The silence after Vexis vanished was worse than the fight.
Not the quiet of peace. Not the hush of victory. But the stillness of a storm that hadn’t broken—just gathered, coiled, waiting to strike. The vault was a tomb of echoes, the air thick with the scent of ash and old magic. The forged scroll was gone, reduced to blackened fragments scattered across the stone, but its words still burned in my mind.
“The Blood Moon Bond was forged under false pretenses. The union is null. The claim is void. The witch Opal is free.”
Free.
That’s what I’d wanted. What I’d come for. To break the bond, kill the Alpha, reclaim my birthright. And now, standing in the heart of Nocturne’s deepest vault, the lie reduced to ash at my feet, I should’ve felt it—relief. Triumph. The sweet, sharp taste of revenge.
But all I felt was emptiness.
And something worse.
Doubt.
Kael stood beside me, his hand still gripping mine, his presence a wall against the cold. He hadn’t spoken since I’d burned the scroll. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning with something I couldn’t name—pride? Fear? Regret? The bond hummed between us, steady, insistent, a thread of fire in the dark. It hadn’t broken. It hadn’t even flickered. And that terrified me more than anything.
Because the bond wasn’t just magic.
It was *truth*.
And I didn’t know if I was ready to face it.
Silas stepped forward, his boots crunching over the ashes. “He’ll try again,” he said, his voice low. “Vexis. He won’t stop until the bond is severed. Until you’re broken.”
“Then let him try,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ve burned his lies once. I’ll burn them again.”
“And if he uses the truth next time?” Kael asked, turning to me. His voice was rough, careful. “What if he shows you proof? Real proof? Not a forged scroll. Not a blood oath. But the truth about what happened thirteen years ago?”
My breath caught.
Because I already knew.
From the scrying. From my mother’s whisper.
But I hadn’t wanted to believe it.
“You knew,” I said, stepping back, pulling my hand from his. “You knew she wasn’t dead. You knew Vexis framed you. You knew Maeve betrayed me. And you didn’t tell me.”
He didn’t flinch. Just stood there, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on mine. “I couldn’t.”
“You *could*,” I snapped. “You *should* have. I came here to kill you, Kael. I spent thirteen years hating you. Training to destroy you. And all of it—every drop of blood, every sleepless night, every ritual I’ve ever cast—was built on a lie.”
“And if I’d told you the truth?” he asked, stepping closer. “If I’d said, ‘Opal, your mother isn’t dead. Vexis took her. And I let you believe I killed her to protect the truce’—what would you have done?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I knew.
I would’ve charged into the Council screaming for Vexis. I would’ve exposed him. And he would’ve killed me before I took two steps.
“You would’ve died,” he said, his voice low. “And the truce would’ve shattered. Thousands would’ve died. The packs would’ve turned on each other. The vampires would’ve seized power. The fae would’ve retreated into the shadows. And Vexis? He would’ve ruled them all.”
“So you let me hate you?” I demanded. “You let me believe you were the monster? That you’d murdered my mother in cold blood?”
“I let you believe it because it kept you *alive*,” he said, stepping into me. “Because it gave you a mission. A purpose. A reason to survive. If you’d known the truth, you’d have broken. And I couldn’t let that happen.”
“And Maeve?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Did you know about her too?”
He hesitated.
And in that silence, I knew.
“Yes,” he said. “Silas uncovered it weeks ago. But we couldn’t tell you. Not until you were ready.”
“And am I?” I whispered. “Am I ready to know that the people who raised me, who taught me, who *loved* me—lied to me? Betrayed me?”
“They didn’t betray you,” he said, his voice rough. “They protected you. Just like I did. Just like I’m still doing.”
“By lying?” I demanded. “By letting me hate you? By letting me believe I came here to kill the man who murdered my mother?”
“By keeping you alive,” he said, stepping closer. “By giving you a mission. A purpose. If you’d known the truth, you’d have charged into the Council screaming for Vexis. And he would’ve killed you before you took two steps.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
I would’ve died.
And yet—
“You still should’ve told me,” I said, my voice trembling. “You should’ve trusted me.”
“I do trust you,” he said, his hand tightening around mine. “But I couldn’t risk you. Not then. Not now.”
“And what about now?” I asked. “Now that I know? Now that I’ve seen her? Are you still going to lie? Still going to keep me in the dark?”
