Chapter 6 – The First Broken Pattern
1538 Words
By the time the sun slid toward the treetops, my nerves were shot.
The ritual platform in the temple courtyard gleamed with fresh polish, every stone scrubbed until it reflected the lantern light. Wolves gathered in a wide crescent around it, murmuring in low, reverent voices. Above us, the Moon’s pale face was just beginning to rise, smudged by thin clouds.
This was supposed to be the night the Moon “blessed” my bond and my future as Beta.
In my first life, it had gone perfectly.
This time, I was going to ruin it.
Serapha stood at the center of the platform, white robes catching every flicker of firelight. Silver ink traced patterns across the stones at her feet—spirals and lines that reached toward the edges of the circle like roots.
Ritual marks.
If I squinted, I could see where fresh sigils had been drawn over older, worn grooves.
“Deep breaths,” Mother murmured beside me, fingers smoothing invisible wrinkles from my dark dress. “Smile. The whole pack is watching.”
I could feel them. The weight of a hundred eyes, the mix of pride, curiosity, and thinly veiled gossip. Somewhere in the crowd, Kessa whistled softly when she caught my gaze and mimed straightening a crooked crown. My brother Coren stood stiffly with the younger warriors, jaw tight.
Eryx waited just beyond the steps, in a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, throat bare. No ceremonial collar. Serapha had insisted “we kept it simple” after last night’s debacle.
Alpha Rylan and my father stood together near the front, expressions guarded. Lucien lounged off to one side, hands clasped loosely behind his back, like a man watching an interesting play.
Serapha lifted her hands.
“Wolves of Mistveil,” she called, voice carrying easily. “Tonight we ask the Moon to look kindly upon our future. We bless the bond of our healer and our Beta-to-be. We strengthen our pack’s heart.”
A murmur of approval rolled through the crowd.
“Lyris Greyfang,” she said, turning her gaze to me. “Step forward.”
My feet felt like they were sunk in mud, but I moved. Up the three stone steps, to the center of the circle. The silver ink at my boots tingled faintly, like static.
Don’t show fear, my wolf growled. She’ll drink it.
“Eryx Valemir,” Serapha intoned. “Join her.”
He mounted the steps with sure, easy strides. When he reached me, he took my right hand in his left, fingers warm and steady.
“Just breathe,” he murmured, lips barely moving. “We get through this, then we talk. You know I’d never let anything in this circle harm you.”
You already did, I thought.
Out loud, I said nothing.
Serapha began the opening chant, ancient words rolling off her tongue. Wolves around the circle bowed their heads, some kneeling, some resting hands on the earth.
I’d done this ritual half a dozen times as an assistant. I knew the pattern by heart: invocation, vows, shared cut of palms, mark of blessing drawn on our wrists.
Tonight, somewhere in that pattern, I had to break it.
My pulse hammered. Cold sweat slid down my spine. The air seemed to thicken with incense—sharp, floral, undercut by something metallic.
Serapha’s eyes half-closed, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
“Children of Mistveil,” she said, switching to our own tongue, soft and steady. “Repeat after me. ‘By the Moon’s light, we bind our Beta and healer in service to the pack.’”
The crowd echoed her.
Eryx’s grip on my hand tightened. He waited for me to speak.
I opened my mouth.
“By the Moon’s—” I faltered, words catching.
A few heads lifted. Serapha’s eyes opened.
“Speak clearly, child,” she said, still smiling. “The Moon must hear you.”
My wolf snarled, pacing.
Last time, I’d spoken every line exactly. Last time, I’d let the ritual roll over me like a tide, trusting the current.
This time, I dug in my heels.
“By the Moon’s light,” I said slowly, voice ringing a little too loud, “we bind our healer in service to the pack.”
Eryx’s fingers spasmed around mine.
Serapha’s smile froze.
“And your Beta?” she asked softly.
I lifted my chin. “My service is to the pack,” I said. “Not to any one wolf. Not even a mate.”
