wasn’t just a test.
It was a trap.
A public spectacle. A humiliation. A chance to expose Kaelen, to discredit him, to make him fail in front of the entire Council.
And if he refused—
He was weak. A fraud. A coward.
But if he succeeded—
He was a threat. A target. A man who had to be destroyed.
Indigo didn’t speak. Just held his gaze, those dark eyes searching, testing.
And then—
She nodded.
Once.
A silent promise. A silent strength.
Kaelen turned back to Cassian.
“Very well,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “I accept.”
—
The ritual chamber was prepared in minutes.
A vast, circular space beneath the Council Hall, the ceiling enchanted to mimic the night sky. The full moon hung low, its light silver and cold, casting long shadows across the marble floor. A silver bowl sat in the center, filled with dark liquid—blood, old and potent, drawn from the High Sovereign’s veins.
Kaelen stood at the edge of the dais, stripped to the waist, his chest bare, his fangs just visible when he turned his head. Indigo stood across from him, her back straight, her hands at her sides. The mating mark still glowed faintly beneath her collar, a pulse of indigo light that matched the rhythm of her breath.
The Council watched in silence.
And I—
I stood in the shadows, heart pounding, hands clenched at my sides.
Because I could feel it.
The magic.
It wasn’t just in them.
It was in me.
And it was awake.
—
“Begin,” Cassian said.
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. He raised his hand, a silver dagger appearing in his grip. With a single, clean motion, he sliced across his palm. Blood—dark, rich, ancient—dripped into the bowl, sizzling as it met the surface.
Then he offered his hand to Indigo.
She didn’t flinch. Just took it, her fingers lacing with his, the bond singing between them, a second heartbeat, theirs.
And then—
It happened.
Not with sound. Not with light.
But with pressure.
The wards—etched into the stone, woven into the air—surged. A pulse of indigo light rippled outward, silent, unseen by anyone but me. The air thickened. The scent of old magic, of iron and storm, curled around me. And then—
I felt it.
Not just in my chest.
In my hands.
I looked down.
And saw it.
A faint, glowing sigil—crescent moon, just like the one on the robe—etched into my skin, pulsing with power.
And I—
I wasn’t afraid.
I wasn’t confused.
I was awake.
And I knew—
This wasn’t over.
It had only just begun.
—
The ritual flared.
Not with fire. Not with blood.
But with truth.
The silver bowl erupted—indigo light surging upward, forming a column that reached the enchanted ceiling, the full moon above pulsing in time with the bond. The sigils on the floor flared—black stone turning indigo, blood-red runes rewriting themselves into the Eclipse script.
And then—
They kissed.
Not soft. Not gentle.
But hard—their mouths crashing together, fangs grazing, blood mingling, the bond erupting in a wave of fire and light. The mating mark on Indigo’s neck flared—bright, undeniable, real—and the Council gasped as one.
Even Cassian stepped back.
Because he knew.
It wasn’t manipulation.
It wasn’t control.
It was fate.
And it was unbreakable.
—
When they broke apart, the chamber was silent.
Not stunned. Not shocked.
But changed.
The bond hummed between them, not with need, not with desire.
With promise.
And I—
I didn’t speak.
Just pressed a hand to my chest, where the new sigil pulsed, warm and alive.
Because I knew.
It wasn’t just Indigo who had awakened.
It wasn’t just the Eclipse.
It was me.
And I would not be silenced.
Not again.
Not ever.