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“We are gathered,” she intoned, voice strong despite her age, “to renew the Pact forged in shadow and shaped in light. A vow between kin of magic and blood to protect this land, and each other, as one.”

Jace’s fingers squeezed around Lyra’s.

“We do not forget what was lost,” Mirelle continued, eyes scanning the crowd. “But we choose now—here, together—to honor what remains.”

A murmur of agreement moved through the circle.

“And this time, the Pact is not led by division, but by unity. Alpha Jace Montgomery of Moonfang Keep, do you stand to uphold the Pact?”

“I do.”

“And Lyra Ravenshade, of blood and bond, do you stand with him?”

Lyra’s voice rang clear. “I do.”

“Then let this magic be cast.”

Light flared from the altar, weaving gold into the air. Vines curled through the stonework, blooming wildflowers of every color. Magic bound itself not just to land, but topeople.

To them.

The crowd erupted.

Cheers, whistles, laughter. The music picked up again, and somewhere in the blur of sound and motion, Lyra leaned into his side and murmured, “Still grumpy?”

He looked down at her, full smile cracking across his face. “Not when you’re around.”

They didn’t leave each other’s side all night.

People approached them. Thanked them. Hugged Lyra like she’d saved the town singlehandedly—and she might’ve. Children gave her garlands of flowers. One of the shadowkin offered her a charm of moonlight wrapped in stone.

Everywhere Jace looked, he sawlifeagain.

And he knew, without question, that the thing he’d feared most—losing control, losing himself in the chaos of love, was the very thing that had saved them all.

41

LYRA

If the battle had been fire and fury, then the days that followed were stitched together with soft laughter, sticky fingers, and a kind of peace Lyra had only ever dreamed about.

Celestial Pines was healing.

Not in some grand, world-shaking kind of way—but in the little things.

The sweet kind.

Like the sound of shifter pups tearing through the garden behind Moonfang Keep, chasing each other with wild grins and muddy paws while Calla yelled at them for trampling her foxglove. Or the way Milo had dragged an entire branch into the main hall and declared it his new throne, demanding someone “bedazzle it appropriately for a cat of royal lineage.”

Lyra had snorted so hard cider came out her nose.

“You let a cat boss you around?” Jace had teased, arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway that evening.

She’d looked him dead in the eye and replied, “Better than letting an Alpha think he’s in charge.”

He’d kissed her after that.

Long and slow.