The Moon’s Ultimatum

The parchment still burned in Kade’s hand even though it had long since turned to ash. The decree of the Elders carried no fire, no physical heat, yet its weight scorched more deeply than any flame. The words hung over Blackwood like a curse, the weight of centuries of law pressing down upon their soil, their bones, their very blood.

Silence reigned in the clearing. The howl of wolves that had earlier split the night—the howl that answered Cassian’s challenge—was gone now, swallowed by dread. Only the river at the border whispered, carrying the reflection of the moon’s silver face across its black waters.

Lena stood slightly behind Kade, her pulse a drum she couldn’t silence. She had thought she’d faced fear before—Cassian’s threats, visions of blood—but this was different. This wasn’t one wolf’s hunger for power. This was something older, colder, immovable. The Elders had spoken. And when the Elders spoke, the world bent to listen.

Kade’s jaw was carved from stone, but his shoulders were taut, locked in a war with themselves. Rage and calculation, instinct and restraint. He turned, his gaze sweeping over his people. His pack. His family. Wolves who had bled with him, who had buried their kin under these same trees.

“The Elders have sent their decree,” he said, voice low but carrying. “They say the Hollow must decide. They say Cassian has a claim, as if a vulture circling our dead can call himself rightful Alpha.” His voice rose with each word, teeth bared, until the growl thundered in his chest. “But hear me, and hear me well—Blackwood bows to no one. Not to Cassian. Not to a council that has forgotten what loyalty means. Not even to the moon, if it dares demand our surrender!”

Gasps cut through the crowd. A few wolves shifted uneasily, their eyes darting skyward, as if fearful the moon might strike him down for his defiance. But others—most—growled their agreement, the sound spreading like fire through dry grass.

Lena’s throat tightened. She had never seen Kade stand so openly against the laws of their kind. It was reckless. It was dangerous. But it was also… magnificent.

Then, from the throng, a voice broke:

“The Hollow does not lie. The Elders have called for the trial, Kade. If we refuse it, we risk exile. We risk annihilation.”

It was Malrik, one of the oldest in the pack, his silver-streaked hair tied back, his eyes weary with memory. He stepped forward, staff in hand, the carved wood tapping against stone. “The Hollow is not just a tradition—it is judgment. The moon’s own blood oath. No Alpha has defied it and lived.”

The air shifted, tense, sharp. Some wolves nodded with Malrik, torn between fear of Cassian and fear of the Elders. Others bristled, loyal to Kade, ready to bare their throats in defense.

Kade’s eyes darkened. “And what would you have me do, Malrik? Walk into the Hollow like a lamb to slaughter? Let Cassian spill my blood in the name of law, while my people are chained to him?” His voice cracked with fury. “I will not. I would rather burn than see Blackwood kneel.”

A ripple of growls spread. Divided. Conflicted.

Lena’s wolf stirred inside her, claws raking against bone, demanding she step forward. She did.

“Then let the Hollow see more than an Alpha,” Lena said, her voice cutting the tension like a blade. All eyes turned to her. Her heart raced, but she did not falter. “Let it see a bond. Let it see a pack that cannot be broken, because we are not just flesh and fang. We are chosen. We are marked. The Hollow will not decide between one Alpha and another—it will decide between truth and rot.”

The silence that followed trembled. Even Malrik’s lips parted, stunned by the audacity of her words.

Kade turned, and when his eyes met hers, something shifted in him. The fury cooled, hardened into resolve.

“Then so be it,” he growled. “We accept their trial. Not because the Elders command it, but because Blackwood will show them what it means to rise from ash.” His hand lifted, clawed fingers curling into a fist. “The Hollow will not see me fall. It will see Cassian broken.”

The pack howled—loud, feral, united this time. The earth seemed to quake with it.

But Lena’s chest tightened, because though her words had steadied him, she knew what her vision had shown her. Cassian’s blade. Kade’s blood. The moon turning black.

And she could not shake the gnawing fear that fate had already chosen its sacrifice.

Word traveled faster than any wolf could run. By dawn, the decree of the Elders and Kade’s defiance had reached beyond the Blackwood border. Messengers from allied packs arrived before the morning mist had lifted, their expressions heavy with caution and fear.

The council clearing was no longer just Blackwood’s. It was crowded now with outsiders—envoys bearing the scents of Stonefang, Silverpeak, and Red Hollow. Their banners fluttered in the wind, painted with sigils that spoke of bloodlines older than the mountains. And though they had once called Kade brother and ally, their eyes betrayed unease.

“You put us all at risk,” snarled Brennar of Stonefang, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow across the firepit. “The Elders’ decree is law. Defy it, and you condemn not only yourself but every wolf who dares call you ally. Do you think Cassian will stop at your border? No. He will use the Hollow to bleed you dry, and then he will come for us.”

Kade stood tall, unbowed. “Then let him come. Better war on our feet than slavery on our knees.”

Brennar slammed his fist against the stone circle. “War means graves, Kade! Do you think the moon will spare you because you shout at the sky? You play with fire, and the rest of us will burn with you.”

Murmurs rippled through the envoys. Some nodded grimly in agreement. Others glanced at Lena, as though the answer to this gathering’s tension might rest in her.

Her stomach knotted. She was no Alpha. She was not even born of a great line. Yet the vision of her wolf—and the power of the bond she shared with Kade—seemed to echo in every whispered glance.

It was Malrik, again, who gave voice to the question none dared speak aloud.

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, his weathered eyes settling on Lena, “the Hollow’s judgment is not meant only for the Alpha. Perhaps the moon demands more.”

The words turned the air sharp. Kade’s head snapped toward him, lips curling back in a snarl. “Careful, old one.”

But Malrik did not flinch. “You cannot deny it. Her wolf carries something… other. She dreams visions of blood before they are spilled. She stands unbroken beneath your shadow, yet she does not wither. The Hollow has chosen before. It may choose again.”

Lena’s breath caught. All eyes fixed on her. Her pulse thundered. She wanted to deny it, to shrink back into the safety of silence—but her wolf rose within her, proud, unyielding, demanding to be seen.

“I am not here to take Kade’s place,” Lena said, her voice trembling at first but strengthening with each word. “But if the Hollow calls me, I will not run from it. Not for myself. Not for him. Not for any of you.”

The clearing broke into chaos. Some wolves growled in protest, others shouted for silence. The outsiders argued among themselves—Silverpeak’s envoy whispered that it was blasphemy, while Red Hollow’s emissary nodded as if recognizing something inevitable.

Through it all, Kade’s eyes never left her. When the uproar dulled, he stepped closer, his voice cutting through the noise like steel.

“Enough. Lena is mine. Blackwood’s. If the Hollow calls her, it calls her through me. We fight together, or not at all.”

His declaration slammed into the clearing like thunder. And for a moment, there was no division, no council, no Elders—only the truth of it.

Yet as the envoys departed, carrying whispers of defiance and heresy back to their packs, Lena knew the Hollow trial was no longer just about Cassian and Kade. It was about something far greater.

The moon would not simply weigh one Alpha’s strength against another’s.

It would test the bond that defied fate itself.

And bonds could break.