Page 47

47

ERYSS

T he moon hangs huge and luminous, casting its glow over the village like an ancient guardian, watching, waiting.

The villagers gather in the clearing, forming a wide circle around the sacred stones where the ritual will take place. The heart of the village.

They whisper in excitement, their eyes shining with anticipation. Children clutch their parents' hands, their wide-eyed innocence making my chest tighten. I never thought this moment would come, not for me.

Yet, here I stand, at the edge of a destiny I never imagined.

The aroma of burning sage and wildflowers drifts through the air, mingling with the smoke from the towering bonfire crackling in the village. It flickers with a golden glow, casting shifting shadows over the expectant crowd.

I feel him.

Naranus.

He steps forward from the other side of the clearing, bathed in silver light. His golden eyes lock onto mine, his expression unreadable, but his power hums across the space between us, wrapping around me like a whisper of heat.

The villagers fall silent.

The village elder steps forward, her face lined with wisdom, her weathered hands steady as she raises a bowl of blessed water to the sky. "Tonight, under the eyes of the gods, under the witness of the land and the stars, two souls become one."

My throat tightens.

Naranus walks toward me, each step deliberate. The crowd parts for him, the villagers bowing their heads as he passes. His people may be gone, but they have been replaced with a new kind of kin, humans who now call him their own.

He stops in front of me, gaze unwavering, as if he can see straight into my soul. Maybe he can.

We stand together.

Magic crackles in the air, responding to the moment, to the power of what is being forged between us.

“Eryss.” His voice is rough, raw, and so achingly deep. “Are you ready?”

My lips part, but words fail me.

Ready?

To belong to him? To give myself over, not because of duty, not because of magic, but because I choose him?

The answer is so simple it shakes me.

“Yes,” I breathe.

He exhales, something easing in his expression. Then he lifts his hand, claws retracted, palm up. An offering.

My heart thunders as I lift mine, pressing my palm against his. Heat surges. The villagers gasp as a ring of light flares between us, magic responding to the vows yet to be spoken.

The elder dips her fingers into the blessed water and draws a sigil on my forehead, then his. “Under the moon’s witness, you bind your souls.”

Naranus lowers his head, pressing his brow to mine. Electricity snaps between us.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice rough with something dark and possessive.

I swallow, breath shuddering. The words come naturally.

“In the way of my people,” I whisper, “I bind myself to you.”

His hands slide to my wrists, gripping firmly, claiming.

“And in the way of mine,” he rasps, “I take you as my mate.”

Magic ignites.

A rush of power, uncontrollable, undeniable, swirls around us, sending dust and petals spiraling into the night. The fire behind us roars higher, and the village erupts into cheers.

Someone sobs. A woman wipes her tears, muttering about how beautiful it is.

Children laugh, their innocence untouched by the weight of the moment.

And through it all, Naranus’ golden gaze never wavers.

I’m his.

He’s mine.

It is done.

The ceremony melts into celebration.

Tables overflow with food, roasted meats, spiced stews, fruit so ripe it drips nectar onto eager hands. Ale flows freely, mugs clinking, voices raised in song and laughter.

The bonfire crackles high, casting golden ribbons of light across the dancers twirling in the center of the village.

Of course, they don’t let us sit out.

“Come on, Warlord!” one of the elders calls, lifting a mug high. “Even mighty warriors must dance for their mates.”

Naranus snorts. “You wish to see me make a fool of myself?”

The villagers laugh. But I narrow my eyes. “Oh, I think you’ll do just fine, warlord.”

Challenge flickers in his gaze. “Is that so?”

I grab his hand. He doesn’t resist.

We step into the clearing, surrounded by clapping hands, stomping feet. The music swells, and suddenly, we’re moving.

Naranus isn’t graceful. He’s a warrior, not a dancer. But he follows me, his grip strong, his movements surprisingly fluid.

The villagers whoop and cheer, clapping to the beat.

I laugh, spinning, twisting, until my pulse pounds from something other than battle. His hands grip my waist, pulling me against him as the world spins.

“You planned this,” he accuses, low in my ear.

I smirk. “Maybe.”

We dance until the stars turn. Until the night air is thick with laughter, warmth, belonging. Until there is nothing left but the sound of our hearts beating in time.

He takes my hand, leading me away from the crowd, away from the noise.

Away, until it’s just us.

The bonfire’s glow fades, replaced by the soft silver light of the moon.

I lift my head, breathless, giddy. He watches me, silent, steady, eternal.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, fingers brushing my cheek.

I press into his touch. “I always was.”

His lips capture mine, deep and lingering. A promise, sealed in moonlight.

I am home.