The Blood Moon Festival was supposed to be a celebration.
That’s what they called it, anyway. A festival. A night of unity, of renewal, of honoring the truce that had held—barely—for thirteen years. The Citadel’s central courtyard had been transformed: torches lined the stone paths, their flames dyed crimson with alchemical dust; banners of black and silver hung from the spires; fae glamours wove illusions of falling stars across the night sky. Music drifted from hidden corners—drums, flutes, the low hum of a cello—winding through the air like smoke. The scent of spiced wine and roasted meat filled the courtyard, mingling with the ever-present tang of old magic.
It should have felt like peace.
It didn’t.
It felt like a trap.
I stood at the edge of the courtyard, my hand resting low on my belly, where the child’s warmth pulsed in a slow, steady rhythm. The bond hummed beneath my skin, not with tension, not with pain, but with something quieter—anticipation. Kael was beside me, his coat pulled tight, his golden eyes scanning the crowd. He wasn’t in half-shift, but the wolf was close, pacing beneath his skin. His hand found mine, warm, grounding, and the bond flared—a deep, resonant pulse that made the ground tremble beneath our feet.
“You’re tense,” he murmured, his voice rough against my ear.
“So are you,” I said, not looking at him. My gaze swept the courtyard. Northern Pack envoys stood in clusters, their coats dark, their eyes sharp. Vampires lingered near the wine tables, their movements too smooth, too silent. Fae drifted through the crowd like shadows, their glamours shifting with every step. And in the center—
The fire pit.
A ring of blackened stone, ten feet across, filled with logs stacked like bones. It hadn’t been lit yet. But it would be. At midnight. When the Blood Moon reached its peak. That’s when the ritual dance would begin—a tradition meant to honor the truce, to symbolize the balance between species. A werewolf, a vampire, a witch, and a fae would dance around the flames, their movements a silent pact of unity.
And this year, they wanted *me* to dance.
Not as a witch.
Not as a fae.
As the Blood-Marked Consort.
As Kael’s mate.
“They’re watching,” I said, my voice low. “Not just the crowd. The elders. The High Witch. Even the Veilbreakers—they’ve got eyes on us.”
“Let them,” Kael said, stepping into me. His body was a furnace, his presence a wall. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“Yes, I do,” I said, lifting my chin. “Because if I don’t, they’ll see it as weakness. As fear. And if they think we’re afraid—”
“Then they’ll test us,” he finished. “And I’m not in the mood for games.”
I almost smiled. Almost.
But then I felt it.
Not the bond.
Not magic.
The child.
Its warmth flared—just for a second—like a candle catching wind. My breath caught. My fingers tightened on Kael’s hand. He felt it too. His gaze snapped to mine, his golden eyes burning.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice low.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “It’s not pain. Not fear. It’s… *aware*.”
He didn’t flinch. Just pulled me closer, his arm sliding around my waist, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. “Then we face it,” he said. “Together.”
And then—
The gong sounded.
Deep. Resonant. Like a heartbeat. The signal. Midnight. The Blood Moon hung low in the sky, swollen and crimson, its light painting the courtyard in blood. The music softened, the crowd stilled, and the High Witch stepped forward, her milky eyes scanning the gathering. She wore a robe of obsidian silk, her staff of blackened bone gripped in both hands.
“By the old laws,” she declared, her voice echoing through the courtyard, “we gather to honor the truce. To reaffirm the balance. To dance with fire, with blood, with truth.”
The crowd murmured—low, urgent, *hungry*.
“This year,” she continued, “the dance will be led by the Blood-Marked Consort. By Opal of the Lunar Coven. By Kael’s chosen. Let her steps speak for the bond. Let her fire burn for the truce.”
Every eye turned to me.
Not in respect.
Not in loyalty.
In *challenge*.
Kael didn’t move. Just kept his eyes on me, his hand still gripping mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in anger, not in defense, but in *recognition*. As if my power knew what my mind refused to admit.
That this wasn’t just a dance.
It was a test.
And I wouldn’t fail.
“Go,” Kael said, his voice rough. “I’ll be right here.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Just stepped forward, my boots silent on the stone, my spine straight, my chin high. The crowd parted before me, their whispers rising like wind through dead leaves. I reached the fire pit. The logs were unlit, but I could feel the heat already—radiating from the stone, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. The other dancers stepped forward: a vampire with silver-streaked hair, a fae with eyes like storm clouds, a witch from the Ember Circle, her hands stained with soot.
