Draven.
I stood on the sacred dais, the Bonding Stone beneath our feet—an enormous slab of moon-blessed granite carved with runes.
Valtira faced me, her hands warm in mine. The night breeze toyed with her hair, lifting a few loose strands around her face, and for a moment, everything else fell away.
The crowd, the noise, the weight of politics and rivalry—none of it mattered. There was only her, standing before me, steady and unbroken.
The priest stood between us, his voice rose steady and resonant, carrying over the hush of the crowd.
“Under the gaze of the Moon Goddess, in the presence of pack and ancestors, we gather to bind two souls as one. Alpha Draven of the Shadowridge Pack, and Valtira, once of Fangrend, now of our blood. By choice, by blood, by fate—do you come freely?”
We
