The Blood Oath
776 Words
Morning came with the scent of ash.
Calla woke tangled in a blanket on the floor of Riven’s chambers. Her body ached—not from pain, but from memory. Every nerve hummed with the imprint of what they’d done. Her skin bore faint bruises, her neck ached where his teeth had scraped, and her heart beat a rhythm she couldn’t silence.
Riven wasn’t beside her.
She sat up, pulling the blanket tighter. His scent lingered in the sheets and in her hair, thick and maddening. There was no regret, only fire still smoldering in her blood.
But as she rose to her feet, she felt it again—an undercurrent of something ancient moving inside her.
She was changing.
Not just physically. Power had found its way into her bones, and it whispered now, humming beneath her skin. She could sense the heartbeat of the forest through the window, hear the patter of paws in the distance, the whisper of wolves in the trees.
She was no longer just Calla Ashbourne.
She was something more.
---
She found Riven in the ritual chamber.
The room was a stone circle, lit only by the flicker of blue flame in the wall sconces. Carved wolves lined the perimeter, each baring its teeth in stone silence. At the center stood Riven, shirtless again, tattoos glowing faintly across his back like runes written in fire.
He turned when she entered, his gaze unreadable.
“You came,” he said.
“I always do,” she replied, voice steady.
He studied her. “You’re different.”
“So are you.”
He gave a short nod. “The bond... it’s real now. I feel everything you feel.”
She stepped closer. “Then you know I’m not afraid.”
He didn’t smile. “Good. Because what happens next isn’t something you can run from.”
Rhea appeared at the edge of the chamber, arms crossed. Behind her stood two elders Calla had never seen—one male, one female. Both wore silver chains around their throats and robes dyed in deep crimson.
“It’s time,” Rhea said.
Calla’s brow furrowed. “Time for what?”
“The Blood Oath,” Riven answered. “To bind you to the pack. To protect you from those who would rip you apart. And to show them that you are mine—by law, by bond, by blood.”
Calla hesitated. “And if I refuse?”
The female elder stepped forward. “Then the Council will never recognize you. The rogues will hunt you. And the Moonblood will die with you.”
Her heart pounded.
Riven offered his hand. “You don’t have to do this. But if you want to live… really live… this is the only way.”
Calla looked at his hand, then at her own—still trembling from the fire they’d shared, from the power now etched into her.
She took his hand.
---
The ritual was simple.
They stood in the center of the circle. The elders chanted in a language that felt too old for her ears, every word vibrating in her bones.
Riven sliced a blade across his palm. Blood dripped onto the stone.
Calla did the same.
Their hands clasped. Blood mixed.
A searing pain shot through her chest as the mark on her neck flared bright gold, pulsing with heat and light. Her knees buckled.
Riven caught her.
“Stay with me,” he growled, his voice anchoring her to the world.
She screamed as energy surged through her. Symbols flashed in her mind—moons, wolves, thorns, stars. She saw herself standing atop a mountain, wolves at her feet, the sky torn open above her.
She saw fire. Blood. A prophecy she didn’t yet understand.
Then darkness.
---
When she woke, she was lying in Riven’s bed.
Again.
Only this time, she wasn’t cold. She wasn’t alone.
He lay beside her, one arm draped over her waist, his breath steady against her shoulder.
“You survived,” he murmured.
She turned to face him. “Barely.”
“The Blood Oath isn’t just ceremony. It binds your soul to mine. Our fates are linked now.”
She reached up and touched his face. “Then if I die—”
“I die too,” he finished. “And so does the bond.”
She swallowed hard. “That’s... comforting.”
“It’s dangerous.”
They lay in silence.
Then he whispered, “They’re going to test you now. They’ll want proof you can control what you are.”
“And if I can’t?”
He didn’t answer.
But she already knew.
- Writer
