Chapter 71 THE FIRST CRACK IN THE MOON
The council chamber had emptied, but the echoes stayed.
Aria and Roman stood alone now—except for the two guards by the main doors, who pretended not to hear the storm still vibrating in the air. The torches were burning lower. The great wolf sigils around the circular hall seemed to watch them—not with judgment now, but with quiet, ancient expectation.
Roman had not moved his hand from the small of her back.
Aria didn’t realize she was shivering until he turned to face her fully.
“You’re cold,” he murmured.
“I’m not,” she whispered automatically, even though it wasn’t true. She wasn’t shivering from temperature. She still felt the oath inside her skin—alive, like it was waiting.
He studied her face. “It changed something in you.”
“It changed something in you too,” she said quietly.
He didn’t deny it.
He only said, “Come. Before the elders decide they want to test your blood next.”
She didn’t protest when he led her from the chamber. His palm against her back felt grounding. Real.
She didn’t want to be alone just yet.
The hallway outside was quiet, lit only by moonlight filtering through narrow arched windows. The night was cold and bright, the moon suspended low and too full—glowing slightly pink.
A blood tint.
Roman paused, eyes narrowing at the sight.
“The moon shouldn’t show color like that,” Aria murmured.
“No,” he agreed, jaw tightening.
As they walked, she could still feel the echo of the vision that had hit her during the oath—images of shattered thrones, burning sky, screaming wolves.
She exhaled shakily. Roman didn’t look at her, but he noticed.
“You saw something,” he said quietly.
“Did you?” she asked.
His silence was answer enough.
They walked in silence for several moments, their steps echoing softly against the old stone floor.
“It’s not a fixed future,” Roman said finally.
She turned to look at him. “You sound certain.”
“I’m not certain,” he replied. “But I know destiny isn’t a straight road. It bends when we do.”
She wanted to believe that.
But the Mark still pulsed against her skin—and something within it felt awake, as if the oath had stirred sleeping embers.
They reached the ancient balcony that overlooked the entire valley—moonlit fields, distant mountains, wolf banners fluttering in the wind. It felt oddly quiet. Too still.
Aria gripped the stone railing, letting the wind clear her head.
Roman stood beside her, not speaking, not demanding answers. He only stood close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm when she breathed.
Finally, she spoke.
“When I took the oath… I saw something.” Her voice was barely above wind. “It felt like… a glimpse. A warning. Or a promise.”
Roman didn’t move. He only listened.
“There was fire,” she whispered. “Red sky. Shadow-creatures—the ones from the northern ridge attack—but more. Thousands. There were wolves fighting. Dying. The Alpha sigil was cracked.” She swallowed. “I saw myself—but I wasn’t fighting. I was… standing on a cliff. Waiting.”
Waiting—for something. Or someone.
Roman’s voice was very calm when he spoke. But it had the steel of a blade right before it draws blood.
“Did you see me?”
Aria’s breath caught.
She had.
Not clearly. Not fully. But…
She turned to answer—but her breath froze.
Roman had gone very still, his gaze fixed—not on her, but past her.
“Aria,” he said slowly.
She turned.
And froze.
The moon overhead—no longer softly tinted pink—was deepening in color. Slowly, impossibly, it shifted into a rust-red glow, pulsing faintly like a living heart.
A partial eclipse.
But too early.
“Roman…” she whispered. “The eclipse isn’t supposed to start yet. It’s not time.”
“Something has moved the cycle,” he said in a low, dangerous tone.
A wind picked up—carrying the scent of pine, earth, and something else.
Something wrong.
Far below, the wolves in the valley began to howl—not in harmony, but in fractured, troubled discord.
Like they felt something.
Like the moon was calling—but not gently. Not in prophecy.
In warning.
“Roman,” Aria whispered, suddenly feeling nauseous. “Someone is forcing it.”
He didn’t answer. But his eyes—gold and black—reflected the red moon like molten fire.
A moment later, a guard sprinted down the corridor, breathless, pale.
“Alpha—” he gasped. “A message—from the eastern border.”
Roman didn’t turn from the moon.
“Speak.”
The guard swallowed hard.
“They’ve been seen. Near the Shadow Gorge.” He lifted his eyes. “The creatures, Alpha. The ones from the old war.”
Silence.
Cold wind.
Somewhere far away—a wolf screamed instead of howled.
Not a battle cry.
A warning.
Aria didn’t realize she had grabbed Roman’s arm until she felt his pulse hammering beneath her fingers.
His voice was quiet.
“It’s too soon.”
No.
Aria felt the truth settle in her bones.
It wasn’t too soon.
It was right on time.
The first crack in the moon had begun.
And prophecy—was waking.