The Tyrant of the North

When Harry spoke, I could still feel the snow from my first death packed around my ribs. In my past life, that same voice had whispered promises to me. Tonight, under the full moon, every wolf in the clearing heard it. "I, Alpha Harry of the Silver Moon Pack, reject Victoria as my mate and my Luna." The pack gasped. Harry pulled a trembling Omega behind him and covered her with his body. Ember. Small, fragile Ember. She clutched the back of his coat and peered up at him through wet lashes. Harry waited. So did the whole pack. Last time, I had sobbed, begged, and clung to a bond he had already broken while demanding an answer. The memory of my blood freezing in my veins came back first. My chest didn't ache. My shoulders loosened. I lifted my chin. "I, Victoria, accept your rejection." The smugness left Harry's face. His brows pinched together. Tears were what he had prepared for; my answer left him searching for his next line. "Victoria, don't make a scene." He lowered his voice. "Go back to your chambers. We'll talk later." Rejected before the whole pack, then ordered back to my chambers. He still expected me to obey. "There is nothing to discuss. You rejected me. I accepted. The ritual is all that remains." His face darkened. I held out my right hand, palm up. "Moonlit Blood Blade, come to me." Silver light gathered in my palm and hardened into a moonlit blade, its edge cleaner than mortal steel. For years, Harry had treated the gift of my bloodline as his property. Harry stepped forward. "What are you doing? That isn't necessary." His hand went to the silk ritual pouch at his side. I used to stock it with salves for every nick he took in training. This time his fingers came out empty, and he stared at them. I drew the blade across my palm. The cut opened deep and clean. Silver moved through the blood welling to the surface. I had died slowly in the snow; this was nothing beside it. I held my hand over the ritual stone. Each drop hissed against the ancient granite. "With this blood, I sever the tie. With this breath, I break the bond. What the Moon Goddess joined is now, by mortal choice, undone. So let it be." Something snapped inside me. The weight vanished so fast that the clearing tilted beneath my feet. Harry cried out and stumbled back, both hands clamped over his chest. My blood had reinforced his damaged Alpha spirit for years. Severing the bond ripped that support away. The blade dissolved into moonlight. I turned away. Beyond the shocked faces, one man stayed silent. Jeffrey leaned against an ancient oak at the edge of the clearing. He was the Alpha of the Shadow Pack, the Tyrant of the North. Harry looked like a pup beside him. Jeffrey watched me, his expression still. His dark eyes followed every step I took. I found interest there, but no pity. I walked towards him. The crowd shuffled aside without a word. Harry's stare stayed between my shoulders all the way from the ritual stone. I stopped in front of Jeffrey and met his gaze. "Alpha Jeffrey. They say you carry a soul-wound no healer can touch." One eyebrow shifted. "They say many things about me." "I can heal it. My blood can purge the darkness. In return, I want sanctuary in your pack." He studied me until the whispers started again. Then he smiled. "Sanctuary is a small price for a miracle, little healer." He pushed away from the tree and held out his hand. He waited for me to take it. I placed my bloody palm in his. His grip was firm, his skin warm. As we turned, I looked over my shoulder once. Harry's jaw was locked. His hand remained pressed to his chest, and his eyes darted toward the ritual stone. He forced a smirk. "Let her go! She'll come crawling back by sunrise. She's nothing without me." A few members of his pack murmured agreement, though none of them met my eyes. I kept walking. At the boundary, the air around the clearing rippled. Far inside the Silver Moon lands, the great Sacred Tree flickered. My blood had fed that tree, and the pack's barrier, every week. The glow pulsed once. Then its light dimmed.