Ashes of the Covenant

Selene hadn't slept in two days.

Since drinking from the Well of Blood, her body had changed.

Not visibly—no new scars, no fangs or claws. But something pulsed beneath her skin. Something alive. Something watching.

She hadn't told Varek yet.

He touched her now in ways he never had—more reverent, more possessive—and she couldn't decide whether it was desire or dread in his eyes when he looked at her.

Her scent had changed.

She no longer smelled like moonlight and iron.

She smelled like power.

They returned to Gildren's Hold under heavy storm clouds. The fortress stood like a wound in the land, dark banners fluttering from its towers. As they rode through the gates, dozens of werewolves fell to one knee.

But not all.

In the council chamber, they waited.

Kael, once Selene's mentor, stood at the head of the table. His silver-streaked hair and wolf-hide armor gave him a regal, brutal presence. To his left were four Alphas. To his right, two vampire lords in crimson robes. The air was thick with tension.

Kael's golden eyes locked on Selene.

"You've returned."

She nodded. "The ritual was stopped. Eriseth wounded. The temple sealed."

"Was it?" one of the vampire lords murmured. "Or was she merely awakened... and fed?"

Varek stepped forward, his voice calm but heavy with warning.

"She vanished. She's not dead, but she's weaker. It gives us time."

Kael's gaze turned to Selene. "And what price did we pay for that time?"

She didn't answer.

The council chamber darkened. Not with magic—but with the weight of what they all already knew.

"You drank from the Well of Blood," Kael said flatly.

Murmurs rose across the table. Shock. Anger. Fear.

Selene lifted her chin. "It was the only way."

"It was blasphemy," Kael snapped. "You poisoned the werewolf bloodline with vampiric god-magic. You made yourself... abomination."

"She saved all of you," Varek growled.

Kael's eyes narrowed. "At what cost?"

Selene's fingers tightened on the hilt of her glaive.

Varek stepped in front of her. "She risked her life to stop Eriseth. You can't fault her for what she had to become."

"We can," one of the Alphas spat. "And we must."

A vote was called.

The verdict: Exile.

Selene stood alone in the moonlit courtyard as the guards brought out the Chains of Moonlight—silver shackles forged by the first Alpha to restrain those touched by madness.

Kael held them.

He didn't meet her eyes.

"You were like a daughter to me," he said quietly.

"I'm still me."

"No. You're not."

"I bled for this pack."

"You bled into it."

He reached for her wrists.

Varek appeared beside them, eyes burning. "You're not putting those on her."

Kael's jaw clenched. "If we don't, the others will revolt."

Varek moved between them. "Then let them."

The courtyard trembled.

Selene put a hand on his chest. "No. Let them try."

She took the chains from Kael—and snapped them over her own wrists.

The silver hissed against her skin.

She didn't flinch.

That night, Varek stormed through the war hall.

Vaelira waited for him by the fire, lounging like a queen, sipping blood from a goblet.

"You saw this coming," he growled.

"Of course I did."

"You could've stopped it."

"No, darling. I could've made it worse."

He slammed his fist into the stone wall, cracking it.

"She saved the world. And they want her punished."

"Because they fear what she's becoming. And you should too."

Varek turned to her, eyes feral.

"She's stronger. She can control it."

Vaelira stood, her eyes sharp.

"She's not the same woman you first touched under moonlight, Varek. She's becoming something new. And if you don't learn to love that—you'll lose her."

He turned and left without a word.

Selene's cell was cold, but she didn't feel it.

The silver chains dug into her wrists. Her skin was blistered. She didn't heal.

She welcomed the pain.

Varek entered silently.

She didn't look at him.

"I'm not sorry," she said.

He came to her, knelt, and placed his forehead against her knees. "You shouldn't be."

"I did what I had to. Even if it breaks me."

"It won't."

She finally looked at him.

His eyes were tired. Shadowed. But full of her.

He reached up, broke the chains from her wrists with his bare hands.

She gasped—her blood hissed on the floor.

"You're free," he said.

She looked at him.

"I've never been more chained."

They didn't speak again.

Not with words.

They kissed like war—desperate, bruising, bloody.

Selene tore his shirt open, pressed her lips to the scars on his chest, then his belly, then lower. He moaned as she took him in her mouth, slow and reverent. His hands tangled in her hair, trembling.

He flipped her, growling, and entered her from behind, his body hard and relentless. She cried out, the pain and pleasure blurring. He bit her shoulder as he came, and she clawed at the stone walls, breathless, needing, alive.

They collapsed together on the cell floor.

Nothing mattered but skin and breath.

Later, she lay in his arms.

"Will you leave with me?" she asked.

"Always."

"They'll hunt us."

"Let them."

At dawn, they left Gildren's Hold.

Together.

On the horizon, red lightning cracked the sky.

The war wasn't over.

It was just beginning.

Far away, Eriseth sat in a palace of bone, her new form nearly complete.

She held a goblet filled with Selene's blood.

And smiled.