Chapter 90: Nighty: Oath of Fire

Nighty: Oath of Fire

Ronald's POV

“Mara can’t fight this,” I growled, my voice echoing through the fortress chamber. “You want a trial, then I’ll take her place.”

The Head Elder didn’t even look at me. “You are not the heir, Alpha. The prophecy binds her, not you.”

“I said she…”

“Enough!” His staff slammed against the stone, sparks bursting from the runes. “Only the blood of Silverfang can stand beneath the Blood Moon. You interfere again, and you doom your pack.”

The room pulsed with silence.

Behind me, I could feel Lucas’s hand gripping my shoulder, a silent warning. Don’t do it. Don’t give them a reason to strike.

But my wolf was clawing inside me, pacing, snarling. Every instinct screamed to protect her.

Mara stood in the circle, her blade steady, eyes locked on the masked General waiting across from her.

Her breath was slow, calm, too calm. She looked like she’d already made peace with dying.

I couldn’t breathe.

I stepped forward anyway, ignoring the guards bracing their spears. “She doesn’t have to prove anything. You want the prophecy answered? You’ll get it, from me.”

Mara turned her head sharply. “Ronald.” Her voice stopped me cold.

She shook her head once, a quiet plea in her eyes. “Don’t.”

“Mara..”

“This is mine,” she said, her voice low, steady. “I have to end it.”

My throat tightened. “You’ll die if you go in there.”

Her lips curved into something between a smile and a grimace. “Then you’ll have to keep your promise.”

“What promise?”

She stepped closer, so close I could see the streak of dried blood along her cheek. “If I fall,” she whispered, her hand finding mine, “burn them all.”

Her touch was warm, alive and real, it terrified me more than anything.

I gripped her hand harder. “Don’t say that.”

Her eyes softened. “You said you’d burn the world for me. I’m just asking you to keep your word.”

The words hit harder than any blade. My chest ached, my pulse hammering. “I’d rather die with you than live after,” I said quietly.

She didn’t answer. Just held my gaze for one last heartbeat before stepping back into the circle.

The crowd began to chant again, low, rhythmic, like a funeral drum, blood moon. Lucas moved beside me, jaw tight. “She’s going to face him alone?”

“She’s not alone,” I muttered. “Not while I breathe.”

But my voice sounded hollow, even to me.

Because the truth was, I couldn’t cross that line. The runes glowed bright around the circle, humming with ancient power. The moment I stepped in, they’d burn us both alive.

The Head Elder’s voice boomed across the hall.

“The Blood Moon rises! Let prophecy be tested! Let Silverfang’s heir prove her worth!”

The torches dimmed.

Above, the moon bled red across the sky, spilling through the cracks in the ceiling. It painted everything in scarlet, Mara’s hair, her blade, the tears she didn’t let fall.

My hands trembled. My wolf clawed against my ribs, howling inside my head. Mate. Protect her. Protect her!

But I couldn’t move.

All I could do was watch.

The drums began to thunder, slow at first, then faster. The General raised his sword, the edge glinting like ice under bloodlight.

Mara lifted her own blade, the Silverfang steel pulsing faintly in her grip.

Her voice cut through the silence. “For every life you took,” she said, her tone shaking the air, “for every lie you buried, I’ll make you remember.”

The Head Elder lowered his staff. “Let the trial begin.”

The drums roared.

Steel clashed.

Mara lunged first, fast and fierce. Sparks burst where their blades met, ringing through the chamber like thunder. She moved with the kind of rage that didn’t come from anger, it came from memory.

The General blocked, countered, swung wide. She ducked, rolled, and came up again. The crowd gasped when her blade scraped his armor, silver meeting steel.

I stood frozen, every strike cutting through me like it was my own flesh.

Lucas muttered beside me, “She’s good. But he’s…”

“I know,” I cut in.

The General was too fast, too strong. His strikes landed heavier, each one echoing across the stone floor. Mara staggered once, then again, but refused to fall.

“Come on,” I breathed, fists clenched. “Come on, love. You’ve survived worse.”

She parried, twisted, kicked his knee. The General stumbled, but recovered instantly, spinning with a brutal swing that sent her blade clattering from her hand.

“No!” I roared, but the runes flared, forcing me back with searing heat.

Mara dropped to her knees, blood streaking her arm. The General’s sword hovered above her chest.

“Silverfang ends tonight,” he said.

And then her eyes lifted, bright, defiant, burning silver.

She caught his wrist mid-swing, her other hand glowing as the Silverfang blade her blade, rose from the ground and flew back into her grip like it had chosen her.

The crowd gasped. Even the Head Elder stepped back.

The prophecy’s mark burned on her skin, wild and alive.

“Mara…” I whispered, my voice cracking.

She turned her head slightly, met my eyes across the distance. The bond flared between us, hot, unbreakable.

Then she said it again, louder this time. “If I fall, burn them all.”

And before I could answer, she launched herself forward, blades colliding again in a storm of sparks and blood as the Blood Moon reached its peak.

The arena shook. The drums stopped.

The trial had truly begun.