25 - The Luna Oath
Aria POV
The next few weeks were a blur...
Since the alliance was struck between Nightclaw and Moonfang, life in the pack had shifted into something sharper, heavier with purpose. Every morning, Aria woke before the sun had fully risen and fell into a rhythm that left her body aching and her mind exhausted. The warriors of Moonfang had begun rotating through Nightclaw territory for joint training exercises, and whispers of future conflict buzzed through the air.
Kael had not returned. Not once.
Though his soldiers came and went, and Nightclaw’s influence could be felt in the sharper discipline of Moonfang’s ranks, Kael himself had vanished like smoke. The only trace Aria caught of him was in the scent that occasionally clung to his men’s armor—smoky cedar and winter wind. It never failed to make her pulse race.
Her best friend, Finn, was harder to pin down than ever. She’d seen him from a distance a few times—on the training field, hair damp with sweat, shirt discarded, the glint of steel in his hands as he moved like a wolf possessed. But when she tried to call to him, he turned away. She stopped trying.
Aria poured herself into her work. The hospital bustled with preparation. Alongside her father, she helped inventory as they assembled medical kits with precision, filling them with pain relief/clotting herbs, and field-ready tools.
Dr. Aldric’s brow remained furrowed more days than not, and Aria caught him muttering supply lists in his sleep more than once. War loomed, and the Moonfang healers were preparing as if the bloodshed were already on their doorstep.
In the midst of it all, something else began to shift—something more personal, more fragile.
Lyra had mated Theron.
It had happened quietly, solemnly. No fanfare. No declarations. Just a whisper of truth that began to circulate among the pack like a flicker of candlelight. Lyra had given up everything, and in return, she had finally been chosen.
Theron had accepted the bond.
Whatever coldness had once kept him distant seemed to thaw in recent days. He appeared with Lyra more frequently, sometimes walking beside her through town, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. People noticed. They bowed their heads as she passed. Lyra had changed, too—grown into herself, somehow. Her shoulders sat straighter. Her steps were quieter, more measured. There was grace in her now, and something quietly commanding in her gaze.
She was becoming Luna.
And tonight, the pack would witness it.
The sun dipped low in the sky as Aria stood outside her family home, the scent of crushed sage and evening mist rising from the earth. Her fingers trembled as she secured her cloak. All around the village, pack members gathered, dressed in their finest—mothers with babes wrapped in wolf-emblazoned blankets, elders walking with polished canes, warriors in ceremonial garb that shimmered in the fading light.
The pack house loomed ahead, its massive staircase carved from ancient stone and worn smooth by generations of footsteps. It was there the Luna ceremony would be held, on those weathered steps. Aria walked slowly, her heart thudding.
The crowd fell into reverent silence as Theron stepped onto the steps first, his presence magnetic even in stillness. He wore a long black coat, embroidered with the silver sigil of Moonfang. At his side, Lyra emerged—her white dress trailing like mist, her flame-gold hair pinned with moonstone combs. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Aria’s throat tightened. Her sister was breathtaking.
They ascended the steps together until they stood side by side before the pack.
An elder stepped forward, voice steady. “Alpha Theron of Moonfang, Lyra of the healer’s line—you stand now before your people, bonded by fate, joined by choice. Are you ready to take the Luna oath?”
“I am,” Theron said, his voice resonant.
“I am,” Lyra echoed, her tone soft but clear.
Aria’s breath caught. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone present.
The elder presented a ceremonial blade, its hilt wrapped in pale leather, and Theron drew it across his palm without flinching. Blood welled up. He passed the blade to Lyra, and she did the same. They joined hands, their blood mingling and dripping onto the ancient stone beneath their feet.
The elder raised her arms. “By blood and bond, by fang and moon, you are joined. Let the pack feel your power.”
In that instant, the air changed.
Electricity snapped through the clearing, unseen but unmistakable. A rush of heat flooded Aria’s chest, stealing her breath as her wolf surged beneath her skin.
Around her, others gasped—some dropping to one knee, some crying out as the force of the bond swept through them—the sacred Luna bond—was complete.
The pack had grown stronger, in an instant.
Lyra turned, face radiant, and raised her hands to address the crowd.
“I promise to serve you, to protect and nurture this pack as your Luna. My heart belongs to Moonfang, and so does my power. I will guide you through the light, and into whatever darkness may come.”
The pack erupted into cheers. Aria found herself clapping, her eyes stinging with tears she hadn’t expected. Lyra had found her place. She had fought for it, bled for it—and now she stood as more than Aria’s sister. She was their Luna.
The celebration began as the moon rose, its silver light spilling over the village.
Tables with food appeared, music burst to life, and laughter echoed through the streets. Dancers swirled through the square, lanterns glowing like stars above them. Aria stood at the edge of it all, watching Lyra move through the crowd with grace, Theron never far from her side.
“Drink something,” her father said, pressing a cup into her hand. “Your sister deserves a proper toast.”
Aria smiled faintly and took a sip, the warmth welcomed. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was building. A hush beneath the joy. A warning on the wind.
As midnight neared, the crowd began to quiet once more. Theron stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the gathered pack.
“We begin this new chapter together. But the night is not over.”
With a nod, he and Lyra turned, stepping away from the festivities. The crowd parted for them, clearing a path toward the forest. Aria followed them with her eyes as they shifted—one after the other. Lyra’s white dress vanished in a shimmer of light, her sleek wolf form breaking into a run beside Theron’s larger wolf.
The crowd howled, a chorus of joy and celebration.
But then—
Another howl pierced the air.
Not joyful. Not familiar.
It was a sharp, guttural cry—close enough to hear, but distant enough to raise every hackle.
It did not belong to Moonfang.
Aria’s blood turned cold. Around her, the pack stilled. Heads turned. Warriors froze mid-step. Dr. Aldric dropped the flask in his hand, his fingers trembling.
Another howl, louder this time, echoed through the trees.
It came from the north.
And it was followed by many more.
A warning. A threat.
The night no longer belonged to them.