Chapter 24: A Pact in Shadows
1336 Words
Abigail’s POV
The wind whispered through the ruins of Black Hollow like a ghost clinging to forgotten memories. I stood at the edge of the scorched circle where the Guardians had fallen, Moondrinker still pulsing faintly against my back, its presence like a second heartbeat.
Elara moved beside me, her hands still glowing faintly from the last of the healing spells. Ivy rested under a canopy of shadowed trees, her wounds closed, but her body still weak. Ronan stood watch at the perimeter, every inch of him tense. He hadn’t left Ivy’s side since the battle.
The weight of what had happened, the magic I had unleashed, the spirit I had touched, it all pressed heavily on my chest.
“We bought ourselves time,” Elara said, breaking the silence. “But not much.”
“How long before Gideon notices?” I asked.
“Hard to say,” she replied. “But the Moondrinker’s energy sent a flare through the aether. If he didn’t feel it, the Hollow King certainly did.”
I turned to her. “You’ve mentioned him twice now. The Hollow King. Who is he?”
Elara’s gaze flicked toward the deeper woods, as though saying the name aloud might summon him.
“Not who. What?” she corrected. “He’s not of our realm anymore. Not entirely. Some say he was a High Alpha corrupted by void magic. Others whisper he’s a manifestation of the pack spirits gone mad.”
“So… a myth?” I raised a brow.
“Would you have believed the Celestial Huntress was more than a story a month ago?”
Fair point.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I let my gaze travel to where Lucian was crouched by the fire with Orion, laying out the crude maps we’d stolen from the Blackfang archives. His dark hair was wind-tossed, his clothes torn and bloodied from the fight, but the way he moved with control, with power, reminded me why he was still standing beside me when others had walked away.
I strode over.
“They’re regrouping,” Orion said before I could ask. “Victor’s death won’t slow the Bloodfang loyalists. Gideon will twist it to his advantage. Claim he died a martyr.”
Lucian looked up at me. “We need allies. More than whispers and renegades. We need numbers.”
“There’s someone I want to visit,” I said.
Lucian’s jaw tensed. “Who?”
I glanced toward the northeast toward the Ashspire Mountains.
“Riven Vale.”
A moment passed in silence.
“You trust her?” Orion asked skeptically.
“No,” I said. “But I don’t need to trust her. I need her to hate Gideon more than she hates me.”
Two Days Later
The climb to Ashspire was brutal.
Rugged cliffs loomed like jagged teeth, and icy winds howled down the crags with the shriek of banshees. Only Lucian, Elara, and I made the journey; the others remained behind to hold the ruins and tend to the wounded.
We reached the entrance of the Phantom Pack’s old stronghold just before twilight.
Riven met us at the threshold.
She hadn’t changed.
Silver-streaked hair flowed over her shoulders, and her eyes gleamed with the hollow glow of someone who had seen death and survived it barely. The Phantom Pack’s symbol, a crescent claw, was tattooed under her collarbone, stark against her dark skin.
“Well, well,” Riven drawled. “The prodigal she-wolf returns.”
I bowed my head slightly. “I’m not here to beg.”
“Good,” she said, stepping aside. “Because I don’t give charity.”
The interior of Ashspire was carved into the mountainside itself, a series of tunnels and chambers lit by enchanted flame. Strange runes pulsed softly along the walls. Spirits were thick here, I could feel their eyes, their whispers, their judgment.
She led us into a stone chamber where a map of the realm had been etched into the floor, old and worn. A handful of her wolves waited there, rogues, mostly, by the look of them, but hardened and loyal.
Lucian remained silent but close, one hand always near his blade.
“You want something, Abigail?” Riven said as she sat on a low stone throne. “Out with it.”
“We killed Victor,” I began. “But Gideon remains. He’s using Bloodfang’s Curse to manipulate what’s left of Victor’s army. He wants more than territory, he wants dominion over the entire werewolf realm.”
“Join us,” Lucian said plainly.
Riven laughed. “You always were the blunt one, Blackwood.”
But her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“You know what Gideon is,” I pressed. “What he did to the Phantom Pack.”
“He destroyed us,” she said. “Twisted our legends into weapons. My mate died because of him.”
Silence thickened.
“We’re not asking for forgiveness,” I said. “Just the chance to burn the rot out of this land. We need the Phantom rites. The old magic. The ones only your wolves still remember.”
Riven leaned forward. “What makes you think I haven’t already tried?”
“Because you’re still alive,” Elara cut in. “If you’d tried and failed, Gideon would have given you a warning.”
Riven’s expression darkened, but she said nothing.
Then she rose. Slowly. Powerfully.
“You’ll have our rites,” she said. “But not without price.”
I waited.
“You must take the Oath of Shadows.”
My spine stiffened.
“That’s a blood bond,” Elara warned. “It’ll mark Abigail as one of the Phantom-blooded. She’ll be hunted by more than Gideon. She’ll lose her right to claim Luna over any other pack.”
Riven smirked. “Exactly.”
I stepped forward.
“Then I accept.”
The Oath of Shadows
The ceremony took place at midnight.
Riven led us to a cavern deep beneath Ashspire. Black stone shimmered with veins of silver and obsidian, and a pool of still water sat at the center, reflecting nothing. Not the torchlight. Not us.
“Stand in the mirror-pool,” Riven commanded.
I stepped in barefoot. The water was ice cold, but I didn’t flinch.
Riven sliced her palm and let her blood drip into the water.
“Elara,” she said. “Begin the invocation.”
The seer’s voice rose in song, ancient, mournful, and wild.
“By fang and flame, by moon and marrow, She who stands alone shall borrow The fury of the phantom past To rise anew reborn, steadfast.”
The water rippled.
The shadows moved.
And then pain.
My knees buckled. The curse branded itself into my skin, into my spirit. I saw glimpses of the Phantom Pack’s downfall, of the horrors Gideon unleashed.
Of a world that was dying in silence.
When I rose from the water, it hissed around me, boiling.
My eyes burned silver.
And the mark of the Phantom now etched along my collarbone glowed like moonlight.
Riven stepped back. For once, she looked almost reverent.
“The Oath is sealed,” she whispered. “Celestial Huntress, you are now a shadow reborn.”
Back at Camp
Our return was met with unease. Some wolves bowed. Others watched me with wary eyes.
Lucian kept close, his presence anchoring me even as I felt… different. Like something had been awakened.
“You’re stronger,” he said that night as we stood at the edge of camp. “But it cost you.”
“Everything worth it does,” I murmured. “We’re out of time, Lucian. Gideon’s next move will be more than whispers and dark magic.”
He reached out, fingers brushing mine.
“We’ll be ready.”
The stars above shimmered like blades of light in a dark sky.
And somewhere out there, I knew Gideon was watching.
But so was the moon.
So was Selene.
And I would not fall.
Not again.
- Writer
