Chapter 48 The pledge from the west and the east

Chapter 48 The pledge from the west and the east

“I bless this union from this breath till the turning of the final age, the north shall be the sanctuary of the moon, and your bond shall be the anchor of the world.”

Fenris stretched out his hands, shaking, and he held Astraea. As their fingers locked a source of silver and golden energy ran up their arms, weaving together into a permanent glowing cord of light.

The goddess face then shifted, her warmth replaced by a cold celestial fury that made the stones of the pavilion groan. She turned her eyes towards the corner, where Jaxon and Verena cowered.

“Jaxon of the Shadow fang,” the goddess said. The name sounded like a curse.

Jaxon tried to speak, but his throat was squeezed by an invisible hand. He looked up, his face filled with fear.

“I placed the mating bond in the hearts of my children for a sacred reason,” she continued, her voice growing heavy with judgment.

“It was meant to be the ultimate balance. The alpha provides the strength. The mate anchors the soul. Together, you were meant to be the stewards of the land, a bridge between the world and the divine.”

“I gave you Astraea to save your soul. I gave you a Zenith to be your anchor, because I knew your heart was prone to the rot of pride.

“You were meant to protect her, to cherish the light that kept your fields green and your crops strong. But you disrespected that gift. You treated the sacred bond like a shackle. You traded a goddess for a mirror.”

“Mother, please what about me.” Verena shrieked, her voice desperate. “Please, I'm his true mate. I am the one who stood by him.”

“You are the one who fuelled his madness,” the goddess replied, her voice cold enough to shatter bones.

“You desired a crown of gold. Now you will wear a crown of ash. You sought to steal a bond that was never yours, so now you will feel the weight of a union that is truly cursed.”

“By the law of the moon and the decrees of the stars,” the goddess proclaimed, “I severe the grace of your union. Since you chose the rot of the heart, you shall bear the rot of the flesh.”

Suddenly, Jaxon let out a loud, blood curling scream. He held his neck, tearing at his collar, as if hot iron was being pressed on his neck.

Verena screamed too, and fell into the floor, clawing at the side of her throat. Under the terrified eyes of the whole realm, the meeting mark on their neck began to change.

The skin began to blister, turning to a sickly, bruised purple. Then a deep, oily black. The stench of decayed meat filled the air, so foul that everyone covered their nose.

“It's burning” Jaxon wailed. “Make it stop! It's eating me!”

The black rot spread from the mark across their collarbone. The bond that was supposed to be their source of power was now a parasitic infection. A physical manifestation of the corruption they had allowed into their lives.

“You are no longer recognized by the moon,” the goddess said, her form beginning to fade. “You are the cause of your own silence. May the dark reclaim what the light could not save.”

With a final blinding flash, the moon goddess vanished. The sky returned to its normal color, but the people were forever changed.

#. #. #. #. #.

As Alpha Kairos of the West and Alpha Thorne of the East looked at each other, they saw the same thing in each other's eyes, a realization that the South was a sinking ship, and Jaxon was the one who had bored the holes.

Kairos was the first to move. He was a man of the plains, who valued the wind and the harvest above all else. He looked at his hands, which were stained with the grey dust of his dying crops, and then he looked at the zenith.

He stepped out from behind his table, bypassing the sputtering Jaxon, and walked towards the center of the hall. He stopped in front of Astraea. With a heavy thud that echoed through the pavilion, he fell to his knees.

“Alpha Kairos,” Jaxon hissed, his voice breaking. “What are you doing? Stand up. We have a treaty. The Southern-western Accord.”

“The accord was made with a king,” Kairos said, his voice echoing, “not with a man who threw a goddess away. My people are eating bugs and dirt. My warriors are two weak to shift because the land has turned its back on us.”

Kairos looked at Astraea, his eyes filled with raw desperate hope. “Queen Astraea… zenith.”

“The Western Plains have been misled. We followed the sun of the South because we thought it brought life. We were wrong. The West recognizes the white light. We recognize the true blood.”

He unbuckled his ceremonial dagger and laid it on the floor. “The West pledge it's grains, it's steel and it's wolves to the North. We only ask for your blessing. Save my people from the rot and we are yours until the star goes dark.”

Thorne of the east didn't wait he was a man of the crags and the mines, practical and hard. He saw the way the wind was blowing and it smelled of snow. He stepped forward and knelt beside Kairos his huge body bowed.

“The east follows the west,” Thorne grumbled. “We have the iron and the stones, but we have no spirits left. The mines are weeping black biles, and the mountain goats are falling dead in their pens.”

“Jaxon told us the north was hoarding the light. He told us we were the witch stealing our heat.”

Thorne looked at Fenris, then at Astraea. “I see now that the north was the only place where the light was safe.”

“The east pledges its mines and its mountains to the zenith. We break our vow to the shadow fang From this day forward, we answer only to the silver wolf.”

She looked at Thorne and Kairos. “You asked for my blessing. You asked for the rot to stop. But do you understand the cost?”

“To follow the zenith is to walk the winter. You must purge the greed from your halls. You must honor the weak as much as the strong.”

“We will,” Kairos swore, his forehead touching the ground. “Whatever the cost.”

Astraea raised her hand. A wave of silver light fell over her finger. It washed over the kneeling Alpha's, and for the first time it months.

The smell of rots that had clung to them like a second skin disappeared, replaced by the scent of fresh rain.

“Then go,” Astraea commanded. “Return to your lands. Begin the purge. When the new moon rises, I will send the northern star light to help your soil, but remember, my eyes are everywhere.”

Jaxon and Verena laid on the floor, their faces gray, the black mark a tiny reminder of their fall from grace.

Astraea looked at them, she didn't feel the triumph she thought she would. She only felt a sense of closure.