The Blood Pact Archives were buried beneath the Blackthorn Citadel, a labyrinth of stone corridors and enchanted vaults that hummed with the weight of a thousand broken oaths.
I descended the spiral staircase slowly, my boots silent on the worn stone steps. The air grew colder with every turn, thick with the scent of old parchment, dried blood, and something sharper—magic that had been sealed, bound, and forgotten. Torches flickered in iron sconces, their flames burning blue, casting long, trembling shadows on the walls. The runes etched into the archways pulsed faintly, warding against intrusion. But I wasn’t just any intruder.
I was half-fae.
And glamour was in my blood.
I let the illusion settle over me—a soft shimmer, like moonlight on water—altering my features just enough to pass the wards. My silver-blue eyes dulled to a muddy gray. My cheekbones softened. My scent masked beneath a veil of neutrality. The runes flickered as I passed, but didn’t flare. I was in.
The Archives stretched before me like a cathedral of secrets. Towering shelves of blackened oak rose to the vaulted ceiling, crammed with scrolls, grimoires, and leather-bound ledgers. Glass cases held relics—dried herbs, vials of blood, ceremonial daggers. A massive obsidian table stood at the center, its surface carved with a map of the supernatural world, every territory marked in ink that still pulsed with power.
And somewhere in this maze, hidden among the records of blood pacts, marriage contracts, and war treaties, was the truth about my mother.
I moved quickly, my fingers skimming the spines of ancient tomes. *Rituals of the First Truce. Blood Oaths of the Southern Clans. The Binding of House Nocturne.* Nothing. I needed the Blood Moon Ritual records—the ones from thirteen years ago. The night she died.
My mother, Elara, had been High Witch of the Lunar Coven. She’d volunteered for the ritual, believing it would stabilize the werewolf packs, prevent war. But something went wrong. The coven records said Kael had betrayed her, that he’d drained her life force to strengthen his own power. That he’d killed her for control.
But Kael had denied it.
And worse—he’d *known* I was searching.
He’d smelled the ink on me. Felt my magic in the library. He was watching. Testing. Waiting.
But I didn’t care.
If he wanted a war, I’d give him one.
I turned down a narrow aisle, my breath shallow. The shelves here were older, the books bound in cracked leather, their titles barely legible. *Ceremonial Sacrifices, Vol. VII. Lunar Convergences. Blood Moon Anomalies.* My fingers stilled on the last one.
That was it.
I pulled the book from the shelf, the cover brittle beneath my touch. The pages crackled as I flipped through them, my pulse accelerating. Ritual diagrams. Sigil variations. Notes on failed ceremonies. And then—
There.
A single page, scorched at the edges, the ink smudged but still readable.
Blood Moon Ritual – Cycle 13
Primary Offering: Elara of the Lunar Coven, High Witch, Bloodline of Selune.
Role: Anchor for lunar convergence, stabilizer of werewolf packs.
Outcome: Ritual successful. Pack stability achieved. Offering… extinguished.
My breath caught.
Extinguished.
Not murdered. Not betrayed. Extinguished.
Like a candle. Like a spell. Like she’d simply… burned out.
But that didn’t make sense. The ritual was meant to draw power from the moon, not drain the witch. It was supposed to be a mutual exchange—blood for balance, magic for peace.
Unless something had gone wrong.
Unless someone had altered it.
I flipped to the next page. Blank. The one after that. Torn out.
Of course.
The most important part was missing.
I slammed the book shut, frustration burning in my chest. Kael had said the records were altered. That her name had been erased. But here it was—her name, her role, her fate. And yet, the truth was still hidden. Buried beneath half-truths and missing pages.
I needed more.
I needed the original ritual scroll. The one used during the ceremony. It would have the full sigil sequence, the incantations, the names of everyone present. If someone had tampered with it, the evidence would be there.
But those scrolls weren’t kept in the Archives.
They were stored in the Obsidian Chamber—the same room where the bond had been forged.
And that room was under constant guard.
I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to my temple. My magic stirred, restless. The bond hummed in response, a low, insistent pulse beneath my skin. I could feel Kael, even now—his presence like a shadow at the edge of my awareness. He wasn’t close. Not yet. But he was awake. Watching.
I had to move fast.
I slid the book back into place and turned to leave—
And froze.
He was standing at the end of the aisle.
Kael.
Towering. Imposing. His gold eyes glowing in the dim light, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t made a sound. Hadn’t given any warning. Just appeared, like a predator stepping from the shadows.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Looking for something?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.
“Just browsing,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “The Archives are open to all envoys, aren’t they?”
“Not after midnight,” he said, stepping forward. “Not without permission.”
“Then I guess I’m breaking the rules,” I said, lifting my chin. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He stopped a few feet away, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, smell the wild musk of his skin. His gaze dropped to my hands.
“You touched the book,” he said. “*Blood Moon Anomalies.* That’s restricted.”
“So is assassination,” I shot back. “And yet, here we are.”
