The Moon Temple rose from the cliffside like bone carved from the earth itself, its pale towers bathed in silver light. That was where the packs gathered the next night—where the prophecy would be bound into ritual.
Lyra's feet felt heavy as stone as she was led through the great doors. She had dressed in Silverclaw white, a gown threaded with faint shimmer, though she would have sooner worn armor. The silk clung to her shoulders, a soft mockery of the steel resolve she needed.
Her brother leaned close, whispering as they walked. "You don't have to let him see you afraid."
"I'm not afraid," she lied, her chin high. "I'm furious."
The hall was filled with watching eyes—Silverclaw and Shadowfang alike. Two packs divided by centuries of bloodshed, now here to witness their heirs bound like cattle in a trade. Lyra's wolf bristled, pacing beneath her skin, unsettled yet restless with instinct she didn't want to name.
And then she saw him.
Kael stood at the far end of the altar, dressed in black that made his presence even more commanding, his aura filling the chamber like a storm. His jaw was set, his eyes hard, his shoulders so stiff they might have been carved from stone.
When his gaze found hers, the bond flared again—hot, electric, undeniable. Lyra's breath caught despite herself. She hated it. Hated him. Hated that her body reacted like her will meant nothing.
The seer stood between them, her silver-clouded eyes unreadable. "The Moon has spoken. Tonight, Shadowfang and Silverclaw are joined. Tonight, Alpha and Omega accept the path the Goddess has chosen."
Kael's lips curled in something that wasn't quite a smile. His voice was low, sharp enough for only her to hear. "If you expect me to kiss you, Omega, don't hold your breath."
Lyra tilted her head, her tone sweet as venom. "I'd sooner kiss a snake. At least I'd know where the venom was coming from."
The seer raised her hands. "Join your palms."
Kael reached forward. For a heartbeat, Lyra considered refusing. But the weight of her pack's stares pressed into her back, and her pride would not let her falter. She laid her hand in his.
The bond ignited.
Heat surged through her veins, her wolf crying out in recognition even as her mind screamed in defiance. She saw the same flash of shock in Kael's eyes—his breath catching, his grip tightening for an instant before he wrenched control back.
The seer's chant wove through the hall, words older than memory. Power wrapped around their joined hands like glowing threads of moonlight. The bond sealed, final and unyielding.
When it was done, the seer lowered her hands. "It is done. The Moon has bound you."
The hall erupted in cheers, howls, chants of unity.
Lyra and Kael stood locked in silence, their hands still pressed together, both unwilling to be the first to pull away.
Finally, Kael leaned close, his voice a blade against her ear. "This changes nothing. You are no mate of mine."
Lyra smiled sweetly, though her chest burned. "Then we agree—for once."