Page 114 of The Onyx Covenant

The last thing I remember is resting my head on his shoulder, just for a moment, as I struggle to decipher a particularly faded text…

* * *

Iwake to pale morning light filtering through the hidden doorway. Theron is no longer beside me, and for a moment, I feel a pang of disorientation. Then I spot him by the window in the study beyond, surrounded by stacks of books and folders, his expression grave as he reads from a leather-bound journal. Stretching the stiffness from my limbs, I rise and make my way to him.

“Find anything?” I ask, my voice still husky from sleep.

He looks up, and the raw emotion in his eyes stops me cold. They glisten with what might be unshed tears, something I’ve never seen from him before.

“So much,” he says quietly. “Too much.”

I kneel beside him, taking his hand. “Tell me.”

He draws in a deep breath, gesturing to the documents spread around him. “Evidence of Umbra corruption going back to my father’s grandfather—patterns my father simply continued and expanded upon.” His jaw tightens. “And worse, records kept by previous Onyx Covenant members over the earlier decades when they started documenting everything but doing nothing to stop it.”

“They just… hid the evidence here?” I ask, anger stirring in my chest.

“They knew,” he confirms, his voice laced with fury. “They fucking knew, and they chose to be neutral observers rather than mediators. They betrayed their sacred duty.”

I pick up one of the journals, scanning entries that detail systematic advantages given to Umbra during supposed fair territory divisions.

“The Onyx Covenant members choose what laws to enforce,” I say slowly. “And they were wrong to ignore this.”

“Criminally wrong,” Theron blurts. His hand clenches around a particular document, wrinkling the ancient paper. “There are records here of hunts where the Elios pack was given maybe ten percent of catches, deliberately keeping your people on the edge of starvation during harsh winters.”

I swallow hard, remembering the lean years of my childhood. “We always suspected but could never prove it.”

“I haven’t found anything on my mother yet, but I doubt they would have recorded her death here. And after what my father said before I killed him, I know he took her life.” His voice shakes, and I lean in closer to him, embracing him, my heart hurting for him.

“But why keep these other records at all? If they were complicit, why not destroy the evidence?”

“From what I’ve seen, all the records here are at least thirty to forty years old, nothing recent. So someone back then wanted the truth to come out but must have been too afraid to expose it,” Theron states, gesturing to the shelves of damning evidence. “Why else maintain the secret room, organizing everything so meticulously? Why else would they add the key in the maze that resets itself every ten years? They wanted someone to eventually discover this room and the information.”

“They could have used the Onyx Warriors,” I say, sighing. “They had the means to stand against your family.”

“But what happens after their ten years of service?” he answers. “They’d have to return to their packs, where my father could eliminate them. Or he could kill their families while the Covenant members were still in here, protected.”

We’re silent for a long moment. Finally, he nods slowly.

“Fear is a powerful motivator, but cowardice is no excuse for enabling a tyrant.”

I press my hand over his. “What do we do with all this now?”

He reaches for an ancient leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed with age. “There’s something else I found. Something that changes everything we thought we knew and what I think my mother was hinting at in her journal.” His fingers trace the faded symbol on the cover—two crescent moons, one silver, one black, forming a perfect circle together.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning closer.

“The original Covenant,” Theron says. “Written in the hand of an Alpha who led both our packs.”

My breath catches. “Both?”

We’d suspected it. The carvings in the maze hinted at unity—at something older than the split we were raised to believe in. But this… this is different.

He opens the journal carefully, revealing intricate drawings and text in an ancient script.

“Elios and Umbra weren’t just once united,” he says. “They were never meant to be divided. One pack. One strong, unified pack that worshipped both moons together.”

His eyes meet mine, alive with the weight of truth. “The silver moon of light and the black moon of shadow… they were always two halves of the same whole.”

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