CHAPTER THREE : THE BLOOD MOON PROPHECY

“They will crave her. One will betray her. And one will die for her.”

Ava had barely caught her breath when the council summoned her.

She followed Xander down a corridor lit by silver sconces that seemed to hum with low magic. Her pendant buzzed softly against her skin with every step, as if reacting to something unseen.

“What is this council exactly?” she asked.

“The ones who enforce the Blood Moon laws,” Xander said without looking at her. “And the ones who’ll determine if you’re truly worthy of the Trials.”

Ava bristled. “If? The mark is on me.”

“They don’t trust marks. They trust power. You’ll need to show it.”

The council chamber was built of dark stone, circular and domed like a temple carved from moonlight and shadow.

Five elders sat on thrones carved from ancient trees, each wearing robes marked with clan sigils. Ava’s eyes locked on the one in the center—a woman with a crown of bone-white antlers and eyes like cracked crystal.

“You brought the girl,” the woman said, voice echoing with unnatural power.

“She’s not just a girl,” Xander replied. “She survived the Calling.”

That got their attention.

The antlered woman leaned forward. “Did you feel it, Moon-Blessed? The moment the wolf attacked you… did your body burn?”

Ava nodded slowly. “It felt like something inside me... woke up.”

“She’s awakening,” another elder muttered. “The Alpha Bond stirs.”

The room darkened. Wind curled in from cracks unseen. Then, the prophecy was spoken—etched in the stones, and now echoing through the chamber in a dozen tongues at once:

“Born of silence, blood, and moon,

She calls the heirs to meet their doom.

One will kneel. One will lie.

One will fall, and one will die.

The Bond shall choose, or death shall reign—

The Blessed marked in silver flame.”

Ava stared at them. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” the antlered woman said, “you don’t have time to doubt yourself.”

By midday, Ava was shown to her private quarters—an arched chamber with tall windows and a fireplace that crackled with blue flame.

She was about to collapse onto the bed when she sensed it.

A presence.

She spun around.

A boy stood in her room, half in shadow, leaning casually against the wall. He was tall, golden-haired, with eyes like wildfire and a smirk that made her nerves prickle.

“How the hell did you get in here?” she demanded.

He stepped forward without fear. “I told the guards I was here to see my mate.”

Ava blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stopped two feet from her, close enough that she could feel heat radiating from his skin. “I’m Ronan Drayke. Alpha heir of the Southern Flame Pack.”

He reached for her pendant, brushing her collarbone without asking. “And you’re stronger than they told us.”

She slapped his hand away. “You think being alpha gives you the right to—”

“I think the Bond doesn’t care what either of us wants,” he interrupted. “I felt you wake up last night. In my dreams.”

Ava’s breath caught. “You dreamed of me?”

“Not like that,” he said, though his eyes flickered over her like fire. “I dreamed of your death.”

Later, Ava stood alone in the moonlit garden behind Halewyn, Ronan’s words still echoing in her head.

One of them will die for you.

One of them is lying.

She reached up and touched the mark at her neck. It pulsed under her fingers.

Suddenly, the pendant flared white-hot.

And from the trees, four shadows emerged—four boys, four alpha heirs. Each deadly. Each drawn to her by the Bond.

She had never felt more watched in her life.

Or more hunted.