A ripple ran through the crowd—gasps, murmurs, someone’s low chuckle quickly smothered.
Rylan’s jaw clenched. My father’s eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful.
Serapha’s fingers flexed at her sides, the slightest crack in her composure.
“Tradition binds you both,” she said. “The pack, the bond, the Moon. None above the others.”
“Then it shouldn’t matter which words I use,” I replied, heart hammering. “If the Moon is listening to my intent.”
Lucien made a soft, amused sound somewhere behind me.
“The Moon hears more than you think,” Serapha murmured. “And less than you hope, if you defy what keeps us strong.”
She shifted into the next phrase of the chant anyway, but I saw it—the smallest adjustment of her stance, the way her toes nudged a sigil just slightly, re-centering the flow.
She was compensating.
Good.
My palm began to tingle, heat prickling along the line where the cut should go. Eryx’s thumb stroked the back of my hand, a silent please don’t.
“Repeat,” Serapha said. “ ‘I give my blood freely, that my bond may be sealed in trust and obedience.’ ”
Trust. Obedience.
The words tasted like ash.
“I give my blood freely,” I said, then paused. “That my bond may be sealed in trust.”
I let the last word hang.
Nothing after. No obedience.
Silence spread out from the platform like ripples.
Serapha’s lips thinned. She stared at me for one long heartbeat, then two.
“Lyris,” she said quietly, “you test the boundaries of sacred words.”
“Maybe they needed testing,” I answered, my voice shaking now. “Maybe they’ve been used to bind more than they should.”
Her gaze sharpened. For a second, the soft, holy mask slipped, and I saw irritation—a flash of cold, hard anger.
It disappeared as quickly as it came.
“Enough,” Rylan said, sounding tired. “We will not insult the Goddess by bickering in her sight. Lyris, finish the vow.”
Every instinct screamed no.
I swallowed. My throat felt tight.
“I can’t,” I said. “Not if obedience means signing away my mind and my father’s safety without question.”
The courtyard exhaled as one. Someone cursed under their breath. Somewhere, a pup whimpered, shushed quickly by a parent.
Serapha’s fingers curled, knuckles whitening.
“If this is about the accords,” she said, silk over steel, “we can calm your doubts later. Right now—”
Lucien stepped forward, cutting her off with a polite little cough.
“Perhaps,” he said, smooth as ever, “the Moon is showing us that your future Beta takes her oaths… very literally. Painfully so.”
His gaze slid to me, amused and sharp. “In my reports, you were described as dutiful, obedient, almost to a fault.”
Something cold crawled down my spine. In my reports.
“So I’ve been misreported,” I said. “Maybe it’s time you updated your files.”
His lips curved. “Oh, I fully intend to.”
Rylan rubbed a hand over his face. “We will not finish this tonight,” he decided. “Break the circle, Serapha.”
Her nostrils flared, but she obeyed. With a flick of her fingers, she traced a final sigil in the air. The silver lines on the stone dimmed, then went dull.
The subtle pressure in my skull eased.
“Dismissed,” Rylan called to the watching wolves. “We will reconvene when our Beta’s head—and heart—are clearer.”
The crowd began to break apart in a flurry of murmurs and sideways glances. I stayed rooted to the spot as Eryx dropped my hand.
His smile was gone.
“What are you doing, Lyris?” he asked quietly, so low only I could hear. “Because whatever game this is, you’re not just playing with me anymore. You’re playing with them.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped down from the platform, shoulders rigid, and disappeared into the swirl of bodies.
Behind me, Serapha’s voice slid over my skin like cold oil.
“You’ve changed,” she murmured. “Since when does my little Beta chew on the hand that has always fed her?”
I didn’t turn.
“Since the hand started tasting like poison,” I said.
Her soft laugh followed me as I stepped down from the stones.
“The Moon sends strange storms,” she said. “Let us hope, Lyris Greyfang, that you do not drown in your own.”
- Writer
