Page 115 of The Onyx Covenant

I shake my head, trying to absorb it. “That goes beyond anything we saw in the maze… even what I was taught in priestess training.”

“Exactly.”

Theron flips through more pages, revealing detailed illustrations of wolves gathered beneath both moons, dancing, howling, living as one.

“The division wasn’t some divine order,” he says. “It was a choice. A betrayal. Power-hungry Alphas twisted the original teachings to serve themselves.”

He points to a passage, tracing the words with his fingertip.

“As the moons find balance in the night sky, so too must the children of silver light and obsidian shadow find balance within one pack. Neither can exist without the other; together, they create harmony.?”

I feel dizzy with the implications. “So, all this fighting, all this hatred between our packs…”

“Was based on a lie,” he finishes. “Or at the very least, a terrible misinterpretation that maybe became dogma.”

“This changes everything,” I whisper, tracing the symbol of the joined moons. “We haven’t just been doing it wrong—we’ve been working against our very nature.”

Theron nods, then gestures to the hundreds of documents still waiting to be examined. “There’s so much more here to uncover. Secrets buried for generations.”

I look up at him, a new resolve burning within me. “We need to let everyone know. Not just about your father’s crimes, but about this—our true heritage. We need to bring the packs back together the way they were always meant to be.”

He leans closer to me. “We do what the Onyx Covenant was always meant to do. We bring balance. We expose the corruption, make restitution to those who suffered, and create new laws that can’t be so easily manipulated.” His eyes shine with determination. “And yes, we reunite our people, step by step.”

“We’ll do it slowly, without war,” I say firmly.

“Good thing we have the Onyx Warriors at our command if things don’t go smoothly,” he adds with a grim smile.

I press my forehead to his, and we stare into each other’s eyes.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his touch infinitely gentle despite the storm of emotions I know are raging within him.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m almost grateful for my father’s final act of cruelty. If he hadn’t tried to kill you, I might never have found the courage to end him. To free our packs from his poison.”

“And now we have the evidence to show everyone exactly who he was,” I say.

“No one will be able to paint him as a martyr.”

“Then we’d better get to work.” I rise to my feet and extend my hand to him. “We have a lot to accomplish in ten years.”

He takes my hand, standing to his full height. In the morning light, with determination hardening his features, he looks every inch the leader our packs need.

“No,” he says softly. “We have a legacy to build that will last far beyond our ten years. Starting now.”

As he pulls me to him for a kiss that feels like a promise, I hold the ancient journal between us—a physical reminder of the truth we’ve discovered. For the first time, I can envision a future where our packs aren’t just at peace but truly unified, as they were always meant to be. Two aspects of the same whole, like the dual moons overhead.

Epilogue

LYRA

Three Months Later

I’ve never seen this many wolves gathered peacefully in one place—at least fifteen hundred from both packs, spread around dozens of cooking fires, their faces illuminated by dancing flames as they share stories, food, and strong berry wine. Three months ago, this scene would have been unimaginable. Now, it feels like the first breath after being underwater too long.

“One more speech and I’m throwing myself into the nearest ravine,” I mutter to Theron, my fingers toying with the heavy medallion hanging from my ceremonial robes. The damn things weigh more than armor and have about as much grace as a bear wearing stockings.

“No ravines for at least another hour,” Theron replies, his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear. His own robe—identical to mine, with its midnight-black fabric and intricate silver embroidery depicting both pack symbols—somehow looks regal rather than ridiculous on his imposing frame. Bastard. “You promised the elders you’d participate in the moon blessing after the feast.”

“I lied,” I say cheerfully. “First rule of leadership: Tell people what they want to hear, then do whatever the hell you want.”

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