Curiosity stirred in Lily's chest as she followed Alec deeper into the forest. The moon hung high above, its pale light slipping through the canopy in silver strands. They wound through trails she recognized, ones etched into her memory from childhood hunts and midnight runs. But as the path twisted left instead of right, and the familiar became unfamiliar, she realized they were venturing into territory she had rarely—if ever—explored.
Up ahead, through the dark embrace of trees, a flicker of light danced—a faint but unmistakable shimmer of flame. It pulsed softly, casting long shadows and a strange kind of comfort. As they moved closer, the trees gave way to a wide, silent clearing.
At the center stood a stone circle—ancient, weathered, and powerful. The stones towered like sentinels, cloaked in moss and time, their surfaces carved with patterns that pulsed with an ageless energy. Symbols older than the pack itself, older than anything Lily had seen in Caleb's teachings, curled and spiraled along the stone like vines of memory.
A small fire crackled in the middle of the circle. Around it, the pack elders stood in silent reverence, their faces solemn, illuminated by firelight and shadow. No one spoke. The air was thick with history and expectation.
One of the elders—a woman Lily had only seen in rare council meetings—stepped forward. Her eyes were ancient, sharp as a hawk's, but softened with wisdom. She bowed her head in respect.
"Alpha Lily," she said, voice strong, steady. "Tonight, you are summoned not by blood nor battle, but by legacy. We gather here, as we have for generations, to uphold the rite of binding—the sacred covenant between Alpha, pack, and land."
Lily's breath caught in her throat. She'd always known there were secrets—rituals Caleb spoke of only in hushed tones, or never at all. The kind of wisdom passed down from Alpha to Alpha, never written, only lived. But she hadn't expected this… not so soon, not like this.
She glanced at Alec, whose presence beside her felt both grounding and symbolic. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with emotion. Pride. Reverence. Memory.
The elder continued, her voice echoing with ceremonial weight. "This circle is our heart. It binds us to the spirit of the forest, to the strength of the earth, to the blood of every Alpha who came before. This bond—intangible, invisible—protects us. It fuels us. And now, it must pass to you."
Lily's legs moved on instinct, carrying her toward the center of the circle. The fire's warmth kissed her skin. Her breath felt heavier, like the air itself was thick with meaning.
The elders began to chant. A low, rhythmic hum filled the clearing, not loud but powerful, like the forest itself was humming along. The chant was ancient, sung in the old tongue—one Lily didn't understand, but somehow felt in her bones. A song of lineage. A song of survival.
The warmth she'd felt earlier blossomed into something deeper. It coursed through her body, not like heat, but like a thread pulling her into the earth, into the stones, into the history of it all. She wasn't just standing in the circle—she was becoming part of it.
"Repeat after me," the elder said, her voice rising above the chant, clear and resonant.
"I am one with this land," the elder spoke.
"I am one with this land," Lily echoed, her voice shaking but sure.
"With this pack."
"With this pack."
"With the legacy of those who came before me."
Lily paused, swallowed, then spoke again—stronger this time. "With the legacy of those who came before me."
As the words left her lips, something clicked—no, settled—inside her. The chant grew louder. The fire flared. And for the briefest moment, Lily swore she could feel them—Caleb, the Alphas before him, the wolves whose names were etched into stories—standing with her, unseen but very present.
She was no longer a girl becoming Alpha. She was Alpha. And the land, the forest, the blood and spirit of her pack—now pulsed within her like a second heartbeat.