The Ceremony (Part 02)

The recognition was instantaneous, undeniable. Every cell in my body seemed to rearrange itself around this new reality. This was what the stories spoke of—the soul-deep certainty, the gravitational pull, the feeling of pieces long scattered finally coming together.

My breath hitched.

For one perfect, suspended moment, I allowed myself to believe. To hope. To imagine a future where I stood beside him, no longer invisible, no longer worthless.

But then I saw his face.

Kael's expression didn't shift. No recognition. No awe. Just… disbelief.

And something worse: disgust.

"You?" he said, voice sharp enough to slice open bone. "You are my mate?"

The words fell between us like stones, heavy and immovable. I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound emerged. What could I possibly say? That I was just as shocked as he was? That I understood his horror at being paired with someone so far beneath him?

The murmurs rippled through the crowd instantly.

"That can't be right."

"She's an omega."

"The Moon Goddess must've made a mistake."

Their voices crashed against me like waves, drowning me in their collective judgment. I fought to remain standing, to preserve what little dignity I had left. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms until I smelled the copper tang of my own blood.

Elder Thorne stepped forward, her ancient eyes moving between Kael and me. "The Goddess does not make mistakes," she said, her voice carrying authority despite its softness. "The bond is clear."

"Then the Goddess has a cruel sense of humor," someone muttered from the crowd, followed by scattered laughter quickly silenced by Kael's glare.

Kael stepped forward, slowly, like he was approaching something offensive rather than divine. I could barely hold myself upright, my wolf frantic inside me — part joy, part terror.

He circled me once, his gaze raking over me as though searching for some explanation, some hidden quality that might justify the Goddess's choice. I felt stripped bare beneath that scrutiny, every flaw and inadequacy exposed for all to see.

I opened my mouth to speak, to say something, anything—

"I don't care," he interrupted coldly. "Whatever this bond is, I reject it."

Gasps broke across the circle like thunder.

My entire world tilted. I stumbled back, my breath leaving me in a single, broken gasp.

Rejection. The word echoed in my mind, impossible to comprehend despite its simplicity. Wolves might wait a lifetime for their mate bond, might travel thousands of miles to claim it once found. The bond was sacred. Unbreakable.

And yet...

"I, Kael Blackthorn," he said, voice rising so everyone would hear, "reject this mate bond."

My heart shattered.

The words slammed into my soul like a blade, severing something sacred. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't even feel the ground beneath me. My wolf let out a guttural sound inside me — a howl of grief so sharp it felt like my bones were splintering from the inside.

Physical pain followed the emotional—a searing sensation in my chest, as though someone had thrust a hand between my ribs and was slowly crushing my heart. I gasped, doubling over, one hand clutching at my sternum. Around me, the air seemed to vibrate with wrongness. The natural order disrupted. The Goddess's will defied.

Elder Thorne stepped forward, her face ashen. "Alpha Blackthorn," she said, her voice quavering for the first time in living memory, "what you propose is—"

"Is my right," Kael finished for her, his tone brooking no argument. "The ancient laws permit rejection under extraordinary circumstances."

"But—"

"Are you challenging me, Elder?" His voice dropped dangerously low.

The old woman held his gaze for a long moment before lowering her eyes. "No, Alpha. I merely caution prudence in matters of divine will."

Kael dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand, turning back to me. A hush had fallen over the gathering, hundreds of wolves collectively holding their breath. In the silence, I could hear the crackle of the fires, the distant call of an owl, the pounding of my own heart.

Rejection. Complete. Final.

But Kael wasn't done.

"You're not worthy," he added, voice lower now, just for me. His eyes, the color of a frozen lake at midnight, bore into mine with cold precision. "You're weak. Useless. Stay away from me, omega."

Each word was a separate wound, delivered with surgical precision. He knew exactly where to cut, how to inflict maximum damage. Had he been planning this? Had he always known what to say if faced with a mate he deemed unworthy?

And then… he turned his back to me and walked away.

Like I was nothing.

Just another weak girl foolish enough to dream.

The crowd parted before him like water around a stone, no one daring to meet his eyes or challenge his decision. His pack lieutenants fell into step behind him, their expressions carefully neutral. Only one—a younger wolf named Ren—glanced back at me, something unreadable flickering across his features before he too disappeared into the night.

I remained frozen in the center of the circle, the focus of hundreds of stares ranging from pity to triumph to morbid curiosity. The ceremony had ground to a halt, the ancient ritual disrupted by Kael's unprecedented action.

"Well," Brenna's voice cut through the silence, "that was predictable. Did you really think he'd accept you?" Her laughter, high and cruel, sparked a ripple of similar responses throughout the crowd.

I couldn't respond. Couldn't move. Couldn't even summon the will to feel embarrassed by their mockery.

The pain came in waves — scorching, numbing, overwhelming. The bond had only lasted minutes, but I had felt it. Deep in my soul. My wolf had felt it too. She whimpered now, confused, crushed, and hollow.

I turned, willing my legs to carry me away from this place, away from their stares and whispers. Each step was an act of defiance against the weight threatening to crush me. I would not collapse here. Would not give them the satisfaction of watching me break.

But even through the heartbreak… something stirred.

A flicker beneath my skin.

The space where the bond had once been wasn't just empty — it burned. A second heartbeat thudded in my chest. I gasped, staggering backward as the pain transformed into something else — something older, deeper.

My hands sparked with heat. My vision swam with light.

Energy coursed through me, wild and unfamiliar. It raced along my veins, pooled in my fingertips, pressed against my skin from the inside as though seeking escape. My healer's senses, normally tuned to the energy of others, turned inward, detecting something impossible.

Power. Raw and untamed. Growing.

Around me, the air shimmed with visible energy, making several nearby wolves step back in alarm. The nearest bonfire flared suddenly higher, its flames shifting from orange to an unnatural blue-white.

"What's happening to her?" someone shouted.

"Is she shifting?" another voice asked.

I wasn't. This was something else entirely. Something I'd never experienced before.

And somewhere deep inside me, a voice whispered:

*He shouldn't have done that.*

The voice wasn't my wolf's familiar presence. It was older, vaster, tinged with an authority that made my spine straighten instinctively.

*The bond cannot be broken. Only transformed.*

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the strange dual heartbeat. The pain was subsiding now, replaced by a humming energy that seemed to vibrate my very bones.

The Moon had witnessed it all. So had the Goddess.

And in that moment, something ancient inside me awakened — a power I didn't know I had. One born from rejection. One that only surfaced when a bond was broken in cruelty.

Looking down, I saw the silver chain around my neck—my mother's necklace—glowing with the same blue-white light as the fire. The small crescent moon pendant pulsed in time with my new, second heartbeat.

A memory surfaced—my mother's voice, so faint I could barely recall it: *"Our bloodline carries a secret, little one. A gift and a burden both. Remember, when all else fails, the moon remains."*

"The ceremony will continue," Elder Thorne announced, her voice steadier now, reclaiming control of the situation. "Evelyn, child, perhaps you should—"

"I'm leaving," I said, surprised by the calm in my voice.

As I crossed the boundary of the Moon Circle, leaving the sacred space, I expected the strange power to fade. It didn't. If anything, it grew stronger, more focused, as though finally finding its purpose after lying dormant for so long.

I didn't know what it was yet.

But Kael had made a mistake.

He'd rejected more than a mate.

He'd rejected a weapon.

And one day, he'd come crawling back.

The difference?

Next time, I'd be the one who walked away.