The war drums pounded in a steady rhythm, echoing off the valley walls and into the mountain stronghold. They were distant—but not distant enough. Eira returned to the fortress with the dagger wrapped tightly in cloth. The obsidian blade burned against her skin, a constant thrum of energy and memory. She had buried it beneath her cloak, but it still felt as though it pulsed with every beat of her heart.
When she entered the war chamber, Kael and Alara were already waiting—along with the inner circle. Kael's gaze immediately snapped to her.
"Where were you?"
She dropped the bundle onto the stone table. "I found this. It was buried near the glen."
Lucan leaned forward first. When he unwrapped the cloth, his fingers trembled.
"The Dagger of Cindervale."
Alara's eyes widened. "That's a myth."
"No," Lucan said, voice hushed. "It's a relic from the First Pact. This… this was the Flamebound Queen's final weapon. It was said she sealed her soul inside it before the Purge."
Kael looked at Eira. "It called to you?"
She nodded, staring down at the blade. "And it showed me something. A vision. Of destruction. Of conquest."
Lucan's voice was slow. "It shows the bearer what they could become. What they are capable of… if unbound."
A heavy silence fell. Then Alara spoke.
"We have to hide it. That thing could start a war."
"We already have a war," Kael growled.
Eira's hand closed around the cloth. "And maybe this is the only way to end it."
Kael's expression hardened. "Not like that."
Their eyes met—and for a second, Eira wondered if he feared her more than the enemy now.
Lucan broke the tension. "There's another way. A rite of binding."
He unrolled another scroll. "It requires the Alpha's blood. And the bearer's. A Blood Oath, sealed by the moon."
Eira's heart skipped. "What does it do?"
"It binds the dagger to the Alpha's will. If either of you turn, the other dies."
Alara inhaled sharply. "You're not serious."
"I am," Lucan said grimly. "And it's the only way to ensure she doesn't fall to the dagger's call."
Kael stared at Eira. "That would bind us forever."
Eira swallowed. "Would you trust me that much?"
His voice was low. "Would you trust me to kill you… if you turned?"
The weight of his words settled between them. And then she nodded.
"Let's do it."
The ritual took place beneath the Blood Moon—a rare crimson eclipse that bathed the mountaintop in red light. Warriors stood in a wide circle, silent as Kael and Eira stepped into the center.
Lucan began the chant in the old tongue, his voice weaving through the air like smoke. Eira drew the dagger and sliced a thin line across her palm. Kael did the same.
When their blood touched, the dagger flared to life, heat radiating off it like a forge. Lucan's voice rose.
"By the flame and fang, by oath and bond. May the blood of the Alpha guard the Heart."
A surge of power ripped through the stone floor. Both Eira and Kael fell to their knees, the dagger between them, their blood seeping into the mountain.
In that moment, Eira felt it. Kael. Not just his thoughts—but his heart. His pain. His fury. His fear for her.
Kael, too, gasped.
Their bond wasn't just symbolic. It was real.
Lucan's voice fell quiet. The ritual was done. The dagger stopped glowing—but now bore two sigils. One of the Alpha. And one of the Flame.
After the ritual, they stood on the high ledge overlooking the valley. The siege fires of the Shadowclaws now dotted the horizon—burning like red stars.
Kael stood behind her, quiet.
"What happens now?" she asked.
He stepped closer. "Now… we prepare. And pray that dagger stays buried."
She turned to him. "Do you regret it?"
He held her gaze. "No. But I'm scared."
"Of me?"
"Of what the world will do because of you."
Their hands brushed. And despite everything—the fire, the war, the prophecy—something flickered between them that was not power. But hope.
Just as Eira leaned in, a howl split the air. Alara appeared at the edge of the ledge, breathless.
"You need to see this."
They followed her down to the eastern wall, where the Shadowclaws were gathered beneath the white banner. The woman from the fire circle, the Flamebound priestess, stood at the forefront, her eyes fixed intently on Eira.
"Return the heir," she called out, her voice carrying across the valley. "Or the fire spreads."
Kael's growl was low and menacing. "Over my dead body," he snarled, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The priestess smiled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "That can be arranged," she said, her voice dripping with malice.
And behind her, the forest erupted into flames, the trees themselves seeming to ignite with an otherworldly fire. The Shadowclaws cheered, their voices rising to a deafening crescendo.
Eira felt a surge of fear mixed with determination. She knew that she couldn't back down now, not when the fate of the pack and the entire realm hung in the balance.
"I won't go with them," she said, her voice firm. "I'll fight."
Kael's eyes locked onto hers, a fierce pride burning in their depths. "We'll fight together," he said, his voice low and resolute. "As one."
The priestess's smile grew wider, her eyes flashing with excitement. "Then let the battle begin," she said, her voice rising to a crescendo.
And with that, the Shadowclaws charged, their war cries echoing through the valley as the battle for the future began.
Eira stood tall, the dagger at her side, her heart pounding with anticipation. She knew that this would be a fight to the death, and she was ready to give her all.
The flames spread, engulfing the forest and illuminating the darkening sky. The sound of clashing steel and the scent of smoke filled the air, and Eira knew that this was just the beginning of a long and brutal war.
But she was not alone. Kael stood by her side, his sword flashing in the fading light. Together, they would face whatever lay ahead, their bond forged in the fire of battle.
As the Shadowclaws closed in, Eira raised her dagger, its blade shining with a fierce determination. She knew that she would fight to the end, for herself, for Kael, and for the future of the realm.
The battle had begun, and Eira was ready.