The High Pass lived up to its name.
Jagged stone ribs jutted from the mountainside like the remains of something colossal that had died trying to cross. Wind screamed through the narrow corridor, carrying the sharp scent of ice and old blood. Even Ronan felt it—the instinctive warning every wolf carried in their bones.
This place was wrong.
Eryndor limped behind them, supported by one of Ronan's pack who had joined them at dawn. Three wolves had answered Ronan's call by scent and howl—silent, wary, eyes constantly scanning Aria.
They did not bare their teeth.
But they did not relax either.
Aria felt it. The weight of their suspicion pressed against her ribs harder than the cold. She kept her glow dim, the shard hidden beneath her cloak, her hands steady despite the tremor in her chest.
Ronan noticed anyway.
He slowed his pace until he walked beside her, shoulder brushing hers deliberately—a silent message to the pack.
She stands with me.
The wolves understood the gesture even if they did not accept it yet.
The stranger—Eamon, as Eryndor had finally named him—halted at the mouth of the pass. His staff sank into the ice with a dull crack.
"This is as far as chance follows us," Eamon said. "Beyond this point, the High Pass chooses who may cross."
Ronan snorted. "Mountains don't choose."
Eamon's gaze sharpened. "This one does."
The wind surged suddenly, howling through the stone corridor like a scream torn from a throat. Loose snow spiraled upward, stinging skin and eyes. One of the younger wolves growled low in his chest.
Aria closed her eyes.
She felt it then—the same presence she had sensed in the stone arch, deeper and heavier. Not the Devourer.
Older.
Watching.
"This place was a trial," she whispered. "For Moonborn."
Eamon nodded slowly. "And for their chosen."
Ronan flexed his hands. "We're not turning back."
"No," Eamon agreed. "We're not."
They stepped into the pass.
⸻
The First Trial — Truth
The moment Aria crossed the threshold, the wind died.
Silence crashed down so suddenly it hurt.
The wolves froze. Frost crept over the stone like a living thing, sealing the entrance behind them with a thunderous crack.
One of the pack snarled. "Alpha—!"
Ronan lifted a hand. "Hold."
The air shimmered.
Then the world broke.
The pass vanished.
Each of them stood alone.
Aria gasped as the mountain dissolved into a familiar room—small, dim, with peeling paint and a window that never quite shut. Her old apartment.
Her heart slammed painfully.
"No… not this…"
The smell of old coffee and rain hit her senses. She heard her own younger voice arguing with someone on the phone. Saw herself—tired, shaking, alone—sitting on the edge of the bed.
A voice whispered behind her.
This is who you were when no one chose you.
Aria turned slowly.
The shadow wore her face.
"You begged for love," the shadow-Aria said softly. "You begged for someone to stay. And everyone left."
Aria's throat burned. "That's not true."
The shadow smiled sadly. "Isn't it?"
Memories crashed over her—missed calls, unanswered texts, nights staring at the ceiling wondering what was wrong with her.
This is the truth, the pass whispered.
What you were before power.
Aria's knees buckled.
Then—warmth.
A presence.
Ronan.
Not physically—but through the bond.
Look again, his voice echoed inside her. Look at what you survived.
Aria sucked in a breath and stood straighter.
"Yes," she said, voice shaking but firm. "I was alone. I was hurt. I was abandoned."
The shadow nodded.
"And I didn't die."
Light stirred beneath her skin.
"I learned how to stand without power," Aria continued. "So now that I have it, I won't let it define me."
The shadow cracked—fractures spreading across its surface.
"I am not ashamed of who I was," Aria said. "She kept me alive."
The shadow shattered.
The apartment dissolved.
⸻
Ronan's Trial
Ronan stood in a field of blood and snow.
Bodies littered the ground—wolves from his pack. Young. Old. Torn apart.
His chest constricted painfully.
He recognized this place.
The massacre.
The moment he had become Alpha not by choice, but by survival.
A voice rumbled behind him.
You failed them.
Ronan clenched his fists. "I was too late."
You led them into death, the voice continued. You pretend strength, but everything you protect dies.
Ronan turned.
The shadow wore his face—but older, colder, crowned with bone.
"You'll kill her too," the shadow said quietly. "Just like the rest."
Ronan's breath shook.
"No."
The shadow laughed. "You already are. She bleeds every time you stay by her side."
Ronan staggered.
Then—
her voice.
Soft. Steady.
You didn't fail me, Aria's presence whispered through the bond. You saved me.
Ronan lifted his head.
"I couldn't save everyone," he said hoarsely. "That truth never changes."
The shadow smiled cruelly.
"But I can choose who I stand for now."
Silver light flickered around his claws—not Aria's power, but his own resolve.
"I am not afraid of loving her," Ronan growled. "Even if it costs me everything."
The shadow froze.
Ronan stepped forward.
"And if I fall," he finished, "I fall standing."
The field burned away.
⸻
The Second Trial — Sacrifice
They reconvened at the heart of the pass—breathless, shaken, but alive.
The wolves looked different now. Quieter. Older.
Eryndor stared at Aria with something new in his eyes.
Respect.
The ground rumbled.
A stone altar rose from the ice, ancient runes blazing to life.
Eamon swallowed. "This is the second trial."
"What does it want?" one of the wolves asked.
Aria stepped forward instinctively.
"It wants proof."
The altar pulsed.
A voice—not shadow, not Devourer—boomed from the mountain itself.
WHAT WILL YOU GIVE
WHEN POWER IS NOT ENOUGH?
Silence.
Then the altar cracked open, revealing a blade of pure moonstone—beautiful and terrible.
Eamon inhaled sharply. "A blood vow."
Ronan stepped forward immediately. "I'll do it."
"No," Aria said at once. "This isn't just yours."
The blade floated between them.
CHOOSE,
OR THE PASS CLOSES.
Aria felt the shard burn against her chest.
She understood.
"This isn't asking for blood," she whispered. "It's asking for risk."
Ronan met her gaze. "Then we choose together."
They reached for the blade at the same time.
The moment their fingers brushed the hilt—
Pain sliced through them both.
Not physical.
Emotional.
Memories tore free—fear, love, regret, hope—bleeding into the blade.
Aria cried out.
Ronan growled.
The altar drank it in hungrily.
Then—
the pain stopped.
The blade dissolved into light and sank into the stone.
The runes blazed white-hot.
THE PASS OPENS.
THE BONDED MAY CROSS.
The ice cracked.
Wind roared back into existence.
The way forward opened—narrow, deadly, but passable.
Eamon exhaled shakily. "It accepted them."
One of the wolves whispered, awed, "They offered their hearts."
Ronan pulled Aria into his arms, holding her fiercely.
"You okay?"
She nodded against his chest, tears freezing on her lashes.
"I am now."
Eryndor stepped forward, bowing his head—not just as a wolf to an Alpha, but as one soul acknowledging another.
"I was wrong about you," he said to Aria. "If you will have it… you have my loyalty."
Aria swallowed hard. "Thank you."
The mountain groaned—deep, approving.
Far above them, clouds twisted unnaturally.
Eamon looked up, face grim.
"The Devourer felt that," he said. "It knows you passed the High Pass."
Ronan's gaze hardened. "Then it knows we're coming."
Aria closed her fist around the shard beneath her cloak.
"Good," she said softly. "Let it be afraid."
They stepped onto the final ascent.
And somewhere in the dark sky beyond the peaks, the Devourer gathered itself—for the first time uncertain.