Page 24 of The Onyx Covenant

“And another part?” Aria prompts gently. “The part that still feels something for him?”

I close my eyes briefly. “That’s the part I trust least of all.”

A hush falls over the gathering, drawing our attention to the steps of the Onyx Covenant. Tarek and Melian Nightsinger stand side by side. Though not related by blood, their matching ceremonial black robes and synchronized movements give them an eerie, otherworldly quality. Both in their thirties, they emanate power and authority that silence even the most contentious voices.

“Champions and Omegas of Elios and Umbra,” Tarek calls, his words carrying effortlessly across the clearing. “The hour of selection has arrived.”

My parents stand before them, alongside Magnus Shadowmane. The contrast between the two families could not be more stark—my parents with their light coloring and concerned expressions, and Magnus, dark and imposing, radiating barely contained hostility.

“The Harvest Ritual is our most sacred tradition,” Melian continues in a melodic yet powerful tone. “Through it, we honor the moons that guide us and select those who will join the Onyx Covenant to lead our packs through the next ten years.”

My pulse quickens as I listen. Controlling the Onyx Covenant has always been crucial to our packs. It gives the pack controlling the Covenant final authority to decide on pack disputes and to negotiate trade agreements with neighboring countries that subtly favor their pack’s interests, even while representing our entire nation. They also have the right to command joint hunting expeditions and distribute the spoils during the harsh winter months in their favor. No wonder Father’s been preparing our pack warriors for this moment all year.

“We are aware of the unusual situation that has arisen,” Tarek states, his gaze scanning the crowd until they find me. “A binding has taken place between members of different packs.”

Murmurs sweep through the gathering like wind through the surrounding pines. The weight of dozens of stares grows heavier on me. Beside me, Aria stands a little straighter, a silent show of support.

“Alpha Mooncrest has requested this binding be dissolved,” Melian announces. “Alpha Shadowmane has demanded the same.”

My father steps forward. “My daughter is a priestess, not a warrior. This binding places her in grave danger unnecessarily.”

“And such a mixing of bloodlines violates our most ancient traditions,” Magnus Shadowmane adds. “The ritual is meant to select the strongest pair from each pack, not create abominations that blur the lines between Elios and Umbra.”

I flinch at his words, and Aria’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.

“We have consulted the sacred texts,” Tarek replies calmly. “We have communed with both moons.”

Melian raises her hands, silver light emanating from her palms. “The manacles are not mere metal but manifestations of the moons’ will. They respond to compatibility on the deepest level—soul to soul, heart to heart. That such a pairing has occurred between Elios and Umbra is unprecedented but not impossible.

“Perhaps,” she continues, “this is a sign that the divide between our packs is not as absolute as we have believed. Perhaps the moons themselves seek to bring us together rather than keep us apart.”

“This is blasphemy,” Magnus growls. “The Umbra moon would never sanction such a union.”

“And yet,” Melian replies with quiet authority, “the manacle bearing the mark of Umbra now rests on your son’s wrist, bound to a daughter of Elios. Would you claim to know the moon’s will better than the moon itself, Alpha Shadowmane?”

Magnus falls silent, though the fury in his eyes speaks volumes.

My father glances over at me, then back to the Covenant members. “What of my daughter’s safety? The other champions have trained their entire lives for this ritual. Lyra has not.”

“The manacle would not have chosen her if she were truly incapable,” Tarek responds. “Perhaps there is more to your daughter than even you have seen, Alpha Mooncrest.”

My heart swells at these words, even as fear continues to gnaw at my insides.

“Our decision is made,” Melian declares. “The binding stands. Lyra Mooncrest and Theron Shadowmane will participate in the Harvest Ritual as bound partners.”

Magnus steps forward, his huge frame radiating menace. “And when this… experiment fails? When the ritual is corrupted by this aberration?”

“Then we will bear responsibility,” Tarek says simply. “But the will of the moons cannot be denied, Alpha Shadowmane. Not even by you.”

For a moment, I think Magnus might challenge them, but he merely inclines his head in a mockery of respect and steps back, his crimson eyes finding mine across the distance. The message in them is clear: This isn’t over.

I swallow hard.

“Now,” Melian continues. “Let the remaining selections proceed. Champions, step forward with your Omegas.”

The Covenant members take records of each couple. When that’s complete, Tarek raises his hands for silence.

“The Harvest Ritual will commence at midnight tomorrow. Everything you need will be provided.”

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