The Moon Hall felt heavier tonight, oppressive in a way that had nothing to do with torches or stone. Every step I took made the threads of the bond pulse like a living thing, raw and unpredictable. Kael, Riven, and Solen followed, their presence pressing into me from all sides, yet none of them close enough to offer comfort.
Astraea stirred beneath my ribs, sharp and insistent. She is near. Lyris is planning something.
I tightened my fists. Let her try.
Kael stumbled, a subtle jerk in his step that set the threads pulsing violently. I felt it instantly—frustration, guilt, fear. His pulse tangled with Riven's tension and Solen's steady, calculated restraint. Pain flared across my chest. My wolf hissed, urging control, focus.
"Kael," I said firmly, stepping closer, "breathe. Anchor your emotions. The bond isn't your enemy—it's ours."
His gray eyes met mine, wide, trembling. "I… I don't know if I can," he admitted, voice tight, uneven. "It hits me too hard. I… I can't hide anything."
"You don't have to hide," I said, voice calm but unwavering. "You just have to respect it. Respect me. The bond doesn't give power to the careless or the fearful."
Riven's shoulders tensed beside him, green eyes flicking to Kael, then to me. "It's… it's like it sees everything," he muttered, voice low. "And there's no way to hide from it."
Solen's dark gaze shifted between us all. "Then we adapt. Or we break."
Before I could respond, the air shifted. Subtle at first—like a whisper of silk brushing against stone—but I felt it instantly. Lyris. She'd stepped into the hall quietly, unseen, using the shadows as her cloak. The bond flared sharply, reacting to her presence, testing us, poking at weaknesses.
Kael staggered, clutching at his chest, face pale. "It's her… she's—"
"Focus!" I snapped, hand shooting out to anchor the threads. Pain lanced through me as the bond resisted, twisting violently. My wolf surged, hissing and coiling around my spine. Astraea guided, steadying me. Control. Do not give her the satisfaction.
I drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Enough," I said, voice sharp. "This bond is mine as much as it is yours. You will respect it. You will respect me."
The threads pulsed, jittering like trapped lightning, and for the first time, Kael didn't flinch. Riven's pulse slowed slightly. Solen's jaw tightened—but he did not resist.
From the shadows, Lyris's faint smirk was visible, sharp as a blade. She let her fingers hover near the air, subtly pushing at the bond again. It was barely perceptible—but the bond reacted, flaring slightly, testing me, taunting me.
I exhaled, anchoring myself, letting the threads settle into rhythm. "I see you," I whispered, glare cutting through the darkness. "One more attempt, Lyris. One more—and I will not just defend myself. You will regret it."
Kael trembled, voice soft. "I… I can't control it like you. I—"
"Yes, you can," I interrupted. "But only if you stop trying to resist and start understanding. The bond doesn't punish weakness—it punishes fear, lies, and disrespect. Feel it, don't fight it, or it will consume you."
Riven swallowed, looking chastened. "She's right… it's not just about power. It's… awareness. Reflection."
Solen finally nodded once, dark eyes sharp. "Then we learn. Or we fail."
The hall was silent except for our breathing and the faint hum of the bond. Kael's pulse had slowed, though his chest still heaved. Riven's tension eased, barely. Solen remained alert but steady, the first time he hadn't been reactive.
Astraea's hum was faint, approving, guiding us silently. They are learning—but do not forget, she watches. She waits.
I stepped back, letting the threads settle completely. For the first time in days, the bond felt… ours. Not just a weapon, not just a test—but a tool, alive and responsive to honesty, control, and respect.
And Lyris? She had retreated, melting into the shadows with a smirk. But I knew better. This was just a taste of what she had planned. One misstep, one crack in control—and she would exploit it.
I clenched my fists, determination coiling in my chest. We survive. We anchor. We adapt. And when she strikes again… we will be ready.
Kael inhaled shakily, looking at me with vulnerability I had rarely seen. "I… I'll try. I'll do better."
"You will," I said firmly, voice unwavering. "But you have to mean it. No hesitation. No fear. The bond will sense it—and it will punish you."
Riven nodded slowly, glancing at Solen, who finally allowed a faint, almost imperceptible nod in agreement.
The Moon Hall remained quiet, tense. But for once, the threads hummed with controlled power instead of chaos. The warning lingered, sharp as a knife. Lyris was out there. Watching. Waiting.
But tonight, at least, the lines had been drawn.
And we—Kael, Riven, Solen, and I—had survived.