He didn’t answer.
Just reached up and brushed his thumb along the bond mark on my neck.
Fire shot through me.
My breath hitched. My body arched toward him, betraying me completely. My magic surged, rising like a tide, drawn to his like it had its own will.
“Don’t,” I whispered, but it wasn’t a refusal. It was a plea.
“Then tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want *me*.”
I opened my mouth.
But no words came.
Because I couldn’t say it.
Because I didn’t know if it was true.
And in that moment—
A whisper.
Not from the vault.
Not from Silas.
From *inside* my mind.
“Opal.”
Soft. Familiar. Laced with sorrow.
“You have to stop him. Before he rewrites the truce. Before he erases the truth.”
My breath caught.
Kael froze.
Because he’d heard it too.
Mother.
She was alive.
And she was warning me.
“We have to go back,” I said, stepping past him. “Now.”
“To the Citadel?” Silas asked.
“To the Blood Pact Archives,” I said. “If Vexis tried to rewrite the bond here, he’ll try to alter the original records. He’ll erase the truth. He’ll make it so the bond was never real.”
“And if it’s already too late?” Kael asked.
“Then we burn it,” I said. “All of it. Every scroll, every record, every lie he’s ever written. I’d rather have no truth than a false one.”
He didn’t argue.
Just nodded.
And as we moved through the hidden tunnels, the bond humming between us, I knew one thing.
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about *truth*.
And I would burn the world to get it.
We reached the Blackthorn Citadel as the Blood Moon faded to silver, its crimson glow dissolving into the dawn. The guards at the gate hesitated when they saw us—filthy, bloodied, half-frozen—but Kael’s presence silenced any questions. We moved through the corridors like ghosts, the whispers of our return already spreading.
“They’re saying we slept together,” Silas murmured as we passed a group of Northern Pack envoys. Their eyes flickered to me—narrowed, judging.
“Let them talk,” I said, lifting my chin. “I don’t care what they believe.”
“You should,” Kael said, his voice low. “Rumors have power. Especially when they’re laced with truth.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
The truth was the most dangerous weapon of all.
We reached the Blood Pact Archives—this time, the Citadel’s own. The doors were sealed with silver sigils, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and dried blood. Silas stepped forward, the key in his hand.
“This will open it,” he said. “But only once. And it’ll trigger an alarm if we’re not fast.”
“Then we’ll be fast,” I said.
Kael placed a hand on my shoulder—just for a second—warm, heavy, grounding. “Stay behind me. No heroics.”
“I’m not your soldier,” I said, but there was no bite in it.
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re my equal. My match. And if you die, I break.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
Before I could respond, Silas turned the key.
The doors groaned open, revealing a long, narrow corridor lined with torches that flared to life as we stepped inside. The air was cold, thick with the scent of dust and dried blood. The walls were lined with shelves—endless rows of scrolls, tomes, vials of preserved magic. This wasn’t just a library. It was a tomb of secrets.
We moved fast, boots silent on the stone. No voices. No hesitation. Just the quiet rhythm of breath, the hum of the bond, the pulse of magic beneath my skin. I could feel it—the pull of the original ritual scroll, faint but unmistakable, like a splinter in my magic. It was here. In the restricted wing. The one that held the Blood Moon Ritual records.
“Third floor,” I whispered. “East chamber.”
Kael nodded. “Silas, take the west. Cut off her escape. I’ll go in front. Opal—stay close.”
I didn’t argue.
Just followed as he led us up the spiral staircase, the stone slick beneath our boots. The air grew colder, heavier, the magic pressing down like a weight. And then—
A voice.
“I knew you’d come.”
Maeve stood in the doorway of the east chamber, her silver hair pulled back, her eyes sharp with fear. She held the original ritual scroll in one hand, the Blood Moon Codex in the other. Her face was pale, her hands trembling.
My breath caught.
“Aunt Maeve,” I said, stepping forward. “Put it down. You don’t have to do this.”
“I have no choice,” she said, her voice breaking. “Vexis has me. He’ll kill you if I don’t obey.”
“And if you help him?” I asked. “If you rewrite the truth? What then?”
“Then at least you’ll be alive,” she said, tears burning in her eyes. “I didn’t do this to hurt you, Opal. I did it to protect you.”
