Chapter 6

Ersa

A sigh slipped from my lips, half in reluctance, half in resignation, before I stepped forward and lowered myself into the chair opposite him. The space between us was too narrow, suffocating in its intimacy. His presence pressed against me, his scent thick in the air, curling around me until it felt like it was seeping into my very skin—choking me, consuming me, as though daring me to resist the pull of his dominance.

I shook my head, forcing myself to stay grounded, to keep my sanity. But when my eyes lifted to his, he was already watching me with that maddeningly mischievous glint. A smirk curved his lips.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” His voice dropped low. “The connection.”

The words rooted me to the spot. So it wasn’t that he couldn’t feel it—he could. He simply didn’t care. That much was written in the arrogance of his smirk. I was the one chained by this so-called mate bond, not him.

He leaned back in his chair with infuriating ease, as though this entire revelation amused him. “So tell me, Soltharic… do you honestly think this bond puts you ahead of the others?”

My brows knit in confusion, heat rising in my chest. “Do you honestly take the bond of the Moon Goddess for a jest, Alpha?” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended.

The Bondfire Calling was sacred—created to bind fated mates or, at the very least, forge a connection between two wolves who could not find their destined halves. It was not something to be questioned. If the Moon Goddess gave you a mate, you were expected to accept it. Always.

The same went for the Second Calling—a rite reserved for Alphas who could not find their fated bond. A last chance, but still revered.

Yet here he was. The Alpha. The one meant to uphold the old ways, the traditions that defined us… denying them as if they were nothing.

I could hardly believe it. I, who rarely spoke out for fear of cutting too deep, who had lived my life clinging to the ways passed down from our ancestors—how could I stand here and watch the very Alpha of the pack treat them like nothing?

“Then I’ll make it simple for you, Alpha.” I rose to my feet, pressing a hand against my chest. “I, Ersa Soltharic, reject you—Alpha Sanovar Veyroune' Dewcrest—as my mate.”

The words left my lips, yet… nothing happened. No tearing pain, no searing emptiness that was supposed to follow. The bond still thrummed between us, stubborn, unbroken.

“Interesting.” His voice was smooth, almost amused, as he stood and closed the distance between us until the air grew taut with his presence. “That confirms it.”

He leaned close. “Why do you think I allowed you here, Soltharic?” His hand ruffled through my hair with mocking ease. “Because your history doesn’t add up. Are you truly a Soltharic… or something else entirely?” His eyes glinted as if he already knew the answer. “We’ll uncover it—during the Trials.”

He turned to leave, but desperation seized me before reason could stop me. My hand shot out, clutching his arm.

“Confirms what?” The words cracked from me. Regret sank its claws into me instantly—I was still speaking to an Alpha.

I lowered my gaze, voice breaking softer this time. “Forgive me, Alpha. It’s just… all my life, I’ve carried the Soltharic name without truly believing it was mine. I only held on to it because it was all I had. Some fragment of identity.” My fingers clung to his sleeve like a child afraid to be abandoned. “So if you know anything—if you have even a single clue—I beg you, please tell me.”

The Alpha exhaled slowly, as if my desperation was both tiresome and faintly amusing. He turned back to face me, golden eyes steady, voice carrying the weight of command.

“Listen carefully, Soltharic. Rejection only takes root if the names spoken are true. I carry no other name than the one you used.” His gaze cut through me like steel. “Which leaves only one possibility—someone else named you before the Stormbanes did. You are not Ersa Soltharic.”

My fingers slipped from his sleeve, falling limp at my side. His words lodged deep inside me. Someone had already given me a name, before I was claimed by the Stormbanes? Then… I wasn’t a Soltharic at all.

Not a descendant born from the Dew Pine Tree, as the stories insisted. That was nothing but a lie, a fantasy people wrapped me in. The Soltharics were all long gone, after all. And me? I was just an abandoned child, left behind by someone who hadn’t wanted me.

I swallowed hard, forcing my lips into a brittle smile. “Thank you for telling me, Alpha. I apologize for everything that happened just now.” My head bowed low, staying down as if the marble floor could swallow me whole.