Chapter 1- The Binding Hour
1296 Words
Margo woke to silence.
Not the soft kind that cradled sleep, but the brittle kind that followed decisions made behind closed doors. The kind that settled over the Devereux estate like ash.
Her bedroom smelled of lavender and old magic. The ceremonial dress hung from the armoire, black silk threaded with silver runes that pulsed faintly in the morning light. Her mother had laid it out without a word. No breakfast. No birthday wishes. Just expectation.
She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers curled around the pendant at her throat. The fang was warm again. It hadn’t pulsed since the night she found it in the garden—since the whisper of the Accord began to unravel everything she thought she knew.
Today, she would meet him.
The heir.
The boy promised to her in a contract older than her voice. She didn’t know his name. Only that he belonged to the Castillo pack. Only that he, too, had been kept in the dark.
She hated the idea of him. Not for who he was, but for what he represented. A legacy stitched into her skin without consent. A future carved by people who mistook silence for obedience.
A knock at the door.
Her mother entered without waiting. “It’s time.”
Margo stood slowly, spine straight, heart armored. “Do I get a choice?”
Her mother didn’t answer. She never did.
---
The ritual hall was colder than usual. Candles lined the walls, their flames flickering in unnatural rhythm. The binding table stood at the center, carved from obsidian and etched with the Eclipse sigil—a crescent moon split by a wolf’s fang.
Margo took her place at one end. Her parents flanked her like statues. The coven elders watched in silence.
Then the doors opened.
He stepped in—tall, broad-shouldered, eyes scanning the room like he expected a trap. His suit was formal, but his posture was feral. He looked like someone who’d been summoned, not invited.
Daniel Castillo.
Their eyes met.
He stopped walking.
She didn’t blink.
The High Matron spoke. “The heirs of Devereux and Castillo stand before the Accord. Let the binding begin.”
Daniel turned to his father. “You didn’t tell me.”
His father’s voice was steel. “You weren’t ready.”
Margo’s voice cut through the room. “Neither was I.”
Daniel looked at her again—really looked. Not like a groom. Like a stranger caught in the same snare.
“I don’t want this,” he said.
“Good,” Margo replied. “Then we’re already in agreement.”
The parchment on the table shimmered, waiting for blood.
The Matron frowned. “Refusal breaks the Accord.”
Margo stepped forward. “Then let it break.”
Daniel followed. “Let it burn.”
The candles flared. The sigil cracked.
And somewhere deep beneath the estate, the wards began to tremble.
The silence that followed wasn’t relief. It was recoil.
The High Matron’s eyes narrowed, her voice low and sharp. “You’ve made a grave mistake.”
Margo didn’t flinch. “No. I made a choice.”
Daniel stood beside her, fists clenched, jaw tight. The parchment on the obsidian table had curled in on itself, edges singed by the refusal. The runes flickered, then died.
Her father stepped forward. “You don’t understand the cost.”
Margo turned to him slowly. “Then explain it. For once.”
He hesitated. Her mother didn’t.
“The Accord isn’t just a binding—it’s protection. Without it, the Eclipse factions will fracture. The old alliances will fall.”
Margo’s voice was steady. “Then let them fall. If they were built on silence and sacrifice, they deserve to.”
Daniel’s father growled low in his throat. “You think this is about you? About your feelings?”
Margo stepped between them. “It’s about legacy. And I refuse to inherit one that devours its heirs.”
The Matron raised her hand. The room trembled. “Enough.”
The candles extinguished in unison.
The sigil on the floor cracked wider.
And beneath the obsidian table, something ancient stirred.
---
Later, in the east wing—where the wards were weakest—Margo stood alone, staring out at the storm gathering over the cliffs. The pendant at her throat pulsed again, stronger this time. Not just warm. Alive.
Daniel found her there.
“They’ll come for us,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
He leaned against the stone wall, eyes on the horizon. “I didn’t expect you to say no.”
She glanced at him. “I didn’t expect you to mean it.”
A beat passed.
Then he asked, “What now?”
Margo’s fingers tightened around the fang. “We rewrite the Accord.”
Daniel looked at her, something fierce flickering behind his exhaustion. “Together?”
She nodded. “Together.”
The ritual hall emptied slowly, like a wound bleeding out.
The elders left first, their robes trailing ash and silence. Daniel’s father lingered, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something between fury and fear. He didn’t speak to his son. Just turned and walked out, the door slamming behind him like a verdict.
Margo stayed.
She stood at the edge of the cracked sigil, watching the silver ink fade into the obsidian floor. Her pendant pulsed once, then stilled. The silence was louder now—not brittle, but charged. Like the air before lightning.
Her parents remained by the binding table, unmoving.
“You’ve jeopardized everything,” her father said finally.
Margo turned to him, voice low. “You mean I didn’t obey.”
Her mother stepped forward, face pale but composed. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”
“Then tell me,” Margo snapped. “Tell me why you sold me off like a bargaining chip.”
Her mother flinched. Her father didn’t.
“The Accord was forged to protect us,” he said. “To keep the coven safe. To keep you safe.”
Margo’s laugh was sharp. “Safe from what? Choice? Autonomy? Myself?”
Her mother’s voice cracked. “From the forest.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
Her father’s gaze darkened. “The Eclipse Accord isn’t just political. It’s magical. It holds the wards in place. Without it, the forest opens.”
Margo stepped closer. “And what happens when it does?”
Her mother whispered, “The old magic returns.”
The pendant at her throat pulsed again—hot, insistent.
Margo looked down at the cracked sigil, then back at her parents.
“Then maybe it should.”
---
Later, in the east wing, Margo stood at the window, watching the storm gather over the treeline. The wind howled low, threading through the cracks in the warded glass. Her fingers traced the pendant, now glowing faintly.
Daniel appeared in the doorway.
“They’re panicking,” he said.
She didn’t turn. “Good.”
He stepped into the room, hesitant. “I didn’t expect you to fight.”
She glanced at him. “I didn’t expect you to stand beside me.”
A beat passed.
“They’ll come for us,” he said.
“I know.”
He leaned against the wall, eyes on the horizon. “What happens now?”
Margo’s voice was quiet, but certain. “We find out what they’ve been hiding. And we decide what to do with it.”
Daniel nodded slowly. “Together?”
She looked at him—really looked. The boy who’d been promised to her like a gift wrapped in chains. The heir hadn’t asked for her, but hadn’t walked away.
“Together,” she said.
Outside, the wind shifted.
And deep in the forest, something ancient stirred.
- Writer
