THE OATHBREAKER

CHAPTER FOUR

I was fifteen the first time I smelled true death and not the kind from a hunt or a training accident. This was different, sharper, hungrier and it happened on the eve of the Red Moon.

Back then, we were in a temporary camp near the old camp, close to the river’s edge. I remember because Uncle Fen had just brought his mate, Lys, back from a diplomatic run to the Southern Pines Pack. She was quiet and clever, with a laugh that made even my father soften, rare magic in itself.

The night it happened, the air felt wrong. The fire wouldn’t stay lit and the wolves paced restlessly, ears pinned, hackles up. My father said it was the moon, that it made everyone edgy but Calder and I knew better. We’d grown up under moons of every color and shape so we could tell that it was something else.

I was with a stick, tracing lazy circles in the dirt when the howling started and it wasn’t one of ours. The scent hit next and I remember the smell of rotting flowers, burnt hair, and wet iron.

I remember Uncle Fen grabbing my arm, and shoving me behind the old tree stump with an order which was “Don’t move, and don’t make a sound.”

Lys stood in front of him, shoulders squared, hands glowing with the faint shimmer of a protective charm. The air crackled around her, thick with energy while Calder was across the clearing with his father, weapons drawn.

Then they came. Cloaked figures, hooded faces hidden behind bone masks carved with runes that shifted as they moved. There were only five of them, but the way the shadows bent made them feel like more.

They didn’t walk either but gilded and Lys stepped forward, lips forming a chant. One of the cultists raised a hand, and a flash of red light arced through the clearing, slamming into her chest swiftly.

She didn’t scream but instead, collapsed, eyes wide as blood poured from her mouth in thin streams like threads unraveling. Uncle Fen roared and lunged but he didn’t even reach them.

He froze mid-air, body locked in place like something had gripped his spine, and one by one, he began to rise off the ground, limbs twitching, bones cracking under some invisible pressure as eyes met mine for a second, just one but I could never forget the emotion in them, then he fell hard and lifeless.

I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t breathe either as I watched the cultists step over Lys’s body and kneel. One pulled a curved blade and sliced a symbol into her chest, an intricate knot of lines I’d never seen before, not then and not until now.

They whispered in unison, blood magic, a binding which caused the mark to flare with red light, and pulse once. And then the shadows behind them flickered and they vanished.

That was the night they took Rhea.

No smoke, or trace of them remained, just bodies and that symbol. That night, I carved the rune into the back of my mind. I never told anyone I saw it, I never told them what it did because deep down, I knew it wasn’t over.

It never was.

Now, as I stood in Torian Vex’s war tent, that exact symbol stared up at me from the photograph like a curse reawakened. The sigil they carved into his dead scout was the same one they used on Lys.

I gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. “Celeste?” Torian’s voice was calm but sharper now, controlled, too controlled but I didn’t look at him right away.

My mind was still stuck in that clearing, in the sound of Lys’s body hitting the earth. But when I finally turned, the tension between us shifted like a blade twisting mid-air.

“That mark,” I said slowly, “is not just a summoning.” Torian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You said it was a calling,” he said and I shook my head.

“I was wrong, or maybe I didn’t want to believe the truth.” I lifted the photo and held it toward the lantern, the lines of the rune glowing faintly under the flicker of light. “It’s not just calling something, it’s anchoring it here.”

Kael’s expression darkened. “What kind of magic does that?” and I met her eyes. “The kind that feeds on bloodlines.”

Torian’s silence said enough, he was already ahead of the question. “What do they want with you?” he asked.

I laughed, dry and bitter. “To finish what they started. My blood’s been marked since that night and I didn’t realize it until now. They didn’t just attack my family, they also tied something to me.”

Kael stepped forward, alarm in her gaze. “You mean they branded you? You’re—” “I’m the tether,” I cut in, not letting her state the obvious fact and the words felt like a lock breaking open in my chest.

“I’ve been dragging this thing behind me for years and didn’t even know it. That’s why every pack I run to ends up ruined and that's why they keep finding me, I’m the damn doorway.”

Torian ran a hand down his jaw, calculating. “Then we use that to our advantage.” I blinked in surprise at his unexpected reaction. “You want to bait them? Through me?”

“You were already bait the moment you crossed my border. Now we use it to trap them before they reach any more of my people.”

Kael looked unconvinced just like I was, but she didn’t speak.

I shook my head at how absurd that sounded. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”, “I don’t need to understand it,” he countered coldly. “I just need to end it.”

“No.” I took a step toward him. “You need to listen because this isn’t just a cult or some rogue faction. This is older than any pack law, probably older than the moon itself and if they’re active again, it means they’ve found a host.”

Torian’s eyes narrowed. “A host?”I nodded, stepping forward. “Someone strong enough to carry the Binding, someone to lead them through.”

He paused in realization. “A new High Blood.”

“Yes.”

“And who would be foolish enough to take that power willingly?” He asked but I hesitated before saying the name. “Rhea.”

And the silence fell like a ton of bricks as Kael looked between us. “Who’s Rhea?”

“My cousin,” I whispered. “Nightmoor’s new heir, she’s the reason I was branded a traitor in the first place.” Torian’s voice dropped to a near growl. “You think she’s leading them?”

“I think she was born to,” I said. “She never wanted to follow the pack, she wanted to command something bigger, something ancient, and if she’s accepted the binding…”

A chill passed through me as I thought about it. “Then she’s not Rhea anymore.” Torian turned toward the tent’s opening, urgency rippling through his stance. He barked orders to Kael in a low voice, too fast for me to catch everything about defenses and mobilization.

I followed him out, ignoring the scream of pain in my ribs and the camp was tense outside. The scouts who had returned stood stiff and pale, their eyes darting toward the woods. The body had been moved, but the mark on the ground still pulsed faintly.

It hadn’t faded and I felt compelled to step closer so I did and let my hand hover over the sigil. “Don’t,” Torian warned but it was too late as the ground vibrated beneath my feet.

And then I heard it, a voice, not aloud, but inside me like a whisper made of teeth. “We see you, Celeste.” The voice said and my breath hitched then the mark on the ground flared and burst into flame.