Trials And Tribulations Of The Oathkeeper Novels & Stories

She sneered, “What have they done to you, child?” “A trial.” I gulped hard, “I’m to pass three trials.” Something in her eyes changed at the mention of the last word. She remained silent for a moment before she let out a deep breath, for the first time the high priestess actually seemed like she pitied me. She placed a hand on my shoulder; “You have to pass the trials.” “But I— “There’s no buts. The people of the oasis have been under attack of those packs for years. We’re counting on you, Ivy Amire.”

His voice came through the door, exhausted and commanding. Protection in name, but confinement in truth. I lay on the cold floor, listening to the sounds outside. The three of them arguing, then reconciling, a twisted picture of family harmony. I listened to Gavin speaking gently, soothing his mother and Lydia. My heart died completely. I thought I would wait for his apology and his protection. It turned out everything had been nothing but my own delusion. In this house, I was always the one who could be sacrificed, the one who could be abandoned.

According to the information Safiya had provided, it was inhabited by a wolf warrior who died of betrayal. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. No matter what awaited me ahead, I had to complete the token collection mission—not just to pass the trial, but to safely return to my family.

I muttered, breaking the silence. Aric glanced at me. “They are bound by a blood oath. If they knowingly misjudge a case, it can kill them.” I explained. Aric nodded. “So it had to be one of the Keepers,” “Find out which one of them ruined my chance to get justice for my mate.” Aric’s expression hardened. “I will.” “Dig into everything,” I added. “Their movements. Their connections. Who they’ve spoken to recently. I want every detail.”

He looked down, then back up, wary. “We do not take tribunal men at their word here,” the elder said. “We do not take *anyone* at their word if we can help it. We have an older tool.” They turned slightly, addressing the gathered Lunaris. “Oath‑stone,” they said. A murmur rippled through the circle—uneasy, respectful. Nyra’s knuckles tightened on her spear. “Elder—” she began. “He walked as their watcher,” the elder said. “He admits it. He says he stopped. We will know if that’s the whole truth or just the part that makes him look best.”

Lidia searched his eyes. Desperately. Trying to find certainty there. Trying to find safety. “I promise you.” The old wolf’s gaze never wavered. “I am your father.” His voice lowered. “And I am giving you my word.” A long silence followed. Lidia stared at him. Part of her wanted to believe him. Part of her remembered all the promises people had broken throughout her life. Trust had never come easily. Not anymore. But tonight— She had no choice. Because tomorrow was coming whether she was ready or not.

The heir kicked again hard enough to make me press a hand to my stomach and the pulse that came through the bond felt like a demand instead of comfort this time. Mira pushed through the crowd and told Kael the moon was turning faint red at the edges, which had not happened in three generations and meant the old stories about corrupted oaths might be true. Elder Garrick tried to speak from the edge of the circle and insist the Rite must continue, but Kael silenced him with a single raised hand and every wolf felt the dominance roll out strong enough to force heads down all around the basin. I made the choice before I could second-guess myself and stepped fully into the circle while telling Ka

It wasn’t until I heard her voice, laced with authority and chillingly calm, that I faltered. "Are you familiar with the Sacred Healer’s Oath, Aria?" I froze mid-step, my hand hovering over the doorknob. The blood in my veins turned to ice, and an overwhelming sense of foreboding sank its claws into my chest. Slowly, I turned my head, meeting her gaze over my shoulder. She wasn’t smiling anymore. No. Her expression now was something far worse - victorious. Her voice was clear, deliberate, and sharp as a blade. "The oath you swore when you joined our medical center," she began, her pale eyes gleaming with something cruel. "Do you remember the terms?"

The way a flame could be soft or blinding, the way love could become fury if it had nowhere else to go. And suddenly, I heard the voice again. Not hers. Not mine. But older. “You stand before the First Oath.” My breath caught. “Do you remember what it was?” I didn’t answer right away. Because I did remember. Not with words, but with something deeper. A knowing that had lived in my bones since before I was born. Passed from my grandmother to my mother, from my mother to me—not in stories, but in instincts. The Guardian’s Oath was not about conquest or blood. It was not about control.