Page 29

DOMINIC

T he parchment was gripped firmly between Dominic’s fingers as he stepped into the stone hall of the Celestial Pines Council Chamber.

The oncoming sunset filtered through the high, arched windows, spilling amber rays across the long, rune-carved table where the elders sat in their respective chairs, each carved with symbols of their lineage and legacy.

Hazel sat at the end, her expression unreadable, eyes sharp and ancient.

She was dressed in muted lavender robes, a far cry from the ash-smudged version of herself that had wandered back into town.

Across from her sat Jace Montgomery—grumpy, broad-shouldered, and looming like a thundercloud in a dark henley and worn leather boots, arms crossed over his chest. The man smelled like pine and old promises, a scent Dominic remembered from hunts past and brief but intense territory discussions.

The other council members he recognized but had never really had any reason to visit with them one-on-one. But now, that was all about to change.

Dominic didn’t hesitate. He placed the parchment down on the table with a quiet finality, letting the ancient glyphs burn into view, the edge of the page still warm with fresh ink and protective spellcraft.

“This,” he said, voice steady, “is your proof.”

Lillith stood beside him, spine straight, gaze unyielding. She hadn’t said much since the morning, but her silence wasn’t from doubt—it was bracing. Focused. The kind of stillness before a spell broke open the sky.

Hazel reached for the page first, her hand slower than usual, the practiced confidence of a seasoned council member faltering beneath the weight of what she held.

Her fingers hovered above the ancient parchment like it might bite—centuries-old runes smoldering faintly under the dim light of the chamber, flickering like embers that refused to die.

She ran a thumb across the wax seal bearing the mark of the Moonlit Pact, and her lips moved silently, translating what hadn’t been read aloud in generations.

As the silence thickened, Lillith stepped forward, voice echoing through the chamber like the toll of a bell.

“He’s not trying to corrupt the Pact,” she said, every word measured, every syllable sharp. “He wants to destroy it. Tear the ley lines apart. Return magic to a time of wild chaos—before the realms were tethered.”

The words struck like thunder.

Jace leaned forward, the massive shifter’s storm-grey eyes narrowing. “That would level the towns,” he growled. “It would tear holes between planes. Let things in that don’t belong.”

Dominic could feel the change ripple through the room—the dread sinking its claws into every stone.

“It’s already starting,” he added, his voice low, raw.

“You saw the shadow beasts. You felt the rift last month near Hollow Bend. That was Thaloryn’s doing.

His magic isn’t just spreading—it’s adapting. Feeding off instability.”

Hazel’s eyes snapped up. “You’re saying the rift was intentional ?”

Lillith nodded, her jaw clenched. “A test. And the boy in the market last week—he was branded with Dreaming runes. They were ancient. Feral. If we hadn’t intervened…” She trailed off, but the weight of her words filled the space. He would have died. Just like so many more will.

A wave of whispers surged through the chamber like a current. Elder Myra, frail and fine-boned, leaned toward her fellow councilor with silver eyes wide in disbelief. Across the long table, Briar’s bark-slick skin visibly hardened as the dryad muttered protective enchantments under her breath.

“Why now?” Jace snapped, always the warrior first. “Why start all this now?”

Dominic stepped forward. The gravity in his shoulders was different now. He wasn’t just a shifter. He was a man who had clawed his way out of Thaloryn’s prison and survived. “Because the realms are weak,” he said. “The balance is off. And because he thought I was the easiest way in.”

Gasps rippled across the room. Hazel leaned back in her chair, brows furrowed in hard calculation.

Dominic didn’t falter. His gaze met Hazel’s, unwavering. “He cursed me. Bound me to Lillith. Tried to twist the bond into something unstable. Something he could weaponize to crack open the boundary between realms.”

“But it didn’t work,” Lillith said, voice quiet but carrying. “Because we resisted. Because… we chose.”

And then Dominic’s voice turned thunderous.

“She is my mate.”

Everything went still.

The kind of stillness that drowns a battlefield seconds before a sword is drawn.

Hazel blinked. Elder Myra actually gasped. And Jace’s face—a mask carved in stone—twitched just enough to betray his surprise.

Dominic held the moment, unshaken. “Not because of the curse. Not because of prophecy or manipulation. Because when everything went dark, she found me. When Thaloryn tried to break me, she put me back together. She chose me. And I chose her.”