We formed a circle.
And then—
The fire roared to life.
Not from a torch. Not from a spell.
From *me*.
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a pulse.
It didn’t burn the logs.
It awakened them.
The flames turned silver, curling like serpents, rising high into the night. The crowd gasped. The music shifted—drums pounding, flutes wailing, the cello screaming. And then—
We danced.
Not in silence.
Not in grace.
In *truth*.
The vampire moved first—fast, fluid, his steps sharp as fangs. The fae followed—light, drifting, her movements like wind through leaves. The witch stomped—earth-shaking, primal, her hands carving sigils in the air. And me—
I burned.
Not with fire.
Not with magic.
With *memory*.
I danced the raid. The blood. The altar. The moment my mother was taken. I danced the ritual. The bond. The pain. The lies. I danced Kael—the hatred, the war, the slow, terrible crack in my resolve. I danced the child—the warmth, the fear, the love I couldn’t name. And I danced the dream—the forest, the silver flame, the child with void-eyes who called me *mother*.
And with every step, every turn, every leap—
The fire changed.
Not just silver now.
But gold.
Then crimson.
Then black.
And then—
It *spoke*.
Not in words.
Not in sound.
In *images*.
The flames twisted, forming shapes in the air: a wolf howling under the moon. A witch with silver-blue eyes. A child, floating, their veins threaded with moonfire. And then—
Vexis.
Not dead.
Not gone.
Waiting.
In the void.
And he was *smiling*.
My breath stilled.
The music screeched to a halt.
The other dancers froze.
And the fire—
It *pulsed*.
Not with heat.
Not with light.
With *recognition*.
And then—
The child flared.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Pleasure.
Its warmth surged, rising like a tide, syncing with the fire, with the bond, with *me*. My magic erupted—not in defense, not in attack—
But in harmony.
The flames turned pure silver, not burning, not scorching—but uniting. The runes on the fire pit glowed, not with crimson, not with black—but with *gold*. The music returned—soft, steady, like a heartbeat. And the crowd—
The crowd didn’t roar.
Didn’t hiss.
They *bowed*.
Not to me.
Not to the bond.
To the *truth*.
I stepped back from the fire, my breath ragged, my body trembling. The flames died to embers, their silver glow fading into smoke. The High Witch stepped forward, her milky eyes sharp, her staff tapping the stone.
“The dance is complete,” she said. “The truce is honored.”
No one spoke.
Not the elders. Not the envoys. Not even the Veilbreakers.
And then—
Kael stepped forward.
He didn’t bow. Didn’t kneel. Just walked to me, his boots silent on the stone, his golden eyes burning. He didn’t say a word. Just reached for me—his hand warm, calloused, grounding. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in fire, not in light, but in recognition.
And then—
He kissed me.
Not in magic.
Not in fire.
Not in desperation.
But in truth.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No dominance. No bond.
Just *need*.
His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. The crowd stilled. The whispers died. And then—
They erupted.
Not in anger.
Not in fear.
From *belief*.
The Northern Packs roared. The vampires nodded. The Fae bowed. And the High Witch—
She didn’t speak.
Just stepped back.
And in that silence—
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 her back.
But as I stood beside Kael, his hand brushing mine, his presence a shadow at my back—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.
We didn’t return to our chambers.
Not yet.
Instead, Kael led me to the edge of the Citadel, to the highest balcony, where the wind tore at our coats and the stars burned cold above. Below, the courtyard was still alive with music and laughter, the fire pit glowing with embers. The festival continued, but we were apart from it. Watching. Waiting.
“You saw it,” I said, my voice low. “In the flames. Vexis.”
He didn’t flinch. Just kept his eyes on the horizon. “I felt it. In the bond. In the child. He’s not gone. He’s waiting. Biding his time.”
“And the dance?” I asked. “The fire? What did it mean?”
“It meant you’re stronger than he thought,” Kael said, turning to me. “Stronger than *any* of them thought. The bond isn’t just tying us together. It’s *awakening* something. In you. In me. In the child. And if he senses it—”
“He’ll come for it,” I said, my voice breaking. “For the magic. For the bond. For *us*.”
