The Archives burned with silence.
Not fire. Not flame. But the quiet after violence—the kind that lingers in the air like smoke, thick with the scent of scorched magic and old blood. The void-wraith was gone. Not destroyed. Not banished. *Collapsed*. Silas had taken the brunt of its hunger, his body thrown back by the force of the rift’s collapse, his skin pale, his breath shallow. But he’d held. Long enough. Long enough for Kael and me to strike—the pulse of moonfire from my palm, the surge of vampire blood from Silas’s dagger, channeled through the sigil, overloading the conduit, sealing the tear in reality.
And now?
Now, the Archives stood intact. The wards flickered, weakened but holding. The torches burned low, their flames tinged with silver. And the pedestal—where the original Blood Moon Ritual scroll had once rested—was cracked, the sigil of the void still pulsing faintly beneath layers of ash and frost.
But it wasn’t enough.
Because Vexis was still out there. And he wasn’t just attacking the bond.
He was rewriting the truce.
Kael knelt beside Silas, his hand pressed to the vampire’s chest, his golden eyes scanning for signs of corruption. “He’s stable,” he said, his voice rough. “But the void left a mark. A scar on his soul.”
“He’ll heal,” I said, kneeling beside them. My fingers brushed Silas’s wrist—his pulse was weak, but steady. “He’s stronger than he thinks.”
Silas stirred, his dark eyes fluttering open. “Did we… win?”
“We survived,” I said, offering a small smile. “That’s enough for now.”
He didn’t return it. Just turned his head, his gaze locking onto the cracked pedestal. “He’s not done. Vexis. He didn’t send the wraith to kill us. He sent it to *distract* us.”
My breath stilled.
Because he was right.
The Archives weren’t just a repository of records. They were the *source* of the Blood Pact—the magical contract that bound the truce, enforced by blood, oath, and ritual. And if Vexis had been here, if he’d left a sigil, if he’d opened a rift—
Then he hadn’t come to destroy.
He’d come to *alter*.
“The central vault,” I said, standing. “The original scrolls. The binding oaths. If he changed them—”
“Then the truce is already broken,” Kael said, rising. “And we just didn’t know it.”
“Then we find the truth,” I said, stepping toward the inner sanctum. “Before he makes it law.”
Kael didn’t argue. Just followed, his presence a shadow at my back, his silence heavier than any words. Silas tried to stand, but I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stay. Recover. We’ll send word if we find anything.”
He didn’t fight. Just nodded, his eyes dark with exhaustion. “Be careful. The Archives… they remember betrayal.”
I didn’t answer. Just stepped into the corridor, the bond humming beneath my skin like a live wire.
The inner sanctum was a chamber of bone and shadow, its walls lined with ancient shelves carved from black stone, its ceiling lost in darkness. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, dried ink, and something sharper—fear. The original scrolls rested in glass cases, each etched with a sigil that pulsed with dormant magic. The Blood Moon Ritual. The Treaty of Thirteen Moons. The Oath of the Packs. The Vow of the Fae. The Blood Pact itself—sealed in crimson wax, its seal unbroken.
Or so I thought.
I moved to the central case—the one that held the original Blood Moon Ritual scroll, the document that had bound Kael and me, that had sparked the bond, that had started this war. The glass was intact. The seal was whole. But something was *wrong*.
Not in the scroll.
In the *air*.
The magic here was… thin. Stretched. Like something had been taken and replaced with a forgery so perfect, only the bond could sense the lie.
“It’s not real,” I said, pressing my palm to the glass. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath my feet. “This scroll… it’s a copy. A perfect one. But not the original.”
Kael stepped beside me, his golden eyes scanning the case. “Then where’s the real one?”
“Hidden,” I said, stepping back. “Or altered. Vexis didn’t just replace it. He *changed* it. Rewrote the ritual. Made it look like Kael ordered my mother’s sacrifice. Made it look like the bond was forged in deception.”
“And if we prove it?” Kael asked.
“Then the truce stands,” I said. “But if we don’t—”
“Then I’m a murderer,” he said, his voice low. “And you’re a traitor.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to scare me.
He *believed* it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
“We find the truth,” I said, turning to the shelves. “Every scroll. Every oath. Every record. We go through them all.”
He didn’t argue. Just moved to the opposite wall, his fingers tracing the spines of the ancient tomes. I started with the Blood Pact, pulling the heavy volume from its shelf, the leather binding cracked with age. The pages were brittle, the ink faded, but the magic was strong—still pulsing with the weight of centuries of oaths, of blood, of secrets.
I flipped through, my fingers moving fast, my mind racing. The Pact was a living document—updated with each Blood Moon, each truce renewal, each betrayal. And if Vexis had altered it, if he’d inserted a clause, a forgery, a lie—
Then it would be here.
And then I saw it.
Not in the text.
Not in the ink.
But in the *margin*.
A single line, written in a hand that wasn’t part of the original script. Faint. Hidden. But *there*.
“The Blood Moon Bond is void if forged in blood without consent.”
My breath stilled.
That wasn’t in the original Pact.
It had been *added*.
And if the Council believed it—
Then they could declare our bond invalid. Break it. Destroy it.
And Kael—
He’d die.