“By lying?” I demanded. “By helping him erase the truth? By making me believe the bond was never real?”
“The bond *isn’t* real,” she said. “It was forged in chaos. In blood. In magic. It’s a curse, Opal. And it’s killing you.”
“And if I break it too soon?” I asked, stepping closer. “If I sever it before the moonfire is fully awakened? What then?”
She hesitated.
And in that silence, I knew.
“It’ll destroy me,” I said. “The power will consume me. And you know it.”
She didn’t answer.
Just lowered her head, her shoulders trembling.
And in that moment, I saw it—
Not betrayal.
Not greed.
But *fear*.
She wasn’t doing this because she wanted to.
She was doing it because she had no choice.
And that made it worse.
Before I could move, Kael stepped forward, his voice low, dangerous. “You’re making a mistake, Maeve. If you rewrite the scroll, if you erase the truth, Vexis will use it to seize power. He’ll control every supernatural being. And Opal? She’ll be the first to burn.”
She flinched. “I don’t want that.”
“But you’re doing it anyway,” I said, stepping closer. “Because Vexis has you. Because he’s using your love for me to control you.”
She didn’t answer.
Just looked at me, her eyes filled with sorrow. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for this.”
“But you’re doing it anyway,” I said. “And if you don’t stop, I’ll make you.”
She didn’t move. Just stood there, her hands tightening around the scroll.
And then—
I lunged.
Not with magic.
Not with fire.
With my body.
I stepped into the chamber, my arms spreading, shielding the scroll. Her hand slammed into my chest, knocking me back, but I didn’t fall. I *burned*.
Moonfire erupted from my skin—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
It didn’t hurt her. Didn’t burn.
It *revealed*.
For a single, blinding second, the entire chamber was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Maeve’s aura—normally a soft silver—was laced with something darker. A thread of shadow, twisting through her magic like poison. And beneath it, a sigil. Faint. Hidden. But *there*.
A mark of the Unseelie Court.
She wasn’t just a mentor.
She was a *prisoner*.
And she wasn’t working for Vexis.
She was *enslaved* by him.
The realization hit like a blade.
She’d been sent to destabilize the truce. To turn me against Kael. To make me break the bond. And now, with my power awakened, she’d tried to provoke me—
And failed.
The light faded. Maeve stumbled back, her eyes wide, her face pale. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t look at Kael.
She looked at the scroll.
And then—
She threw it.
Not at me.
Not at Kael.
At the far wall—where a hidden panel flickered open, revealing a narrow chute that led down into darkness.
“No!” I shouted, lunging.
But I was too late.
The scroll vanished into the chute, the panel slamming shut behind it.
Maeve laughed—soft, broken. “You’ll never find it. And when the Blood Moon rises, she’ll die screaming. And you’ll be the one who let it happen.”
Kael moved like death.
One second, he was beside me.
The next, he had her by the throat, slamming her against the wall, his claws at her neck. “Where is it?” he growled. “Where did it go?”
She didn’t answer. Just smiled, blood trickling from her lip. “You’ll never stop him. He’s already won.”
“Tell me,” he snarled, pressing harder. “Or I’ll rip your heart out.”
“Do it,” she whispered. “But it won’t change anything. The truth is already gone. And so is she.”
I stepped forward, my hand on his arm. “Kael. Stop.”
He didn’t move. Just kept his eyes on her, his chest heaving.
“She’s not worth it,” I said. “The scroll is what matters. And if she knows where it went, we need her alive.”
He hesitated.
Then, slowly, he let her go.
She slid down the wall, gasping, her hand at her throat. “You’re too soft,” she spat. “That’s why you’ll lose.”
“And you’re too broken,” I said, stepping closer. “That’s why you’ve already lost.”
She didn’t answer.
Just looked at me, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t name.
Pity?
Regret?
Or just the hollow stare of a woman who’d sold her soul and realized too late it wasn’t worth the price?
“The chute,” I said, turning to Silas. “Where does it lead?”
He stepped forward, running his fingers along the wall. “There’s a network beneath the Citadel. Old tunnels. Forgotten passages. If the scroll was sent down, it’s headed for the deepest vault—the one that connects to the Blood Pact Archives in Nocturne.”
My breath caught.
“Vexis,” Kael said, his voice low. “He’s trying to rewrite the truce.”