He didn’t flinch. Just pulled me closer, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something sacred. Something ours. “Then we’ll be ready,” he said. “We’ll protect it. We’ll protect *you*.”
“And if we can’t?” I asked, my voice trembling. “If the child’s magic is too strong? If it consumes me? If the bond—”
“Then I’ll break it,” he said, not hesitating. “Before I let you die.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He meant it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
Because I wasn’t just fighting for my mother anymore.
I wasn’t just fighting for the truth.
I was fighting for a life.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
The wind howled, tearing at my hair, biting through my coat. But I didn’t shiver. Didn’t pull away. Just stayed in his arms, my head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. The child’s warmth pulsed—slow, steady, *calm*. As if it knew. As if it trusted us.
And maybe it did.
Maybe it always had.
“Do you think it heard us?” I asked, my voice low.
“I think it *felt* us,” he said, his hand splayed over mine. “And it knew. It knew we’d protect it. That we’d fight for it. That we’d burn the world to keep it safe.”
Tears burned in my eyes.
He wasn’t just saying it to comfort me.
He meant it.
And that—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
Because I wasn’t just fighting for revenge anymore.
I wasn’t just fighting for the bond.
I was fighting for a future.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
At dawn, we went to the scrying chamber.
Maeve was already there, her silver hair pulled back, her eyes sharp with fear. She wore a long, flowing robe of deep blue, the color of twilight, the sigil of the Seelie Court embroidered over her heart. But beneath it—faint, hidden, but there—I could see the mark. The sigil of the Unseelie. A leash. A curse. A chain.
Or it had been.
Now, her skin was clean. The mark was gone. Broken. Severed by the Fae High Court. And yet—
She still looked afraid.
“You felt it too,” she said, her voice trembling.
“The dance?” I asked, stepping forward. “The fire?”
She nodded. “It’s not just a ritual. It’s a *memory*. A glimpse of what the bond was meant to create. A child of moonfire and wolf, of witch and fae, of truth and fire. But it’s not born yet. It’s… waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” Kael asked, his voice low.
“For the Blood Moon,” she said. “For the alignment. For the moment when the veil between worlds is thinnest. That’s when it will fully awaken. That’s when the bond will be complete.”
“And if Vexis is still out there?” I asked, my voice breaking. “If he senses it? If he—”
“Then he’ll come,” she said, stepping forward. “And he’ll try to take it. To twist it. To use it.”
“Then we’ll be ready,” Kael said, stepping into me. “We’ll protect it. We’ll protect her.”
Maeve turned to him. “And if the child’s magic is too strong? If it consumes her? If the bond—”
“Then I’ll break it,” he said, not hesitating. “Before I let her die.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He meant it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
Because I wasn’t just fighting for my mother anymore.
I wasn’t just fighting for the truth.
I was fighting for a life.
And I didn’t know how to come back from that.
We returned to the Citadel as the first light of dawn broke over the mountains, painting the stone spires in blood. The torches flared to life as we approached, their flames turning silver for a single, blinding second—moonfire, responding to the bond, to the truth, to us. The Northern Packs stood in formation, their presence a wall of loyalty. The vampires watched from the upper balconies, their faces impassive. The Fae lingered in the shadows, their glamours shifting like smoke.
And then—
They saw us.
The crowd stilled. The whispers died. Every eye turned to my hand, still pressed to my stomach. To Kael, his arm around my waist, his presence a wall. To the way he stood beside me, not in front, not behind, but equal.
“She’s with child,” a Northern Pack envoy murmured as we passed. His eyes flickered to my belly, to the faint glow beneath my robe. “The bond is evolving.”
“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 our chambers as the sun rose over the Citadel, its light warm on my skin. The fire roared to life as we crossed the threshold, the flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls. Kael closed the door behind us, the lock clicking into place. The bond hummed between us, not as a curse.
But as a promise.
He didn’t speak. Just turned and pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. My breath trembled. My heart broke. My fingers found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something sacred. Something ours.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want us.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want everything.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me slow, deep, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in pulse. Silver energy curled from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire room was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The room stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Then let it burn,” he whispered. “Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in need.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just need.
And as the fire burned low, its flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls, 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.
But as I lay beside Kael, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.