The fortress was alive with preparation.
Every torch, every stone, every rune glimmered with a purpose I had never witnessed before. Guards drilled with silent precision, wolves padded through corridors with a new intensity, and even the air itself seemed heavier—laden with expectation, power, and the electric hum of something ancient awakening.
Ronan led me through the corridors, hand firmly but gently brushing my back. The bond pulsed stronger than ever, steadying me as anxiety threatened to uncoil within.
"Are you ready for this?" he asked, voice quiet, yet firm.
I paused at the grand doors of the ritual chamber, my fingers brushing the ornate carvings etched deep into the wood. Gold inlays caught the torchlight, glowing faintly as if anticipating the energy that would flow through the room.
"I don't know if anyone is ever ready for something like this," I admitted.
"Then you will be," he replied, his golden eyes unwavering. "It is not about readiness—it is about will. Yours and theirs."
I nodded, swallowing hard. The triplets stirred within me, faint, rhythmic pulses echoing against the bond. My wolf growled softly, sensing the ritual's energy long before I did.
Inside, the chamber was enormous. The floor was etched with the Triplicate sigil—the three intertwined crescents that represented the prophecy's power. Torches lined the walls, but the real illumination came from the runes carved into the ceiling, pulsating in response to the life force the chamber sensed.
Ronan turned to the gathered council, his posture regal and commanding. "All are present. Begin the rites."
The elders approached, carrying ceremonial staves and ancient scrolls. Lyra stepped beside me, her presence steady and reassuring. I was no longer a hidden figure. I was the one at the center—the mother of the prophecy.
I closed my eyes and focused inward. Three hearts beat within me—my children, pulsing in rhythm with my own. Their bond with me was raw, undeniable, and powerful. The energy coursing through me wasn't just mine anymore. It belonged to them as much as it did to Ronan.
"Focus on the bond," Ronan whispered. "Let it guide the energy."
I obeyed. The warmth that had always been confined to my core expanded outward, reaching toward Ronan, toward the sigils, toward the chamber itself. Light shimmered around me, faint at first, then brighter, more potent.
The council murmured, impressed despite themselves. Even the most hardened elders could not hide their awe.
"Feel them," Ronan's voice urged softly. "Your strength is theirs. And theirs is yours."
I took a deep breath and extended the energy outward, toward the Triplicate sigil on the floor. The runes flared as my bond connected with the prophecy, vibrating with life. My pulse quickened as the energy fed back into me, the connection to Ronan amplifying every heartbeat.
And then—movement.
I froze.
From the shadows of the chamber, a figure shifted—too subtle for most eyes, but not mine. My wolf growled low, muscles tensing instinctively.
Lyra's gaze flicked toward the same corner. "Not everyone here is loyal," she whispered.
Ronan stiffened beside me, eyes narrowing. "You'll reveal yourself."
The figure hesitated. The faint shimmer of magic clung to him, masking intent—but not for long.
I pushed the energy outward in a controlled wave, sensing the presence before it revealed itself. A young guard, one of the newer recruits, stumbled backward as the bond brushed against him. The glamour fell, and the truth was clear: he was aligned with the Purge, sent to disrupt the ritual.
Ronan moved instantly, his hand catching the traitor by the collar. "You will speak," he commanded, voice low and lethal.
"I… I was ordered," the guard stammered. "They said—"
"They said nothing," Ronan interrupted, eyes blazing. "Your loyalty is to this fortress. To her. To me."
I stepped forward, energy still radiating from me. "Leave," I said, my voice firmer than I expected. "And take your orders with you. You're no longer part of this."
The guard's eyes widened. The bond pulsed through him—not in threat, but in control. Something deep and ancient anchored him where he stood. Finally, trembling, he fled through the chamber doors.
Ronan exhaled, eyes still on me. "Good. That was the first test."
I blinked. "A test?"
"Yes," he said simply. "If you cannot protect your power, the prophecy cannot survive. If you cannot command it, your enemies will control it for you."
I swallowed, heart pounding, sweat prickling my skin. The weight of responsibility settled heavier than I expected. The triplets stirred again, three distinct pulses of life and energy, reminding me that the prophecy was not abstract. It was real.
The ritual continued, the energy weaving through the sigils, binding the prophecy to the fortress and to the bond I shared with Ronan and the children. Light flared, then softened, glowing steady and warm, as if the castle itself acknowledged our claim.
Finally, the elders stepped back, bowing in recognition. "It is done," Kael said gravely. "The Triplicate Bond is active. The prophecy has accepted her."
Ronan turned to me, his expression unreadable, but his golden eyes softened in that rare way he reserved for private moments. "You did it," he said quietly. "Together."
I felt a mixture of pride, fear, and relief. My hands rested over my abdomen, feeling the triplets pulse in time with my own heartbeat. They had participated in this claim just as much as I had.
But even as the light dimmed, even as the council acknowledged the bond, I could feel it—the stirring in the fortress shadows. The Purge would not wait.
I swallowed. "This… this won't stop them, will it?"
"No," Ronan admitted. "But it makes them cautious. And we have time to prepare."
I glanced around the chamber, energy still thrumming beneath my skin, and realized something important. I was no longer hiding. I was no longer powerless. And the triplets—my children—were part of something far greater than any of us.
Ronan's hand brushed mine, fingers curling over mine with quiet assurance. "You're ready," he said. "And so are they."
The fortress pulsed with life around us, and I knew he was right. The claim ritual was complete. The bond was stronger. The prophecy had begun.
But one truth remained unspoken, lurking in the corners of my mind:
Someone within these walls was still watching.
Waiting.
And the Purge had only just begun.