The gate spat me out onto cold stone.
I stumbled, catching myself on hands and knees. The impact should have hurt but I felt only pressure, that same weightless disconnection from my body that had haunted me since arriving in the Veil.
Voices surrounded me. Hundreds of them. Whispers and sobs and harsh breathing layered over the ever-present static hum.
I pushed myself up and froze.
Wolves packed the space around me, stretching in every direction as far as I could see. Not the flickering, fading ones from before. These were solid. Real. Their bodies cast shadows in the crimson moonlight, their chests rose and fell with breath, their eyes held the sharp clarity of the recently dead.
All of them bore crescent marks on their left wrists.
We stood in a vast amphitheater carved from black stone. Rows of seats descended in concentric circles toward a central platform, but no one sat. Every wolf stood in the aisles, pressed together, shoulders touching, fear radiating off them in waves I could feel despite my missing scent.
The crimson moon hung directly overhead, so low it felt like I could reach up and touch it. Its light painted everything the color of old blood. The air tasted of copper and salt, iron and tears, like someone had distilled heartbreak into atmosphere and forced us all to breathe it.
"Move." Someone shoved past me, their shoulder hitting mine hard enough to send me stumbling sideways.
I caught myself against another wolf, a woman with wild auburn hair and eyes that burned gold. She steadied me automatically, then seemed to register what she'd done and jerked away.
"Sorry," I muttered.
She didn't respond. Just stared at me for a moment with something that might have been recognition or might have been horror, then melted back into the crowd.
I pushed toward the edge of the amphitheater, trying to get my bearings. The marked wolves kept arriving, more appearing every few seconds as the gate continued to pull them through. Some materialized screaming. Others came through silent, their faces locked in expressions of absolute terror.
I recognized a few from the pack territories near mine. Wolves I'd seen at gatherings, at markets, living their lives right up until the moment Luna decided they weren't worthy. Now they were here, marked and damned, waiting to be tested.
A hand grabbed my elbow.
I spun, ready to fight, but the wolf holding me was small. Young. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, her face still soft with youth that death hadn't fully erased.
"Do you know what's happening?" Her voice shook. "I don't understand. I was just walking home and then the moon turned red and I woke up here and no one will tell me what's going on."
"We're dead." The words came out harsher than I intended. "This is the Lunar Veil. Luna's testing ground."
"But I didn't do anything wrong." Tears streamed down her face, glowing faintly silver in the moonlight. "I was a good wolf. I followed all the rules. I never hurt anyone."
"It doesn't matter." I gently pulled my arm free. "Luna doesn't judge based on good or bad. She judges based on worthy or unworthy."
"That's not fair."
"No." I looked up at the crimson moon, at the goddess who'd decided all of us deserved this. "It's not."
The girl opened her mouth to say something else but the static hum suddenly intensified, drowning out all other sound. Every wolf in the amphitheater went silent at once, heads turning toward the central platform.
The air above it began to shimmer.
Light condensed, bright enough to hurt, taking shape and form. A figure emerged from the glow, descending to the platform with movements that looked more like falling up than coming down.
The Moon Priestess.
She was beautiful in the way sharp things were beautiful. All edges and angles, her face too perfect to be real, her body wrapped in robes that looked like they were woven from starlight and shadows. Her eyes were solid white, no iris or pupil, just blinding light that saw everything and nothing at once.
When she opened her mouth, Luna's voice poured out.
"Children of the moon." The words resonated through the amphitheater, through my bones, through the mark on my wrist. "You have been called to the Gathering. Judged and found lacking. Brought to the Veil to face your truth."
The marked wolves pressed closer together, instinct seeking comfort even though none existed here.
"The Reckoning consists of nine trials," the Priestess continued. "Each one designed to strip away your lies. Each one testing whether your soul deserves to continue existing."
Her white eyes swept across the assembled wolves. Wherever her gaze landed, wolves flinched back like she'd struck them.
"You will face your worst memories. Your deepest fears. Your most shameful secrets. You will be forced to choose between love and survival. Between mercy and strength. Between who you were and who you must become."
The young girl beside me was sobbing quietly. Others joined her, the sound building into a chorus of despair that the Priestess ignored completely.
"Only one in a thousand survives the first trial alone." She smiled, and it was the cruelest expression I'd ever seen. "The rest of you will fade into the Veil, your souls dissolved, your existence forgotten. Luna grants no mercy to the weak."
"Then why bring us here?" A voice rang out from somewhere in the crowd. Male, angry, desperate. "If we're all just going to die anyway, why torture us first?"
The Priestess turned her white gaze toward the speaker. "Because your suffering feeds creation. Every broken heart strengthens the bonds between those who survive. Every shattered soul reminds the living why they must be worthy."
"That's insane," someone else shouted.
"That is divine." The Priestess spread her arms wide. "Luna's will is absolute. Her judgment is final. Your only choice is how you face your ending."
The amphitheater erupted in protests. Wolves shouting, crying, some trying to run only to find the exits blocked by invisible barriers. The chaos built like a wave, threatening to crash over everything.
The Priestess raised one hand.
Silence fell instantly. Not gradual, not fading. One moment noise, the next absolute quiet. Every wolf stood frozen, mouths open, unable to make sound.
"The First Trial begins at moonset." The Priestess lowered her hand and the wolves could breathe again, though none dared speak. "Those who survive will advance. Those who fail will join the faded ones. There is no third option."
She started to fade, her form becoming translucent.
"Wait." I didn't mean to speak. Didn't mean to draw attention. But the word tore out of me anyway. "What is the first trial?"
The Priestess solidified slightly, her white eyes finding me in the crowd. The weight of her attention was crushing.
"The Drowning Table," she said softly. "Where memory becomes poison and truth becomes death."
Then she was gone, dissolved into light that faded to nothing.
The marked wolves erupted again, but the sound was different now. Not anger or protest. Just fear. Pure, animal terror at what awaited us.
I tried to move toward the edge of the crowd, needing space, needing to think. But the press of bodies was too thick. I was trapped in a sea of the damned, all of us waiting for a trial that would kill most of us before it even properly began.
The crimson moon began to descend toward the horizon. Moonset was coming. The first trial approached.
I pressed my thumb against the crescent mark like Astro had shown me, trying to ground myself. The cold fire that answered was barely enough to cut through my rising panic.
The crowd shifted. Someone pushed past me, moving with purpose through the chaos. I caught a glimpse of broad shoulders, dark hair, the confident stride of someone used to people getting out of his way.
My breath stopped.
No. It couldn't be.
I shoved through the crowd, following that familiar silhouette. Wolves cursed at me as I passed but I didn't care. I had to know. Had to see.
The figure stopped at the edge of the platform, looking up at where the Priestess had stood. The crimson moonlight caught his profile and my heart, which had barely been beating anyway, stuttered to a complete stop.
Ethan Vale.
My rejected mate. The man who'd dragged me to the pack square and destroyed me in front of everyone. The reason I'd died screaming in a river of stars.
He was here.
Marked.
Damned.
Just like me.