Awakened by the Alpha's Divorce

CHAPTER FIVE

Amara’s POV

The Witchlands announce themselves before they are seen.

The forest changes first, the trees thinning into twisted silhouettes, their bark pale and etched with symbols that seem to shift when I’m not looking directly at them. The air grows heavier, thick with magic that presses against my skin like a second cloak. It smells of smoke, wild herbs, and rain.

My wolf is silent now but not weak, just watchful.

This place remembers, she finally murmurs. And it will demand a price.

“I have nothing left to give,” I whisper, my heart pounding loudly in my chest as the fear of the unseen almost consumes me.

By the time I reach the edge of the Witchlands, night has fully settled. Lanterns hang from crooked trees and uneven posts, their golden flames swaying despite the absence of wind. Low stone dwellings cluster together ahead, half-hidden by shadow, their windows glowing amber like watchful eyes.

No guards stop me.

That alone terrifies me.

I step forward and the ground thrums beneath my boots.

Then it happens.

Light ignites around me, silver-blue runes flaring to life in a perfect circle. I freeze, breath locking in my chest.

“Don’t move,” a voice says calmly.

Figures rise from the shadows one by one. Women and men cloaked in layered fabrics, charms clinking softly at their throats and wrists. Their eyes gleam with something unsettling.

“Ah,” another voice drawls. “The exiled Luna arrives at last.”

I force my hands to stay loose at my sides. “You were expecting me.”

An older woman steps forward into the light, her hair is white as bone, braided with feathers, beads, and talismans that hum faintly. Her eyes, gods, her eyes are moon-silver, ancient and endless.

“We felt you cross the threshold,” she says. “And before that, we felt you awaken.”

My pulse stutters. “Awaken?”

A ripple of murmurs passes through the witches.

“The Silver Flame,” the woman continues softly. “It hasn’t stirred in centuries.”

“I didn’t come for legends,” I say, taking a careful step back only to feel the runes flare brighter. Heat licks at my skin. “I came for answers.”

“And you came because the Moon marked you,” she replies. “And because your bloodline has reached its breaking point.”

Pain tightens my chest with a sharp, now familiar pain. Kael’s face flashes unbidden through my mind, his rejection, the exile and our bond tearing like flesh.

“I was betrayed,” I say. “I was stripped of everything.”

“No,” she corrects gently. “You were stripped of what bound you.”

The runes brighten.

My skin begins to burn not with pain, but heat, deep and radiant. Silver light coils beneath my flesh, threading through my veins. I gasp, dropping to one knee.

The old witch kneels before me.

“If you wish to survive what is coming,” she says quietly, “you must swear the Blood Oath.”

I look up at her, breath shaking. “What oath?”

Her gaze doesn’t waver. “You will swear to never again kneel to a false Alpha.”

My jaw tightens.

“You will swear that your power belongs to you alone.”

The air hums louder.

“And if the Moon calls you to rise,” she finishes, “you will rise. You will not refuse.”

Silence crashes down around us.

The air holds its breath and so do I.

I think of the gates slamming shut behind me.

I think of Kael turning away.

Of the forest answering when I screamed.

My fear is replaced with anger; I slice my palm with my dagger.

Blood wells, bright and red, dripping onto the glowing runes. The circle flares violently, light surging upward like fire.

“I swear,” I say, my voice steady despite the trembling world, “to never kneel to a false Alpha. I swear my power belongs to me. And if the Moon calls me to rise…”

The circle flares violently.

“I will rise,” I finish. “I swear never to be powerless again.”

Once I said these words, I felt power rushing into me and something within answered. It scares me but I don’t scream.

I arch as power tears through me like lightning, filling every hollow space grief once occupied. Visions flood my mind: wolves wreathed in silver flame, moons eclipsed in bloodlight, a woman standing at the centre of kneeling packs.

Me.

The witches begin to chant, their voices weaving through the pain, anchoring me to this world.

Blood to blood.

Moon to flame.

Exile to sovereign.

When it ended, I fell forward, almost hitting the ground with force but the earth did not feel cold.

Hands catch me. Steady me.

The runes fade, leaving scorched stone beneath my knees. My palm has healed, now marked with a thin crescent scar that glows faintly silver.

The old witch studies me with reverence.

“It’s done,” she says. “The Silver Flame has claimed you.”

I push myself upright, my breath coming slow, controlled and the ache inside me is still there. Kael, the bond and the betrayal but it no longer owns me.

“What am I now?” I ask.

She smiles. “A Luna unbound.”

A tremor ripples through my chest; this time it isn’t pain, but awareness. Somewhere far to the north, something stirs. The mate bond pulses faintly, like a distant echo.

He’s coming, my wolf whispers.

I close my eyes briefly, not because I long for him or a hope to reunite.

“Let him,” I say.

The witch nods, as if she expected that answer. “You will stay here under our guide, you need to train and learn control. Power without mastery destroys its bearer.”

“And when I leave?” I ask.

“When you leave,” she replies, “the world will know your name again.”

I rise to my feet, silver light flickers briefly in my eyes, reflected in the witches’ widened gazes.

I am still Amara.

Still wounded.

Still grieving.

But I am no longer broken.

As the moon climbs higher over the Witchlands, I stand at the threshold of something vast and unforgiving, a destiny I did not choose, but will command.

And far away, an Alpha rides toward the truth, unaware that the woman he cast aside is becoming something he may no longer be able to claim.