Lillith stood rooted beside him, her body taut with emotion, lips parted as if caught between breath and disbelief.

Dominic turned back to the chamber, letting his words fall heavy. “If Thaloryn thinks he can use her— use us —to shatter the world, then he’s not just a threat to the Pact. He’s an enemy to this town . And I won’t let him win.”

Jace’s brow lifted, his arms still crossed over his chest, but his posture shifted—just a little. Enough to say he’d heard him. Really heard him.

“You’re serious?” Jace said.

“Deadly.”

The wolf shifter nodded once. “And her?”

All eyes turned to Lillith.

Her voice was a breath at first. Then it rose, stronger. “I agree with him. I’ve seen what Thaloryn’s capable of. I’ve stood in the Echoes. I’ve felt the terror of what comes through when the veil thins. If we don’t act now, if we don’t unify—there won’t be anything left to protect.”

“She made her choice,” Dominic said again. “No coercion. No magic. Just truth.”

Hazel’s silence was long. Measured.

Then she folded the parchment, gently, as if handling an ancient wound.

“Then we prepare,” she said, her voice low and firm. “We convene the Council of Concords. We send word to the border towns. And we reinforce the Pact.”

“We don’t have long,” Dominic added. “Thaloryn won’t sit idle now that we’ve seen through him.”

“I’ll call in my pack,” Jace muttered, uncrossing his arms at last. “We’ve held the northern line since before the Great Reconciliation. Whatever this bastard’s planning, he’ll have to go through me first.”

Dominic gave a small, grateful nod. “We’ll need the old records. Pact law, ley line placement. Every scrap of magical precedent. Lillith and I can get Echo Archive access.”

“And what about you?” Jace asked, glancing at Lillith. “You ready for this?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I was born ready. I just… forgot for a while.”

A rare chuckle rolled from Jace’s chest. “Spirits help us.”

As the elders rose and scattered, orders already flowing from lips and parchment, Dominic took one long breath. The chamber was still filled with tension, but now it had direction. Purpose.

They stood outside the council chamber, the wind stirring the dried leaves at their feet, the sky above bruised with impending dusk.

Around them, Celestial Pines buzzed with the tension of awakening—calls to arms, spell runes dusted off ancient shelves, warriors and witches alike drawing lines in the sand.

But in that moment, Dominic only had eyes for her.

Lillith, strong and certain during the council meeting, now looked… haunted.

Her arms folded tightly across her chest, like she could hold herself together if she just pressed hard enough. Her voice, when it came, was barely louder than the breeze.

“Do you think I’m the reason this is happening?”

Dominic blinked. “What?”

She didn’t look at him. Just stared at a knot in the cobblestone like it held all the answers she was too afraid to say out loud.

“I summoned him,” she whispered. “Thaloryn. I didn’t mean to, not like this. I had questions about the Pact, about the forest—I thought I could control it. I thought I was being careful. But I opened the door, Dominic. I opened it, and now everything is unraveling.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, tears gathering in her lashes before she could blink them away.

Without thinking, he reached out and caught her hands in his—steady, warm, grounding. “Lillith,” he said, voice low and fierce, “look at me.”

She hesitated, then lifted her chin just enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes, always so quick with fire or wit, were now soft and raw, waiting to be told she hadn’t doomed them all.

“Why would you think this is your fault?” he asked, thumbing a tear from her cheek.

“Because I started it,” she said, voice trembling. “Maybe I didn’t mean to… but I did. All of this—what if I made it worse?”

Dominic pulled her closer, his arms circling her like a shield against the wind, against her own self-blame. He felt her sigh, deep and shaky, like it cost her something just to stay standing.

“Hey,” he murmured into her hair, “this isn’t on you. Did you hear what you just said? What I found out? What we found out?”

She leaned back, just enough to see his face, eyes searching his like he might disappear if she blinked too hard.

“It means he already had this plan,” Dominic said. “The Moonlit Pact, the shadow magic, the rifts—he was already working behind the curtain. You didn’t unleash him. You exposed him. Without you summoning him, we wouldn’t have known any of this until it was too late.”

Her lip trembled, but her hands gripped his tighter.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said. “You gave us a fighting chance.”