Chapter 124 The Quiet Before
I knew it was still night before I even opened my eyes.
The world had that heavy, blue silence that only exists before dawn, when even the birds haven’t decided if they’re brave enough to sing yet. My body felt warm, cocooned, tangled in thick blankets that still smelled faintly like Darius , smoke, pine, something darker beneath.
Then.
A knock.
Not gentle.
“Mara,” I groaned without lifting my head.
The door opened anyway.
I burrowed deeper into the blankets, dragging them over my head like a shield. The bed beside me was cold.
Empty.
I felt for Darius without thinking, palm sweeping across the sheets. Nothing but cool linen.
“He left an hour ago,” Mara said, far too awake for this hour of the morning.
Of course he did.
Of course the Alpha was already up while I, the Luna, was trying to fuse myself into the mattress.
“Five minutes,” I mumbled into the pillow.
“No.”
I made a noise that was half growl, half dying animal.
“I used to have to wake up before sunrise to train with Thane and Vincent,” I continued dryly. “And now that I am spared because of ceremony preparation, I still have to wake up this early. If I had known, I would have told the elders no.”
I pulled the blanket down just enough to glare at her.
“You could still tell them no.” She crossed her arms. “And admit defeat ”
That woke me up a little.
“You’re dramatic,” I muttered, pushing myself upright. My hair was everywhere. My bones felt heavy. “Also, I didn’t volunteer for this. You just informed me and said it was my responsibility .”
“You are Luna,” Mara replied. “You don’t volunteer. And you’re right it’s your responsibility .”
I exhaled slowly and forced myself out of bed. The floor was cold under my feet, grounding in the worst way.
“If I had known planning a ceremony meant waking before dawn,” I grumbled as I reached for clothes, “I would have pretended to be ill.”
Mara snorted. “You fought witches in a hotel hallway No one would believe you had a cold.”
Fair.
I dressed quickly ,simple black leggings, a loose t-shirt and sneakers. No armor. No weapons.
This felt worse.
When I stepped into the hallway, the pack house was quiet but not asleep. I could feel movement , distant footsteps, low voices, doors opening and closing. The eastern side of the manor held the pack hall, built where the forest thinned and the first light of dawn always touched the stone floors first. I had passed it before, but never entered.
Mara pushed the doors open.
The space was vast.
Empty but clean, The air inside was cool and still, holding the faint scent of cedar and ash. Torches lined the curved walls but were unlit. At the center of the hall was a circular stone platform etched with old markings, crescent shapes, binding lines, symbols that felt older than any pack I’d known.
The roof above was partially open,crafted so the full moon would sit directly overhead when the time came.
For now, the sky above it was pale violet.
“This is where it begins,” Mara said softly.
Her voice sounded different here.
Smaller.
Reverent.
I stepped forward slowly.
My footsteps echoed.
“It feels…” I trailed off.
Watching.
Mara nodded once. “It is.”
I shot her a look.
She didn’t smile.
“Ceremonies are taught in silence first,” she said. “Before crowds distort meaning. Before voices turn ritual into performance.”
My shoulders tightened.
“And now TheVigil of Stillness,” she said.
The word vigil should have sounded peaceful.
It didn’t.
It sounded like waiting for something inevitable.
Mara stood near the edge of the eastern hall’s platform, hands clasped behind her back, posture rigid in that way that made even silence feel disciplined. The dawn light had fully spilled across the floor now, pale gold catching in the etchings beneath our feet.
“The day before Silverbound,” she began, voice calm but firm, “is called the Vigil of Stillness.”
I folded my arms loosely across my chest.
“Stillness,” I repeated. “That sounds… deceptively harmless.”
“It is,” she replied.
She stepped down from the platform and motioned for me to follow as we began walking the perimeter of the hall. Her boots echoed lightly against the stone, measured, deliberate.
“The Vigil of Stillness begins at sunrise the day before the full moon reaches its peak,” she continued. “From that moment until the ceremony itself, the entire pack observes restraint.”
“In what way?” I asked, though something in her tone already warned me.
She glanced at me sidelong.
“No shifting.”
I blinked.
“None?”
“None,” she confirmed. “Not even partial.”
My beast stirred immediately at that, not angry, but alert. Curious.
Shifting was instinct. Relief. Release. It was how wolves bled tension from their bodies. For some, it was how they processed emotion.
“And if someone loses control?” I asked.
“They will be removed from the ceremony.”
That was sharp enough to sting.
“Removed,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
Meaning watched.
Judged.
Possibly shamed.
Mara continued walking.
“No fighting.”
I huffed faintly. “You’re asking wolves not to fight for an entire day.”
“Yes.”
“That’s ambitious.”
“It is necessary.”
She stopped walking and turned to face me fully.
“The Vigil exists to quiet the body so the spirit can be heard,” she said. “Shifting releases tension. Fighting burns aggression. They are outlets. On that night, we deny those outlets.”
“So everyone just… sits with their feelings?” I asked skeptically.
“Yes.”
That sounded worse than fighting.
I tilted my head slightly. “And if tensions boil over?”
“They are expected to be addressed at Silverbound. Not before.”
Ah.
Now that was dangerous.
Let grievances simmer so they surface under the full moon.
My stomach tightened.
“And mates?” I asked casually.
Mara’s eyes narrowed faintly, like she knew exactly why I was asking.
“No mating,” she said, enunciating each word.
I stared at her.
She didn’t blink.
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
“Why?”
Her jaw set slightly, though not in irritation, more in emphasis.
“Mating is binding,” she said. “It is a reaffirmation of physical connection. On the Vigil, all bonds are placed under reflection, not indulgence.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“So you’re telling me the entire pack is forbidden from….”
“Yes.”
She didn’t let me finish.
I couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped me.
“You’re going to have restless wolves.”
“We always do.”
“And Darius knows this rule?”
Her expression didn’t change.
“Yes.”
I tried not to think about that too much.
No shifting.
No fighting.
No mating.
The pack fasts and reflects.
“You’re forgetting something,” I said slowly.
“I’m not.”
“The fasting.”
She inclined her head.
“From sunset to the ceremony, no food,” she confirmed.
I stared at her.
“No food.”
“No food.”
I exhaled sharply. “You’re depriving wolves of shifting, fighting, mating, and eating.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect them to be calm?”
“Yes they are not the first or the last wolves to observe it.”
“This is cruel,” I muttered.
“It is cleansing.”
I crossed my arms tighter, trying to imagine the pack under those conditions. Hungry. Restless. Introspective. Holding back instinct.