He didn’t flinch. Just stepped closer, closing the distance between us. The bond flared, a jolt of heat that made my breath catch. My skin burned where his gaze lingered—my neck, my collarbone, the pulse at my wrist.
“You’re not looking for rules,” he said. “You’re looking for proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That I killed your mother.”
The words hung between us, sharp as a blade.
I didn’t deny it. Didn’t look away. “And did you?”
He held my gaze, his expression unreadable. “You already know the answer.”
“I thought I did,” I said. “Until you told me the records were altered. Until you admitted you let me believe it was you.”
“For the truce,” he said, voice low. “For peace.”
“And what about *my* peace?” I demanded. “What about *my* justice?”
He didn’t answer. Just stepped closer, forcing me back against the shelf. The wood pressed into my spine. My breath hitched. His hand came up, not to touch me, but to rest beside my head, caging me in.
“You think I don’t carry it?” he said, voice rough. “The guilt. The weight of what happened that night. I was there, Opal. I saw it. I felt her magic tear apart. I watched her fade.”
My pulse stuttered.
He’d been there?
“Then why didn’t you stop it?” I whispered.
“Because I couldn’t,” he said. “The ritual had already begun. The sigils were active. The magic was beyond control.”
“And who was leading it?” I pressed. “Who performed the incantation?”
His jaw tightened. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because the truth will start a war,” he said. “And this time, neither of us will survive it.”
I stared at him, searching his face. He wasn’t lying. I could feel it in the bond, in the way his pulse spiked, his scent darkening with tension. He believed what he was saying.
But that didn’t mean I had to.
“You’re protecting someone,” I said. “That’s why you took the blame. That’s why you let me hate you.”
He didn’t deny it. Just looked at me, his gold eyes burning. “And if I am? What would you do, Opal? Would you kill them? Would you burn the Council to the ground?”
“If I have to,” I said, voice steady. “Yes.”
He exhaled, a low, frustrated sound. “You’re just like her.”
“Like who?”
“Your mother,” he said. “Fierce. Unbending. Willing to die for what she believes in.”
My breath caught.
He’d known her.
Really known her.
Not just as a sacrifice. Not just as a name on a page.
But as a person.
And that—
That was dangerous.
Because if he’d known her, if he’d respected her, then maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t killed her.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t guilty of something.
“Then help me,” I said, voice low. “Help me find the truth. Not for peace. Not for the truce. But for *her*.”
He studied me, his gaze searching. “And what if the truth destroys you?”
“Then I’ll burn with it,” I said. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
He didn’t answer.
Just leaned in.
His breath was warm against my skin. His scent wrapped around me, wild and intoxicating. The bond flared, a surge of heat that made my knees weak. My magic rose in response, humming beneath my skin, drawn to his like a moth to flame.
His lips hovered inches from mine.
Not touching.
Not kissing.
But close enough that I could feel the heat of them, the unspoken promise of what could happen.
My breath trembled.
My body ached.
And for a single, terrifying moment—I wanted it.
I wanted his mouth on mine. His hands on my skin. The fire of the bond consuming us both.
And then—
A crash.
The sound of splintering wood.
The door at the end of the Archives slammed open, torchlight flooding the aisle. Guards in Northern Pack leathers poured in, their weapons drawn.
“Alpha,” one of them barked. “We were told there was an intruder.”
Kael didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Just kept his eyes locked on mine, his breath still warm against my lips.
“There’s no intruder,” he said, voice low, rough. “Just my consort, researching history.”
The guard hesitated. “But—”
“Leave,” Kael growled. “Now.”
They didn’t argue. Just backed out, shutting the door behind them.
The silence returned.
But the moment was gone.
Kael stepped back, breaking the spell. His expression was unreadable again, the mask of the Alpha firmly back in place.
“You should go,” he said. “Before someone decides you’re more than just a curious witch.”
“And you?” I asked, pushing off the shelf. “Will you keep hiding the truth?”
“I’ll do what I have to,” he said. “Just like you.”
“Then we’re not so different,” I said, stepping past him.
He caught my wrist before I could walk away.
His grip was firm. Not painful. But unyielding.
“Next time,” he said, voice a low growl, “I won’t stop.”
I didn’t look back.
Didn’t flinch.
Just pulled my hand free and walked toward the stairs, my heart pounding, my skin still burning where he’d touched me.
I didn’t know if I believed him.
Didn’t know if I could trust him.
But I knew one thing.
The truth was closer than I’d thought.
And Kael Arcturus was the only one who could lead me to it.
The torches flickered as I climbed the stairs, their blue flames casting long shadows on the walls. The bond hummed between us, a live wire stretching back into the Archives, into the darkness where he still stood.
I could feel him watching.
Waiting.
And for the first time, I wondered—
Was I the hunter?
Or had I just walked into his trap?
I reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the corridor, the cool night air brushing against my skin. The Citadel was quiet. The Blood Moon still hung above, its crimson light painting the stone in blood.
And somewhere, deep in the shadows, the real enemy was watching.
But so was Kael.
And the game had just changed.
Because now, I wasn’t just fighting to kill him.
I was fighting to understand him.
And that—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.