CHAPTER SEVEN

The Ritual That Bites Back

And above them, the Moon smiled.

Nyxara felt it before she understood it—the shift in pressure, the way the night bent inward like a lung pulling in breath. The silver light thickened, no longer pouring but pressing, forcing the world to make room for it.

The Moon was not descending.

It was claiming.

“Oh,” Nyxara breathed. “That’s… unsettling.”

Kaelion didn’t answer. His grip on her hand tightened as the floor beneath their feet vibrated, ancient runes carved into the stone flaring to life one by one. Silver lines crawled outward in a widening circle, forming a pattern older than language—older than packs.

The ritual chamber.

Nyxara blinked. “You’re telling me this room was here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?”

“There was no earlier,” he said grimly.

The air snapped.

A force slammed outward from the center of the chamber, knocking the doors shut with a thunderous boom. Nyxara yelped as the sound echoed through her bones.

“Well,” she muttered, “guess we’re committed.”

The Moon’s voice slithered back into her mind, closer now. Louder.

“Stand, vessel.”

Nyxara’s knees buckled as invisible hands hauled her upright, positioning her at the center of the glowing circle. Silver light rose around her like mist, warm and invasive, tugging at something deep in her chest.

Kaelion tried to move with her.

The runes flared violently.

He was thrown backward.

“Kaelion!” Nyxara shouted as he hit the stone wall hard, the impact rattling the chamber. Silver chains of light lashed out, wrapping around his wrists and ankles, pinning him in place.

“No,” he growled, struggling against them. “This is wrong.”

The Moon did not care.

“The anchor resists,” it observed coolly. “Expected.”

Nyxara’s heart pounded. “You said together!”

“And you are,” the Moon replied. “Do not mistake separation for absence.”

The silver mist thickened, sliding beneath Nyxara’s skin. Her wolf reared, snarling, but the Moon pressed down harder, forcing her to feel—the hunger, the pull, the ancient ache that had split the sky itself.

She gasped, clutching at her chest as the light burrowed deeper. “This—this is too much—”

“Breathe,” Kaelion barked, voice strained but sharp. “Nyxara, look at me.”

She did, vision blurring, and latched onto him like a lifeline.

“I’m here,” he said fiercely. “Do not let it drown you.”

The Moon hummed, almost amused. “He anchors you even now.”

Nyxara swallowed hard. “You could’ve warned me about the chains.”

“They are necessary,” the Moon said. “The anchor must not move until the vessel accepts.”

“Accepts what?” Nyxara demanded.

The answer came not in words—but in sensation.

Heat flooded her veins. Not burning—wanting. Power surged through her like a tide, dragging memories, instincts, desires to the surface. She felt the Moon’s hunger as if it were her own—endless, aching, furious at being contained for so long.

Her wolf howled inside her chest.

Nyxara cried out as silver markings bloomed across her skin—curling along her arms, her ribs, her spine. The scar at her side flared white-hot, reshaping itself into something deliberate. Symbolic.

Claimed.

Kaelion snarled as he watched it happen, his own marks flaring in response. “Stop,” he commanded the Moon. “You’re tearing her apart.”

“She is not breaking,” the Moon said. “She is opening.”

Nyxara laughed breathlessly, hysteria creeping in. “You have a very… optimistic definition of opening.”

The silver mist coiled tighter, dragging her awareness downward—into the bond, into Kaelion. She felt him suddenly. Not just his presence—but his strength, his restraint, the iron discipline holding back a storm that mirrored her own.

It was overwhelming.

Intimate.

“Oh,” she whispered. “That’s—you’re very loud in here.”

Kaelion stiffened. “You can feel me.”

“Unfortunately,” she panted. “Yes.”

The Moon’s light pulsed brighter. “The bond deepens.”

Nyxara’s breath hitched as the silver chains around Kaelion flared, pulling energy from him—steady, grounding, anchoring the chaos raging inside her.

“No,” he growled, muscles straining. “Take it from me. Not her.”

Nyxara snapped her head toward him. “Don’t you dare.”

“I will not watch you drown,” he shot back.

“And I won’t let you bleed for me!”

The Moon’s voice cut through them both. “Enough.”

The chamber shook violently as the Moon’s power surged.

“Vessel,” it said. “Accept the hunger—or it will consume you.”

Nyxara trembled. “How?”

“Claim it.”

She stared at the glowing runes beneath her feet, at the silver marks etched into her skin, at Kaelion bound and burning because of her.

Her chest tightened.

“I don’t want to be a god,” she whispered. “I don’t want to rule. I don’t want to devour the sky.”

The Moon paused.

Then, softly: “You already have.”

Nyxara sucked in a sharp breath as memories surged—how the light had bent to her will, how the Moon had answered when she raised her hands. How power had tasted like relief.

Her wolf growled, insistent.

Mine.

Nyxara clenched her fists. “If I accept this,” she said slowly, “you stop hurting him.”

The Moon considered.

“Yes.”

“And you don’t control me.”

A longer pause.

“You will never be uncontrolled,” the Moon said. “But you will be sovereign.”

Nyxara laughed weakly. “That’s a politician’s answer.”

The silver mist thickened, pressure mounting, the hunger clawing harder. Kaelion groaned as the chains bit deeper into his skin.

Nyxara made her decision.

“Fine,” she said hoarsely. “I accept.”

The chamber went still.

The silver light rushed inward—into her—flooding every empty space she hadn’t known existed. Nyxara screamed as power locked into place, the hunger settling—not gone, but fed.

The Moon pulsed once.

Satisfied.

The chains around Kaelion shattered.

He collapsed to his knees, gasping, silver marks blazing as the bond snapped fully into alignment.

Nyxara staggered forward, catching him instinctively as the last of the light faded. The runes dimmed. The chamber stilled.

The Moon rose back into the sky.

Whole.

For the first time that night, silence fell—not waiting.

Finished.

Nyxara sagged against Kaelion, exhausted beyond words. “Please tell me… that was the last surprise.”

He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, holding her like something precious and fragile and dangerous all at once.

“For tonight,” he said softly.

She huffed a weak laugh. “I’ll take it.”

Above them, the Moon watched—quiet now.

But not asleep.