Page 17 of The Onyx Covenant (The Lunaterra Chronicles #2)

Chapter Thirteen

LYRA

W e burst into the clearing of the gate, where others stare at us, looking just as startled. The valley stretches before us, cradled between the towering Darkbone Peaks that loom overhead. Their jagged silhouettes pierce the storm clouds, dark against darker, watching our approach with stony indifference.

“Aria!” I call out, scanning the gathered entrants. “Aria, where are you?”

The rain continues to fall, gentler now but persistent, but I can’t see her and hurry toward the tent.

Tavian steps forward, his expression grave. The relief of seeing him alive is immediately overshadowed by the absence at his side.

“Where’s Aria?” I demand, my voice breaking. “Has she returned?”

His jaw clenches. “She, Orion, Kieran, and Rachel haven’t returned.”

Panic rises, sharp and acidic in my throat.

He shakes his head and moves back into the tent, out of the rain.

Theron steps up beside me, his presence solid and reassuring. All I can think about are the trolls in these mountains. Aria could be injured, trapped—or worse.

I wrap my arms around myself, shivering.

Nearby, several elaborate attached tents have been erected. They’re constructed of a gray and faintly luminescent material, as if woven from moonlight itself. Small glowing orbs hover above each entrance, casting cool blue light across the muddy ground.

“We need to go look for them,” I say, already turning back toward the mountainous path we just descended.

Theron catches my arm. “Lyra, wait.”

“No, we can’t just?—”

“Priestess Mooncrest.” A stern voice cuts through my protest. I turn to see Tarek and Melian approaching from within the tent.

Unlike the rest of us—battered, soaked, and filthy from our journey—the two Covenant representatives look immaculate. Their ceremonial robes are perfectly dry, without a speck of mud or a single wrinkle. Their hair and skin are clean, as if they’d just stepped out of a bath rather than traveled the same treacherous mountain we did.

“We need to find my friend,” I say, facing Melian directly. “There are four of them still out there somewhere.”

Melian’s expression remains impassive. “The Harvest Ritual continues regardless of individual circumstances. Those who have arrived may proceed. Those who have not must find their own way and will be eliminated if they don’t arrive.”

“Are you serious?” I step closer, disbelief making me reckless. “There are trolls out there. We found Zephyr and Maddox dead already. And you’re just going to… what? Leave them to die?”

“We do not interfere,” Tarek states firmly. “Each participant is responsible for themselves and their partner. This is the way it has always been.”

Theron continues at my side, hand at my back, urging me to move away from the Covenant members. He leans in close, saying, “Kieran has survived worse than this. If anyone can find a safe path through this mess, it’s him. Let’s not panic yet.”

I want to believe him. I need to believe him. But the image of Zephyr’s crushed skull flashes before my eyes, and my throat tightens.

“You leave, you nullify your continuation in the ritual,” Melian says, her voice as cold as mountain stone. “Everyone is responsible for themselves. This is why your team member is most important.”

“We wait,” Tarek states with finality. “They have until midnight. If they don’t arrive by then, they forfeit their positions in the final trial.”

The declaration falls like a stone. Midnight. Hours away still, but with the storm and the mountain’s dangers…

“Come,” Melian gestures toward the tents. “There is food and dry clothing. You’ll need your strength for what’s to come.”

I want to refuse on principle, to stand in the rain until Aria appears, but Theron’s hand on the small of my back guides me into the tent.

“We’re no use to them exhausted and hypothermic,” he murmurs close to my ear. “Besides, Aria would kick your ass if she knew you were standing in the rain like an idiot instead of getting dry.”

Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips. He’s right. Aria would absolutely give me hell for being dramatic.

“Fine,” I concede.

Inside, the space is larger than it appeared from outside—impossibly so, as if the canvas walls contain more space than they should. Soft rugs cover the ground, intricately patterned in blues and silvers that remind me of Elios ceremonies. Plush cushions are arranged around low tables laden with food, and several braziers provide warmth without smoke.

The other survivors are scattered throughout, some already changed into dry clothes provided in neat stacks at the tent’s edges.

He leads me to a stack of dry clothes that appear to be my size. “Get changed,” he says softly. “Then we’ll grab some food.”

The clothes are similar to what we’re wearing but dry. I change quickly behind a discreet screen, the fabric heavenly against my skin after so long in wet clothes.

When I emerge, Theron is waiting for me with a smile. “Feel better?” He’s changed as well into black pants, a charcoal tunic, and a dark jacket.

I nod, and we go to collect some food before settling on the cushions. The meal is simple but satisfying—slices of hard cheese and cured meat, rough-crusted bread still warm from the hearth, and small bowls of dried fruit and quince preserves.

