Page 8 of The Onyx Covenant

“Doesn’t it bother you?” I ask quietly, making sure no one else can hear as we linger at the edge of the battle starting to slow down, knowing Father will already get us both into the final ritual. “Being a piece in his game?”

“Every damn day.” Kieran’s jaw tightens. “But what choice do we have?” He gestures to the huge obsidian tower that looms behind us—the Onyx Covenant headquarters, the neutral territory between the Eclipsia and Tenebris sectors of land. “Win the Harvest Ritual, and maybe we can change things. Maybe we can find the truth.”

Truth. The word hangs heavy. The truth about my sister’s death, about my mother’s disappearance.

A bone-deep gong reverberates through the battles and cheers, halting the remaining fights. The sound emanates from the Onyx Covenant building, signaling the end of the selection battles.

“And so, the posturing ends,” Kieran mutters, straightening beside me. He runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, the dark reddish strands standing up at odd angles. “Think I have time to make myself pretty for the ceremony?”

I snort. “Not enough time in the world for that, Stormwolf.”

“It’s Stormfang now, you ass,” he corrects, punching my shoulder lightly. “Changed it last moon. Stormwolf was my father’s name, and that drunk bastard doesn’t deserve the honor.”

“Stormfang,” I repeat, tasting the name. “Suits you better anyway.”

“Damn right it does.” Kieran grins, flashing elongated canines that give credence to his new surname.

The crowd parts as Tarek, leader of the Onyx Covenant, emerges from the shadow of the building in his black, hooded robe. Both Umbra and Elios moons are full tonight, hanging in perfect balance in the night sky. One dark as pitch, one pale as winter frost.

Tarek stops after descending three wide steps, raising his hands for silence that has already fallen.

I watch him, my pulse thrumming beneath my skin. That will be me standing there one day—the only reason I’m even playing along with my father’s twisted plan. He thinks I’ll be his pawn if I win the Harvest Ritual and take Tarek’s place, but I know better. This is about more than loyalty to my father. It’s about ensuring no one from the enemy pack, Elios, wins. If they do, they’ll control both territories for the next ten years, and that’s a future he refuses to let happen.

I have other plans.

“Wolves of Umbra and Elios,” he begins, his voice carrying across the clearing without effort. “Tonight, we gather as our ancestors did to choose those who will participate in the sacred Harvest Ritual.”

I study the faces around me, the mingled looks of reverence and bloodlust. Both packs may hate each other, but they respect the ancient traditions that bind us.

“For six centuries, the Harvest Ritual has determined who will lead our divided nation,” Tarek continues. “For fifty years, the Umbra pack has held this honor.”

A roar goes up from the Umbra wolves behind me. I remain silent, my attention fixed on Father, who stands with a triumphant smile carved into his face.

“Tonight, we have decided to select five champions from each pack. Five strong Alphas who will compete for control of the Onyx Covenant, for the right to guide Wolfhaven for the next decade.” Tarek’s gaze sweeps the crowd. “The rules remain unchanged. When your manacle glows, you will have ten minutes to claim an unmated Omega from your pack. Together, you will face the trials set forth by our ancestors. Winners will take our place in the Onyx Covenant.”

A low murmur ripples through the gathering.

“From the Elios pack,” Tarek calls, unfurling a silver scroll. “I call forth the following champions: Orion Blaze, Cassius Claw, Nyx Ember, Tavian Windborn, and Zephyr Talonblade.”

Half the crowd cheers heavily as the Elios wolves move forward, climbing the steps to stand beside Tarek. I study them carefully, noting their builds and the way they move, searching for weaknesses I can exploit later. Orion Blaze stands tallest among them, his platinum blond hair nearly white in the moonlight. I’ve heard stories of his speed and his uncanny ability to anticipate an opponent’s moves.

“From the Umbra pack,” Tarek continues. “I call forth Erebus Shade, Kieran Stormfang, Maddox Daruk, Theron Shadowmane, and Nero Lup.”

My name jolts through me, though I knew it was coming. Father has been grooming me for this since I was old enough to shift. Still, hearing it spoken aloud makes my blood run cold.

We move forward together to stand opposite the Elios champions.

Tarek moves between us, carrying an ornate wooden box. From it, he removes ten identical manacles—bands of polished onyx shot through with veins of silver. Ancient power radiates from them, the old fae magic that our ancestors harnessed centuries ago.

“These bindings are sacred,” Tarek intones as he secures one around my wrist. The metal is cold at first, then warms rapidly against my skin. “They will connect you to the Omega you choose, ensuring that neither can abandon the other. Stray more than fifty feet apart for longer than five minutes, and the manacles will inject venom into your veins, killing you both. And if your partner meets an unfortunate death on their own, you must continue alone. If you are the unfortunate one, your Omega must continue on her own.”

Fuck!

The manacle seems to thump against my pulse point as though learning the rhythm of my blood. I resist the urge to try to remove it.

“When these glow,” Tarek continues, “the time will have come to select your partner and return here at midnight. It may be tomorrow. It may be a month from now. You must be ready at all times.”

He steps back, surveying us with a solemn stare. “Not all of you will survive the trials ahead. Some will fall to the challenges themselves. Others…” His gaze drifts meaningfully between the Umbra and Elios champions. “Well, interference is not permitted by the ancient laws.”

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