“Kael,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Come here.”
He turned, his golden eyes sharp. I showed him the line. His jaw tightened. “When was this added?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But it wasn’t here thirteen years ago. I’ve read this Pact before. My mother taught me the original wording.”
“Then it’s a forgery,” he said, his voice low. “And if we can prove it—”
“Then we expose him,” I said. “But we need proof. Not just my word. Not just your memory. We need the original.”
He didn’t answer. Just turned and moved to the back of the chamber, where a single shelf stood apart from the others. It held only one scroll—ancient, bound in black silk, sealed with a sigil of silver and shadow.
The Archive Keeper’s Ledger.
“This records every addition, every alteration, every removal from the Archives,” he said, pulling it down. “If someone added that line, it would be logged here.”
My pulse spiked.
He unrolled the scroll, his fingers moving fast. The ink was fine, the script precise—dates, times, names. And then—
There.
Two nights ago.
“Addendum to Blood Pact: Clause 7-B, ‘Void if forged without consent.’ Approved by Lord Vexis, Unseelie Court. Witnessed by High Witch.”
My breath caught.
“They approved it,” I said, my voice breaking. “The High Witch. She let him change it.”
“Or she was deceived,” Kael said, his voice low. “But it doesn’t matter. The record is here. The lie is documented. And if we don’t act—”
“Then they’ll use it against us,” I said. “They’ll call a Council session. They’ll demand the bond be severed. And when it breaks—”
“I’ll die,” he said, not flinching. “And you’ll be free.”
My chest tightened.
He wasn’t just saying it to manipulate me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “I don’t want to be free. Not like this. Not if it means losing you.”
He turned, his golden eyes burning into mine. “Then what do you want?”
“The truth,” I said. “And I’m going to take it back.”
He didn’t answer. Just reached up and brushed his thumb along the bond mark on my neck.
Fire shot through me.
A gasp tore from my lips. 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—
The door burst open.
Silas stood in the threshold, his dark coat dusted with ash, his expression grim. “We have a problem.”
Kael didn’t move. Just kept his eyes on me, his hand still on my neck, his body still pressed against mine.
“What is it?” I asked, wiping my tears.
“The Council,” Silas said. “They’ve called an emergency session. Vexis is demanding the bond be severed. He’s citing the new clause. The High Witch has agreed to preside.”
My breath caught.
“And the Northern Packs?” Kael asked.
“Divided,” Silas said. “Some believe in you. Others fear the bond. Fear *her*.”
“Then we go,” I said, stepping past Kael. “Now.”
“It’s a trap,” Kael said. “He wants us to act. To prove his point. To show the Council that you’re unstable. That the bond is dangerous.”
“And if we do nothing?” I demanded. “If we let him turn them against us? If we let him rewrite the truth?”
He didn’t answer.
Just stared at me, his golden eyes burning.
And I knew—
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.
“I’m going,” I said, stepping past him. “With or without you.”
He didn’t stop me.
Just followed.
We moved through the torch-lit corridors, the bond humming between us, the silence heavier than any words. The Council chamber was already in session—seven figures seated in a half-circle, their faces lit by the flickering torches. Vexis stood at the center, 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.
“The Blood Moon Bond is a lie,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence. “Forged in chaos. In blood. In magic. It is not a union of will, but of force. And the witch Opal is not a consort. She is a *threat*.”
“And what proof do you have?” Kael demanded, stepping forward. “That the bond is false? That she is dangerous?”
“The proof is in the Blood Pact,” Vexis said, spreading his hands. “Clause 7-B. The bond is void if forged without consent. And we all saw how it began—her blood on the altar, his on the stone. No oath. No vow. No *consent*.”
My breath stilled.
He’d done it.
He’d made the lie law.
“Then let me show you consent,” I said, stepping forward. My voice was steady. Calm. “Let me show you the truth.”
The room fell silent.
I didn’t look at Kael. Didn’t look at Silas. Just kept my eyes on Vexis.
“You want proof?” I asked. “You want truth?”
And then—
I raised my hand.
And I burned.
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
It didn’t hurt anyone. 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.
The Blood Pact—normally a deep crimson—was laced with something darker. A thread of shadow, twisting through its magic like poison. And beneath it, a sigil. Faint. Hidden. But *there*.
A mark of the Unseelie Court.
He hadn’t just added a clause.
He’d *forged* the entire document.
“You see?” I said, my voice rising. “The Pact is a lie. The clause is a lie. And *you*—”
I stepped forward.
“—are still mine to destroy.”
He didn’t flinch. Just smiled, slow, knowing, venomous.
“You think this changes anything?” he asked. “You think a little light can expose what darkness has claimed?”
“I don’t think,” I said, stepping closer. “I *know*.”
And then—
The chamber erupted in chaos.
The High Witch stood, her milky eyes wide. “The Pact… it’s been altered.”
“Then it’s invalid,” I said. “The clause is void. The bond stands.”
Vexis didn’t argue. Just turned—and vanished into the shadows.
Like smoke.
Like a lie.
And then—
The chamber was silent.
The truth was ours.
Kael stepped forward, his hand finding mine, not in possession, not in control, but in *solidarity*. His golden 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 truth.
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.