Chapter 3 The Bond That Shouldn't Be

--- **Chapter Three**

**The Bond That Shouldn't Be**

*"The moon chooses without apology. The heart only learns to obey."* > -Lycan Proverb, House of the Broken Sky

--- He was dreaming again. The battlefield was never quiet in his dreams. Ash fell like snow, coating his armor, turning blood to rust beneath his boots. Around him, the bodies of wolves lay sprawled in their war forms-eyes vacant, jaws open in silent screams. The trees bled. The river steamed red. And somewhere behind it all, the moon watched, full and weeping, like a mother who could not save her children. In the middle of it stood a girl. One wore a crown of white flame and called his name like a battle cry. The other was bare-footed and bleeding, but when she looked at him-everything else went still. Two wolves. Two marks. Only one truth. --- Kael Thorne, Lycan King of the High Bloodline, awoke drenched in sweat, the scar beneath his ribs aching like it hadn't in years. He sat up slowly, resting his forearms on his knees as moonlight poured through the open balcony above his chambers. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers, casting a soft glow over the black stone walls and silver-woven tapestries. It had been the third time this week. The third time he'd dreamed of her-the second girl. Not the one the priests had praised since childhood. Not the one bred for queenship, prophecy, or power. The other one. The unknown. --- Kael rose and crossed the room silently. His beast stirred beneath his skin, restless. Unsettled. Not angry-but... *searching.* It had been like this for weeks. Since the first rumble of the blood moon was felt in the earth. The bond was near. Close enough that the air itself vibrated with its scent. And yet, something about it felt off-as though the thread had frayed at the edges. The path forward, once so certain, had become fog. He had always believed in fate. He'd been raised with scrolls of prophecy, trained by priests who quoted the sacred lines of the Moonmother. The Red Wolf would return under the blood moon. She would be crowned by the King. The union would unite the five fractured bloodlines. He'd memorized every word. Every line. Every name-including hers: Seraphina, daughter of the Crescent Alpha. She bore the full mark of the red wolf. She was everything he was told to wait for. So why, then, did every part of him ache for someone else? --- By dawn, he could bear it no longer. He summoned no guards. No advisers. Not even Calev, his blood-brother and closest friend. He saddled *Eiran*, his wolf-steed, and rode for the Eastern border, where the Crescent Pack's territory stretched like a sleeping beast beyond the frost-veiled ridges. The wind howled around him, but he rode like something hunted him-driven not by instinct, but by something older. By the time he reached the edge of the Crescent Pines, the sun had dipped behind clouds and dusk curled low around the trees. He dismounted in silence and began to walk. His wolf's senses sharpened. Then-he felt it. *Her.* Not a scent, at first. Not a sound. Just a **pull.** As if someone had wrapped a thread of starlight around his ribs and was slowly reeling him forward. His steps slowed. A shimmer on the ground caught his eye. The **Moonstone Path**. It had only ever been a myth. A trail of dust left by the Moonmother herself-visible only to those chosen by fate. The elders said it would lead to the one the moon had marked as divine. Kael exhaled and stepped onto the path. The ground shimmered beneath his boots, and every tree around him seemed to lean in. The wind quieted. His heartbeat thundered. Then, through the trees-he saw her. --- She knelt by a stream, face turned slightly away, dark hair trailing like ink in the wind. She was not dressed like a princess. No silks. No jewels. Her clothes were plain, worn, dusted in ash. And yet, Kael stopped breathing. His beast, usually raging with fire and fury, fell still. *This is her.* His pulse surged. He stepped forward. The leaves barely rustled beneath his weight. She looked up. Her eyes locked with his. And the **bond snapped** into place. It wasn't soft. It was thunder. Kael staggered beneath the force of it. The scent of her hit him like memory and storm-wildflower, smoke, and rain on stone. His chest ached, every sense overwhelmed. He saw the mark on her shoulder-shaped like a red wolf's head, broken and incomplete. No. Not broken. **Burning.** His voice came out rough. "You..." She backed away, confused. Frightened. "I don't know who you think I am," she said. But Kael knew. The moon had sung her name. And every piece of him-beast and bone-was answering it. "You carry the mark," he said quietly. "And the moon just chose you." --- Before she could reply, the branches behind them snapped. Three Crescent warriors burst into the clearing, blades drawn. Kael's eyes narrowed. Elara froze. "She stole from the healer," one barked. "She's cursed," another spat. They raised their swords. And Kael's wolf **roared**. He stepped between Elara and the blades, eyes flaring with silver flame. "You will lower your weapons." The soldiers hesitated. Then, recognition flickered. "My king..." one of them said. "She's nothing," another muttered. "A girl with a mark. No wolf. She's not-" Kael's voice was ice. "You draw steel on her again, and you'll answer to me in blood." Silence. The soldiers knelt. Kael turned back to Elara. She looked stunned. Pale. "Come," he said. "You're safe now." --- They rode through the dark, wind threading through the trees like a warning. Elara clung to him from behind, arms tentative. He felt every breath she took, every question she didn't ask. By nightfall, they made camp beneath a ridge overlooking the riverlands. The stars had begun to crawl across the sky. The moon was rising-still white, but tinged with pink. A warning. A promise. Elara sat apart, arms wrapped around her knees. Kael knelt by the fire, watching her. "You're quiet," he said. "I'm not supposed to be here," she murmured. He tilted his head. "Where are you supposed to be?" "Dead," she said. "Or forgotten." Kael's jaw clenched. "You helped someone," he said softly. "You stole herbs. For your guardian?" "She's all I have," Elara whispered. "I didn't know who else to go to." "You went alone," he said. "No wolf. No guard. No one beside you." Elara looked at him, eyes shadowed. "No one ever has been." --- He rose slowly and crossed to where she sat. "The mark you bear-do you know what it means?" "I was told it means I'm cursed." "They were wrong," Kael said. "How do you know?" He sat beside her. The fire glowed between them, painting her face in gold and rose. "Because I've seen curses. I've felt them. They twist you inside out. Hollow you. But you..." He paused. "You don't feel hollow. You feel like the end of a long wait." Elara didn't answer. Her fingers traced the edge of her mark. "My wolf never came." "Maybe she wasn't ready," Kael said. "Maybe she never existed." Kael looked at her, steady and true. "She exists. And she's waking up." --- The wind shifted. Elara's eyes fluttered. She gripped her arm, breath catching. Kael moved closer. "What is it?" "I feel..." she whispered, "like something's crawling under my skin. Like a sound I can't hear." He reached out, gently taking her wrist. Her pulse pounded. "Your wolf," he said. "She's knocking." Elara's eyes welled. "I'm afraid." Kael brushed her hair back from her face, voice low. "Then let me stand beside you when she answers." --- They didn't touch again. They didn't speak. But when the moon rose high, casting red light through the branches, Kael felt it. The bond wasn't just forming. It was **claiming**. This was not the union the kingdom expected. It was not the prophecy the priests had prepared for. But it was real. And it was coming. ---