Chapter 147 Hail The Darkmoon

Chapter 147 Hail The Darkmoon

"What?"

Zuri's shock wasn't performance.

His jaw actually dropped, and around him the wolf kin caught it like a fever, spreading mouth to mouth until the whole longhouse held its breath.

"We will take up the mantle of the Darkmoon," Lord Arro said, "and raise its temples on our lands."

"But... Odin..." Zuri's voice cracked. "You'd forsake the Allfathers?"

Chief Obed rose. "A god who answers is worth more than one who watches from the shadows while we perish. There will be no more servants of Odin here, not because we scorn him, but because there will be no world left to serve him in if we wait on silence." He bowed low, his spine a bent blade. "This is our choice, Darkmoon. Not coerced. Not commanded. We give ourselves to you, and you will make us yours."

Even wearing the Darkmoon's full weight, Zuri found no words. These were Odin's oldest faithful, bending their necks to him instead.

Every knee in the hall found the floor at once—Wolf Kin and Selkaharin, moving in unison.

"I..." His voice, human again for one stuttering breath, betrayed him. His eyes flickered, disbelieving.

"We accept you gladly, servants of the Darkmoon," Yuna said before he could finish, warmth blooming across her face. Zuri's head snapped toward her. "Rise."

Then the longhouse broke apart.

Bodies surged forward, fear gone as if it had never lived there, reaching, cheering, grasping at hems and hands.

"Hail the Darkmoon! Hail the Darkmoon!"

The chant rolled out into the predawn dark like war drums.

Zuri laughed despite himself, not sure what else a man does with a room full of people who suddenly worship him.

Yuna caught his hand.

"Breathe, Zuri," she murmured, tugging him gently. "We're their god now, and they're our people. Let them adore us. We repay it in kindness."

She turned to a woman who'd only dared to touch the hem of her robe, and lifted the woman's palms in her own instead.

Zuri copied the gesture down the line, hand after outstretched hand.

"Make way, coming through. He's my brother!"

Zuri knew the voice before he saw the face.

Owen pushed into the clearing the crowd made for him, still bandaged, still favoring one leg.

Behind him came the rest of the family, closing fast.

"Let them through," Zuri commanded.

Owen reached him first and slapped his shoulder in greeting, wincing at his own gesture. "Gods, I've wanted to do that since the moment you became a god. Wasn't about to let the chance pass."

"You came. Even half in ruins."

"And miss your grand speech? Not in any of the Nine Realms."

"You're still hurt, brother. Let me heal you." Zuri reached for Owen's shoulders, light already gathering in his palms.

"No." Owen knocked his hands aside.

Zuri looked at him properly then. Owen's eyes hadn't softened; they still held winter in them, unmoved even by joy.

Then laughter cracked the moment open, loud and real. Zuri nearly flinched at the sound of it.

"Let the man be, Zuri." Asah clapped a hand on Owen's good shoulder. "We're warriors. Pain's the toll we pay for the work. Let us feel this one, it might be our last quiet wound in a while."

"Brother Asah..."

"Look at you," Asah said, wolf light kindling gold at the rims of his eyes. "Not the scrawny pup who used to trail after me begging for scraps of my patience. I like the man standing here instead. No..." He caught himself, voice dropping into something reverent. "I'm proud of the god standing here. Father would be. So would Mother."

"Thank you, brother." Zuri returned the smile, though it came slower this time. "I'll leave you two to your bruises, then."

"You're about to go save the world," Heth said, arriving from behind and folding Zuri into one of his crushing hugs, except this time Zuri didn't feel the weight of it at all. "Sit with us a while before you go. Sorry to say you'll miss Makena's wedding."

"Her what?" Zuri pulled back.

Makena pushed through the ring of bodies, beaming, twisting a braid around one finger.

"Captain Leonart. I said yes." A giggle escaped her before she could stop it. "The Vorhgar needs unity now more than ever. Our marriage will seal it."

