Daylight Oath (Alexa’s POV)
1271 Words
“Do you feel it too?”
His voice was a low murmur against my ear, roughened by restraint, threaded with something that trembled just beneath control.
“I… I feel everything,” I whispered back, my fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as though the world itself might fall apart if I let go.
Sunlight poured through the towering arched windows, drenching the chamber in molten gold. The room still hummed with ancient power, as if the walls themselves remembered what had just taken place. The ceremonial markings burned faintly against my skin, no longer painful—just alive, like they had become part of my blood.
Zyrus stood before me, impossibly tall, impossibly commanding, the crown of the thirteen packs resting on his dark hair like destiny itself. His expression was unreadable. It always was.
Yet something had changed.
Something inside me had shifted.
A soft ache pulsed low in my chest, not pain, not pleasure—something deeper. Older. Like an echo from a forgotten age awakening beneath my ribs.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured.
“I don’t know why,” I confessed. “It feels like… something just opened inside me.”
His jaw tightened.
For a moment, just a breath, a shadow flickered through his eyes.
Then it was gone.
“Rest,” he ordered gently. “The bond draws heavily on your strength. You need to recover.”
That word.
Bond.
It echoed louder than thunder.
Because what we had just done wasn’t ordinary. Even the healers had gone silent as the final ceremonial words were spoken under the sun. Elders whispered. Warriors bowed deeper than ever. The palace itself seemed to bow.
Daylight bonding.
Forbidden.
Rare.
Prophetic.
Yet no one had explained why.
And the silence surrounding it made my skin crawl.
As attendants entered to help dress me in ceremonial silks, I caught my reflection in a polished obsidian mirror.
I barely recognized myself.
My eyes looked brighter. Sharper. Like starlight had been woven into my pupils. My skin glowed faintly, not from oil or powder—but from within. Even my heartbeat felt louder, heavier, as if every pulse carried power instead of blood.
Something ancient had stirred.
And I was afraid.
The palace erupted in motion the moment we stepped beyond the chamber. Nobles knelt. Warriors slammed fists to chests. Omegas lowered their gazes. Whispers followed in rippling waves.
“Daylight bonding…”
“Impossible…”
“Prophecy…”
“Hush!”
Zyrus’s hand remained firm at my lower back, a silent command to stand tall.
I lifted my chin.
If they were going to whisper, they would do it while I wore my crown proudly.
Yet unease coiled in my stomach.
The Grand Hall awaited.
So did Margaux.
The doors parted.
She stood near the healer’s dais, pale, trembling, her fingers clenched against her abdomen. Her eyes locked onto Zyrus with practiced fragility.
And suddenly—
She collapsed.
Gasps shattered the hall.
“Margaux!”
Zyrus stiffened.
Every muscle in his body went rigid, torn between instinct and duty.
My heart plummeted.
Healers surged forward, lifting her, voices overlapping in urgent murmurs.
“Her pulse—”
“She’s burning up—”
“The pregnancy—”
Pregnancy.
The word sliced through me.
Zyrus’s jaw clenched. His hand slid from my back.
Just for a second.
Just long enough.
But it felt like abandonment all over again.
“I’ll handle this,” he told the healers sharply. Then, turning to me, his voice softened. “Wait here.”
The word tasted bitter.
But I nodded.
Because I was Luna.
Because I was supposed to be strong.
Because loving him meant enduring this.
He left with them.
And I stood alone before an entire court that suddenly remembered how to breathe again.
The whispers grew.
“She collapses right after the bond…”
“Convenient.”
“The concubine carries an heir.”
“And the Luna carries what? Silence?”
I held my head high.
But every word landed like a bruise.
Hours passed.
When Zyrus returned, his aura was darker. Stormier.
“She’s stable,” he said quietly. “The healers insist stress triggered it. She’ll recover.”
I searched his face.
“Was the baby in danger?”
A flicker.
Just one.
“No.”
Relief shouldn’t have hurt.
But it did.
That night, sleep refused to claim me.
Every time I closed my eyes, strange images flooded my mind.
Blood pooling beneath silver moons.
A white wolf howling beneath burning skies.
Thirteen crowns falling at my feet.
I gasped awake, heart racing, breath ragged.
The room felt… charged.
Like invisible threads hummed through the air.
Something inside me stirred, restless.
I rose, padding barefoot across the marble floor toward the balcony. The moon had begun its descent, the horizon blushing with early dawn.
And that’s when I heard it.
A whisper.
Not from the air.
From within.
Awaken.
My breath hitched.
“I’m dreaming,” I whispered.
But the word came again.
Soon.
A shiver crawled down my spine.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
Zyrus.
He stood in the doorway, watching me with an intensity that made my pulse stutter.
“You should be asleep,” he said.
“So should you.”
Silence.
The space between us pulsed with unsaid truths.
“Something is happening to me,” I said softly.
His hands clenched.
“I know.”
“You know?” My heart pounded. “Then tell me.”
He stepped closer, stopping just inches away.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not ready.”
The words cut.
“When will I be?”
His gaze softened, just barely.
“When the moon commands it.”
Days followed in a blur.
The palace transformed into a pressure chamber.
Nobles questioned my authority.
Elders whispered prophecy.
Warriors studied me with reverence and fear.
And Margaux—
Margaux grew bolder.
She recovered quickly. Too quickly.
Her weakness vanished, replaced by fragility wrapped in manipulation. She clung to Zyrus in public, her hand always resting over her stomach, her eyes always full of carefully measured tears.
Every time I approached him, she faltered.
Every time I reached for him, she needed him.
Zyrus warned her.
I heard it myself.
“Cross her again,” he growled, his voice lethal, “and I will remind you exactly what your place is.”
She bowed.
She wept.
She promised.
And the moment he turned away—
She smiled.
That night, my first vision struck.
I was standing in a field of bones.
Blood dripped from a moon the size of a mountain.
A white wolf stood before me, eyes burning like twin stars.
When I reached out—
I screamed awake.
Healers were summoned.
They examined me, murmuring urgently.
Their faces blanched.
“This isn’t illness,” one whispered.
“This is awakening,” another breathed.
Zyrus went rigid.
“What kind?” he demanded.
They exchanged terrified glances.
“Something ancient.”
Two days later—
They confirmed my pregnancy.
The room spun.
Zyrus said nothing.
But his fists shook.
Margaux overheard.
And everything changed.
Because obsession is far deadlier than hatred.
And as the eighth full moon began its slow ascent—
I felt destiny breathing down my neck.
And in the quiet darkness, a voice whispered again—
They will try to break you.
Let them.
You were born to end them.
My breath trembled as footsteps approached.
“Alexa,” Zyrus said quietly from the doorway, his tone strained, fractured, and dangerously restrained, “we need to talk.”
- Writer
