Chapter Seventy: The War Bride

Chapter Seventy: The War Bride
Chapter 70 – The War Bride

Word of the ritual did not stay contained within Rainfall.

By dawn, whispers had already carried through the forests. Messengers and spies who had slipped unseen beyond the borders spread the tale like wildfire: the Alpha of Rainfall had bound his Luna in the ancient rite. The Alpha bloodline was no longer fragile or half-formed. It was sealed forever.

By midday, the story reached Divine Orell.

She heard it not from her own scouts but from a trembling rogue who stumbled into her camp, bloodied and breathless, babbling about torches and howls and the Moon’s Eye shining over Rainfall as the wolves cried out in unity.

Divine listened without expression. Her silver eyes gleamed, but her jaw was set like iron. Only when the messenger fell silent, panting, did she move.

Her hand snapped forward, claws ripping across his throat. Blood sprayed into the firelight, and the rogue crumpled at her feet.

Her army flinched, but no one dared speak.

“Then we burn Rainfall to the ground,” Divine said, her voice low and venomous. “If I cannot sever them, then I will end them together.”

In Rainfall, the morning after the ritual felt different.

The pack moved through the courtyards with renewed strength, their eyes following Faith with awe rather than doubt. They bowed not only to their Alpha but to their Luna, whose scent now rolled through the air fused with David’s — wild honey tangled with smoke and iron, a permanent blend that made every wolf bristle with reverence.

Faith felt it in every step she took. The ritual pulsed in her veins like a second heartbeat. She could hear David’s wolf in her chest, low and steady, and she knew he felt hers. They were no longer just bound — they were one.

Yet with that power came weight.

Every gaze that lingered on her reminded her: she was not just carrying a pup now. She was carrying the bloodline. The pack’s future beat within her, and every wolf who looked at her saw it.

David had barely left her side since the ritual. His hand often found hers as if without thought, fingers locking tight, grounding both of them. But his eyes never stopped scanning the horizon, sharp and calculating.

By evening, the eastern sky burned.

The horizon glowed red, not with sunset but with firelight — a line of torches stretching like veins through the forest. The sound followed: the steady, deliberate thrum of war drums.

Faith stood beside David atop the eastern wall, the stone cold beneath her boots, the wind whipping her cloak around her legs. The pack assembled below, armed, tense, their wolves shifting restlessly at the scent of the approaching army.

“They come,” Faith whispered.

David’s hand closed over hers, ironclad. His eyes fixed on the red horizon, his jaw carved from granite. “They think themselves hunters. Let them come,they will find only teeth.”

Faith looked at him then, at the man she had mated, the Alpha she had bound herself to in blood, soul and his beast. The bond hummed in her chest, alive and unshakable. She felt his determination flood into her, his rage, his unyielding love and beneath it, the raw fear he would never speak aloud.

She squeezed his hand. “We will hold.”

He turned his head just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes glowed in the torchlight, wolf-bright, full of fire. “We will win.”

Below, the pack stirred uneasily. The younger wolves shifted from foot to foot, blades clutched tight, their nerves clear in every twitch. The veterans were calmer, but even they cast glances at the horizon, at the endless river of torches.

Faith felt their fear like a pulse beneath her skin. The ritual had not only bound her to David — it had sharpened her awareness of her pack. Their hope, their terror, their loyalty — all of it throbbed in the air around her, feeding her wolf’s instincts.

She lifted her chin, stepping forward to the edge of the wall. The crowd stilled below, their gazes snapping up to her.

“Rainfall!” Her voice carried over the courtyard, strong and fierce. “Divine comes to break us. She comes to take what is ours. She thinks us prey.”

A low growl rippled through the crowd, rising like a wave.

Faith’s wolf surged, her voice deepening, resonant with Alpha power though it was not hers by blood. “But tonight, she will learn the truth. We are not prey. We are Rainfall. We are the storm and we do not bow!”

The pack erupted in howls, a chorus of sound that shook the walls themselves.

David’s eyes burned as he watched her, pride fierce and raw. He leaned close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You were born for this.”

Her pulse fluttered, but she didn’t look away from the horizon. The torches drew closer, the drums louder.

And somewhere out there, she could feel Divine’s gaze like claws on her skin.

In the enemy camp, Divine watched the Rainfall walls through the shifting firelight of her own torches. Her silver hair gleamed in the blaze, her lips curled in a snarl.

“Bring the war bride to me,” she whispered to the shadows, her claws flexing. “Let her bleed beneath the Moon she thought would save her.”

Her soldiers howled, their voices carrying through the trees.

The war had begun.

Back atop the wall, Faith’s wolf pressed hard against her skin, restless, eager. The ritual’s bond with David thrummed so loudly she almost staggered. She turned her face toward him, their shoulders brushing.

“They will come for me first,” she said quietly.

“Yes.” His answer was blunt, unflinching.

“And you can’t stop them all.”

His jaw worked, but he didn’t deny it. His hand slid to the small of her back, grounding her, his scent thick with fury and possessiveness. “No. But I will kill enough of them that the rest remember my name when they burn.”

She almost smiled. Almost.

The horizon was fire. The air was smoke. And in her chest, the bond blazed.

The war for Rainfall and for the life inside her had come at last.

And Faith, no longer fragile, no longer doubted, no longer prey, stood ready as Luna.

And  as  war bride.