“Then we stop him,” I said. “Before he changes the record. Before he erases the truth.”
“It’s a trap,” Silas said. “He wants you to follow. He wants you to break the bond.”
“And if we don’t?” I demanded. “If we let him win? If we let him bury the truth?”
No one answered.
Because they knew.
If we didn’t go, my mother would remain trapped.
The bond would remain a lie.
And Vexis would rule.
“Then we go,” I said, stepping toward the panel. “Now.”
Kael didn’t stop me.
Just followed.
And as we moved through the hidden tunnels, the bond humming between us, I knew one thing.
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about *truth*.
And I would burn the world to get it.
We reached the vault as the first light of dawn broke over the Citadel, its silver glow painting the stone spires in blood. The air was thick with magic, the scent of old parchment and dried blood rising from the stone. And there, in the center of the chamber—
The scroll.
Resting on a pedestal of black stone, its edges singed, its ink smudged but still readable.
And standing over it—
Vexis.
He turned slowly, his ageless face pale, his eyes like shards of ice. He wore a long, flowing robe of deepest black, the sigil of the Unseelie Court embroidered over his heart. His presence filled the room, cold, suffocating, like the air before a storm breaks.
“You’re too late,” he said, his voice like cracked stone. “The truth is already rewritten. The bond is already broken.”
“Then prove it,” I said, stepping forward. “Let me see the scroll.”
He smiled—slow, knowing, venomous. “Come and take it, little witch. If you dare.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I walked forward, my boots silent on the stone, my magic rising like a tide. The bond flared, a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath my feet. Kael followed, his presence a wall at my back. Silas stayed near the entrance, watching, waiting.
I reached the pedestal.
And I looked.
The scroll was real.
The ink was fresh.
And the words—
“The Blood Moon Bond was forged under false pretenses. The union is null. The claim is void. The witch Opal is free.”
My breath caught.
It was a lie.
But it was written in blood.
And blood oaths could not be broken.
“You see?” Vexis said, stepping closer. “It’s over. The bond is broken. You’re free.”
But I wasn’t.
Because the bond still hummed beneath my skin.
Still pulsed in my veins.
Still tied me to Kael.
And then—
I laughed.
Soft. Cold. Dangerous.
“You think this breaks it?” I asked, stepping back. “You think a forged scroll, written in stolen blood, can sever what magic forged?”
His smile faltered.
“The bond is not in ink,” I said, my voice rising. “It’s in *blood*. In *magic*. In *truth*. And you can’t rewrite the truth, Vexis. Not with lies. Not with fear. Not with *this*.”
I raised my hand.
And I burned it.
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips, not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
The scroll ignited, the flames silver and wild, consuming the lie, reducing it to ash. The pedestal cracked. The walls trembled. The air screamed.
And Vexis—
He didn’t move.
Just smiled.
“You think you’ve won?” he said. “You think this changes anything? The bond is still a curse. And you—”
He stepped closer.
“—are still mine.”
I didn’t flinch.
Just stepped forward, my magic rising, my power burning.
“No,” I said. “I belong to no one. Not you. Not Kael. Not even the bond.”
“Then why do you still stand beside him?” he asked, his voice low. “Why does your magic rise when he touches you? Why do you fight for him?”
“Because I *choose* to,” I said. “And that’s something you’ll never understand.”
He didn’t answer.
Just turned—and vanished into the shadows.
Like smoke.
Like a lie.
And then—
The chamber was silent.
The scroll was ash.
The truth was still ours.
Kael stepped forward, his hand finding mine, not in possession, not in control, but in *solidarity*. His gold eyes burned into mine, not with suspicion, but with something raw. Something I couldn’t name.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “You could’ve let it stand. You could’ve been free.”
“And what kind of freedom is built on lies?” I asked, my voice low. “I didn’t come here to be free. I came here to be *true*.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something *his*.
I didn’t fight.
Just buried my face in his coat, my breath trembling, my heart breaking.
Because I’d just done the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do.
I’d chosen him.
Over revenge.
Over hate.
Over everything.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
The bond hummed between us, warm, alive, *real*.
And for the first time, I wondered—
Was I fighting to break it?
Or was I fighting to keep it?
I didn’t know.
But I knew one thing.
The game had changed.
And I was no longer sure who was winning.
Or if I even wanted to.