Black Lantern Oaths Novels & Stories

“They said the Shadow’s army parts when you appear. That your mark burns through the veil itself. If there’s any chance to survive this, it’s through you.” Lucian’s eyes met mine searching, conflicted, proud. “You heard him,” he murmured. “It’s time.” Time. For what I had spent half my life denying. For what the Moon Goddess had whispered in dreams I’d refused to remember. The Harbinger’s Oath. I followed Kael through the tunnels to the heart of the fortress the old council chamber, now half buried in rubble. The moon crest that once crowned the ceiling had cracked in two, but the altar beneath it still stood, carved of stone older than the packs themselves.

Moonlight pooled there, molten silver and impossibly bright. They did not mix the lights. They brought them close, closer still, until the air between them thickened — mist becoming veil, veil becoming mirror, mirror becoming doorway. Thorn’s voice carried the weight of blood and history: “By blood invoked.” Kira’s answer rose soft and solemn: “By oath remembered.” “By the elder groves and the hidden wells,” Thorn continued. “By the sky that keeps the secrets of the moon,” she replied. Mara did not close her eyes.

A golden light, dim but stubborn, began to flicker at the edges of my vision. The Sanctuary Law was a blood-oath pact. It was an ancient wall. If an Alpha claimed a life as his own, a Witch could not take it for a sacrifice. To kill a soul claimed by the King was to invite a curse that would swallow the Witch herself. Selene let out a shriek of pure rage. It was a sound that made the window glass shatter into a thousand pieces. “You think you can stop me with words?” she hissed. Her shadows lashed out, striking the walls around us. “You think a blood-oath will save her from what I am?”

He knelt before the stone altar and made a solemn oath to the sacred relic that symbolized the pack's highest faith. "I, Derek Blackwood, as Alpha of this pack, with the departed spirit of Grand Elder Fenrir as my witness, swear I will never seek out Katherine Vance again or disturb her life. If I break this oath, I willingly accept the Moon Goddess' harshest punishment. I'll lose my Alpha power and die alone." As the oath left his lips, the moonstone glowed faintly, as if witnessing this solemn promise. After making the vow, Derek became a different person.

A pulse like tar seared through her veins. Lyra gasped and ripped the glove off. Her mark—once bright gold—now flickered with dark threads weaving through it, like veins of ink. Cassian’s eyes widened. “Okay. Nope. I hate that. I hate that a LOT.” Malachai stepped forward, voice sharp. “The Oath is reacting to the dead.” Ronan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s trying to bind her.” Lyra’s heart hammered. “I won’t let it.”

But I let the smirk leave my lips, telling there is more. “And there is the other thing. If you don’t tell us, we will have a dark witch perform the enchantment that will not let your soul rest, no Mystic Kingdom afterlife for you. So complying is really your only choice.” I growl. Tobias looks at me shocked but proud and my sweet mate purrs at me in delight. Talon’s blood loss is increasing but the sentiment of thinking his soul won’t go to the Mystic Kingdom, where all werewolves work for their souls to go, really has him contemplating his life choices. But before he answers there is a private mindlink.

Every flicker of flame stretched their snarling jaws across the walls, as if the past itself leaned closer to listen. Elora stood in the center of it all, her brother’s hand brushing hers in a small, unspoken tether. Liam’s palm was calloused, rough with years of surviving alone, and yet it grounded her more than any chain of runes or ritual could. Joel stood across the room, just beyond the semicircle of council elders. His posture was soldier-straight, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed the storm clawing inside him. The silence was suffocating until Elder Thalos placed a parchment on the table, its edges brittle with age, the wax seal cracked but still stamped with the crest of the Blackthorn

The keep’s hall had not seen banners since before the war. Tonight, they hung again — deep crimson and silver, the colors of Trixie’s line. Torches burned steady against the stone walls, their light flickering across faces both weary and hopeful.Only a select few were gathered. Captains. Elders. Friends who had bled beside her and lived to see dawn. Lana stood near the front, her walking staff carved with fresh runes of blessing. Droco, broad-shouldered and scarred, leaned against a pillar with his arms folded, his dark eyes softening only when they flicked toward Trixie.

"Nothing too troublesome. I require your mate’s assistance on a...delicate matter." Ryker’s fists clenched. "No." Lilith laughed, a husky, dangerous sound. "Your opinion matters little. If you refuse, the blood oath will consume you. Or have you forgotten?" Selene’s heart pounded. "What’s the oath?" Lilith’s smile was feline. "A promise, sealed in blood and magic. Ryker swore himself to me in exchange for his pack’s safety long ago. Break it, and his soul burns. Painfully."

"She's someone else's wife now. Don't do anything reckless." At her words, his expression darkened. His eyes turned red with emotion. He tried to pull away from her grip, clearly wanting to come closer and maybe even stop the ceremony. But Edward had planned for this. Security guards stepped forward and blocked Charalambos immediately. He tried pushing past them, but Francesca held him back with all her strength and shouted, "Charalambos, stop it! You're in the Moonlight Pack's territory, remember?" "My pup and I are here. You'd better act accordingly."