"I'm happy for you, sister. Finally, all that bread and fruit you kept sneaking him paid off." Zuri reached out and traced her jaw the way an older brother does when there are no other words big enough, except he was the younger one.

Makena leaned into it, pleased. "Unity is exactly what this world needs. It'll be a small fire against a lot of despair, but a fire all the same. I'll be there if this war lets me."

"Please don't die trying," she said. "And Yuna..."

"She's Trivia now," Zuri cut in, glancing across the crowd to where she stood glowing quietly among a knot of women. "I'll marry her properly once this is finished. She's already said yes."

A ripple of "Wow" went through the family.

"It'll be an ugly war," Zuri went on. "But I think we come out the other side of it. Tell Oma I'm sorry, for what I said to her. She didn't deserve it."

"I know you didn't mean it," Makena said. "She knows too. Apologize to her properly, when you can. Promise me."

"I promise."

"Forgive the interruption." Chief Obed and Commander Aldrich cut through the crowd, both smiling. "We couldn't let you slip away before your family caught up to you."

"My Lord." Aldrich bowed.

They traded one long look and both broke into laughter at once. "Aldrich, you old dog." Zuri offered a warrior's clasp instead of an embrace.

"Warchief Shuma would've given his other eye to see this. The scrawny runt of Ayasha, standing here as a war-god we'd all march into the dark for."

"Thank you, Aldrich. And you, Chief Obed."

"While we're at it," Obed said, "you should know, you're about to miss the coronation of our new Warchief."

"New Warchief?" Zuri's gaze cut to Heth on instinct. "Brother?"

"Not me." Heth rubbed at his beard, almost sheepish. "Owen."

"What? Why?"

"My decision," Heth said, steady. "I told you once, Zuri, I was never built to lead men into war, only to stand beside the one who does. I hope Father understands, wherever he is. Owen's everything a Warchief should be: strong, steady, kind when kindness costs him something. He knows when to hold a line and when to break one." His eyes found Zuri's. "And he's an Alpha."

Zuri looked to Owen, who said nothing.

"It's like the Fenwalker's spirit picked him on purpose," Heth continued. "I won't argue with that. I'm going back to the old settlement out west after this, find some land, start a family, put down whatever strength I've got left into something that grows instead of something that kills. I'm done carrying a sword, brother. For good."

"Heth..." Zuri's voice caught.

"Don't waste grief on the big man, my Lord," Obed said. "It's his choice, and the High Fathers have blessed it, an Alpha taking the Warchief's mantle. I can't think of a better outcome. You've got a hard road ahead of you, saving all of this." He gestured at the hall, the crowd, the world beyond it. "Go with our prayers. Come back to us, god of the Darkmoon. A warrior doesn't weep, Zuri, not even when his father falls."

"Thank you, Chief Obed. I couldn't be happier it's Owen. I'll carry what's been handed to me and make it burn bright again. For the sake of everyone here, the Darkmoon will prevail."

Something shifted behind his eyes as he said it. Zuri receded, and the Darkmoon stepped forward to fill the space he left.

"Yuna."

The word cut through the noise like a blade through water. The crowd stilled, the cheering folding into silence.

"It's time. The world won't wait for us."

"Of course." She broke away from her sisters and crossed to him, leaning close to his ear. "Ophelia wants to be Owen's bride. She saw it in a dream."

Zuri's mouth curved. "Owen already agrees," he murmured back. "They'll suit each other."

He turned to face the hall one last time.

"Children of the Darkmoon. This is where we part ways, for now. You belong to each other now, under our gaze. Watch over one another. Stay faithful. Let love lead where fear used to. We will meet again, in whatever world is left standing when this is over, where tonight is nothing but a story you tell your children to frighten them a little, and comfort them a lot. Until then."

The air split with a sound like tearing silk, and they were gone, both of them, in the same breath, leaving only cold space where gods had stood.

No one spoke.

No one could.

Far off on the ridgeline, something with eyes like twin furnaces blinked once, slow, deliberate, far too intelligent for a beast, and turned back into the dark.