Chapter 47 The Moon goddess

Chapter 47 The Moon goddess

Verena who had spent the night scrubbing the shame from her skin, nodded frantically.

“She's right, Jaxon. It's a glamour. It has to be. No omega from our pack could ever hold that kind of power. Astraea was a defect.”

Jaxon gripped his sword.

“The elders are already doubting. If we can prove that she is a fake, the realm will turn on Fenris for harbouring a liar. I will take her back in chains and the north will be destroyed by noon.”

“Then we are agreed,” Lyra said, her eyes filled with malice. “We destroy her reputation before she touches the stone.”

“I will tell them about her illness in the north. You will tell them about her defect in the south. Between the three of us, we can make her look like a liar.

The middle of the pavilion had been cleared. In the middle of the floor stood the stone of Aletheia. It was a rough unpolished, huge meteoritic rock that was older than the pack itself. It sat on a pedestal of iron.

The arbiter stepped forward, his voice loud. “The bloodline rite is a sacred rite. It does not see glamour, it only feels the truth of the blood.”

Fenris and Astraea stepped into the circle. Astraea with a determined set of jaws and Fenris looking like a storm in human form, his hand was never far from the hilt of his weapon.

“Astraea of the shadow fang,” Elder Kane said, stepping forward. He looked at Lyra, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“Before you proceed, we have heard testimonies, fom the north and south alike.”

“Testimonies,” Fenris said, his aura flaring. “You would listen to the braying of jealous donkey over the evidence of your own eyes.”

“We listen to history,” Lyra shouted, coming out from the shadows. “I am Lyra, daughter of the Duke of the north.”

“I have seen this woman. She was a sickly stray. Fenris brought home. She has no lineage. She has no blood.”

“And I am her alpha,” Jaxon added, stepping into the cycle. His voice filled with desperation.

“I saw her born. I saw her grow. She was a weak omega who couldn't shift if her life depended on it. To call her a zenith is an insult to the goddess herself.”

The councilors began to murmur.

Astraea looked at Jaxon, then at Lyra. A smile touched her lips. “Is that all? Is our story finished?”

“You have no right to touch that stone,” Verena spat, her voice filled with hatred.
“You will defile it with your common blood.”

Astraea ignored her. She turned to the arbiter. “Is the stone ready?”

“it is,” the arbiter responded, clearly unnerved. “Place your hands upon the stone and call on your ancestors. If you are a zenith, the stone will react. If you are a fraud, the stone will consume you.”

Fenris reached out and touched Astraea's shoulder. “Show them,” he whispered. “Show them who you truly are.”

Astraea stepped towards the stone. The crowd held its breath. She raised her hands. Her fingers steady and pressed her palms flat against the rough surface of the stone of Aletheia.

For a second, nothing happened.

“See,” Verena shrieked an ugly triumphant laugh, leaving her mouth. “Nothing. She's a fake. Guard, seize her. Kill the impostor.”

Lyra smirked crossing her arms.

Jaxon began to draw his sword. “It is over, Astraea. Come here and stop.”

THUM! THUM!! THUM!!!

The sound was felt in the bone marrow of everyone in the room. It was the heartbeat of the world.

A single vein of white light erupted from within Astraea's palm. Within seconds, the dark rock was bright, so bright that it blinded those sitting in the front row,

The stone of Aletheia transformed into a substance that looked like pure moonlight. The color was so pure and holy that several of the elders fell to their knees.

“The zenith…” Elder Kane gasped shielding his eyes. “The white light… it is a mark of the firstborn.”

The light didn't stop at the stone. It travelled up Astraea's arm, turning her veins into rivers of silver. Her hair lifted, caught in an invincible wind and her eyes turned into twin pool of white fire.

The light slowly receded, but the stone of Aletheia was no longer dark, but a glowing white monument of the truth. Astraea pulled her hands back.

She looked at Lyra, who's face was a mass of sheer terror. She looked at Verena who looked at though she has been stuck dump.

Finally, she looked at Jason. “The stone has spoken, Alpha” Astraea said. “Do you still wish to claim my blood as common?”

Jaxon couldn't speak. He stumbled back his sword falling to the ground. The defect he had thrown away was now the most powerful being in the realm.

The zenith, the mythic protector of the wolves, the one meant to lead the realm, was a girl he had tried to kill.

“This is impossible,” Kane whispered, his voice shaking. “The zenith line was gone. We were told that they were extinct, that the goddess had abandoned us.”

“The goddess didn't abandon you,” Fenris said, standing beside Astraea and looking at the elders with a terrifying grin.

“You abandoned her. You let your kingdom rot with greed and called it progress. You let the south throw away it heart and called it tradition.”

Fenris looked at Lyra, “And you, you followed me against my order to spread lies about your queen. You are lucky I don't feed you to the wolves tonight.”

Lyra dropped to her knees, her pride broken. “I...I didn't know...I thought…

The ceiling of the great pavilion began to fade into a translucent mist, revealing the daytime sky, except it wasn't day anymore.

Above the neutral zone, the sun had been swallowed by a sudden impossible lunar eclipse.

Then she appeared, high above the stone of Aletheia, a figure of pure, blinding light materialized, she was taller than the pillars.

Her gown a galaxy of shifting constellations, her face a mark of ethereal beauty that no human eyes could fully comprehend.

“The moon goddess,” the alphas, who were already on their knees, pressed their face into the ground.

Even Fenris the mad king who feared nothing, bowed his head in a show of respect.

“Astraea,” the goddess, spoke.

Astraea looked up as silver eyes, filling with tears that didn't fall. They turned into tiny diamonds on her cheeks. “Mother,”

“My daughter,” the goddess, sighed.

“You have walked through fire and frost. You have carried the weight of a broken world without letting it break you. You are the zenith, not just by blood, but by the strength of your own mercy.”

The goddess turned her celestial eyes to Fenris. The king of the north shivered as the light washed over him.

“And you, king of the North, you saw the diamond in the dust. When others saw a stone, you guarded the light when it was a mere flicker.”