As I finish eating, I gather our plates and cross the tent to place them on a stack near the entrance. A jug of water rests beside them, and I pour myself a cup, letting the warmth of the food settle in my belly.

Near the back of the tent, I spot Kay, Zephyr’s Omega, next to Maddox’s Omega, grief etched into their faces. They don’t speak, just pick at the food on their plates. My heart aches for them—for whatever horror they survived to make it back without their partner.

Across the space, I catch a glimpse of Theron speaking quietly with Erebus, their heads bent close, their voices too low to hear.

That’s when I feel it. A stare.

I turn slightly and find Selene watching me from her spot near the far wall. Her blue eyes are sharp as blades, her face is scratched, and her dark hair is tangled in a way that suggests more than just the storm is to blame.

I try to ignore her, sipping my water.

She rises and stalks toward me, her steps sure and stiff with anger.

“I almost died today because of you,” she groans with no subtlety, just venom.

I blink, caught off guard by the accusation. “Excuse me?”

“I bet you were safe with Theron at your side,” she continues, poison dripping from every word. “While we were attacked by fucking Bloodmoths.”

Ah. That explains the scratches, the tangled hair, and the storm of rage she’s barely holding back.

I raise a brow, tilting my head just slightly. “You were afraid of moths?”

Her eyes flare, the fury in them igniting like dry kindling. “They feed on your skin, you idiot… ripped through clothes like it was paper.”

“Sure,” I drawl, not even bothering to hide the edge in my voice. “If there’s a massive swarm. Was it?”

She opens her mouth, then hesitates, just for a second, but it’s enough.

I see the truth flash across her face before she can hide it.

It wasn’t.

She glares harder, jaw tightening like she wants to lunge at me, and grinds her teeth.

“I was supposed to be with Theron, not you, bitch!” She practically spits the last word, her hands curling into claws at her sides.

I step closer, keeping my voice low but razor-sharp. “Listen, Selene, I don’t care what little fantasy you had planned. I just found two of our kind with their skulls crushed, nearly died on a collapsing bridge, and my best friend is still out there somewhere. Your hurt feelings are the least of anyone’s concerns right now.”

Selene’s beautiful face contorts with rage, her body tensing as if preparing to spring. “You think this is about hurt feelings?” Her voice is a venomous whisper, barely audible to the others resting nearby. “This is about tradition. About bloodlines. About maintaining the purity of what we’ve built for generations.”

“Spare me the purity speech,” I hiss back. “We both know this is about your wounded pride.”

Her eyes gleam with cold fury. “You have no idea what you’ve stepped into, Elios trash. You’re nothing but a temporary distraction for him. When this is over—if you even survive—he’ll come to his senses.”

“The only thing coming to an end is your delusion,” I counter, feeling my own anger rising to match hers. “Theron made his choice. Deal with it.”

Something shifts in her expression then—calculation replacing blind rage. She leans in closer, her words meant for my ears alone. “You know, I should have made sure you died in the gorge that first night. My mistake.”

The admission hits me like ice water. She’d tried to murder me before the trials even properly began.

“It was you,” I breathe, realization turning quickly to white-hot fury. “You pushed me.”

Her smile is all venom and pride. “And next time, I won’t fail.”

Something snaps inside me. With a snarl, I lunge forward, my fist connecting with her jaw before she can react. “You fucking bitch!” The words tear from my throat as she staggers backward.

Selene recovers quickly, her hand dropping to the blade at her waist. The metal gleams as she draws it halfway from its sheath.

Suddenly Theron is between us, his broad back to me as he faces Selene. One hand is raised toward her, the other extended behind him to hold me back.

“That’s enough,” he states sternly, his voice carrying quiet authority.

“She attacked me!” Selene hisses, though her hand stills on the blade.

“After you admitted to attempted murder,” I spit, trying to move around Theron. He shifts slightly, keeping himself as a barrier between us.

“She doesn’t deserve to be here,” Selene continues, her gaze locked on me over Theron’s shoulder. “An Elios priestess? She’ll be useless in the final trial. You’ve doomed yourself by choosing her.”

“Selene.” Theron’s tone drops even lower, a warning rumble like distant thunder. “Your father’s influence got you into this ritual, but it won’t keep you alive through it. The mountain just taught everyone a valuable lesson about who can be relied on. Take the hint and focus on survival instead of petty rivalries.”

His words do nothing to dampen the hatred in her eyes. “This isn’t over,” she mouths to me, her fingers still wrapped around her blade’s hilt.

“You’re right about that,” I murmur, just loud enough for both of them to hear.

Selene’s eyes narrow to slits of pure hatred. For a moment, I think she might attack anyway, consequences be damned. Instead, she turns on her heel and stalks out of the tent, her rigid posture screaming of humiliation.

As soon as she’s gone, Theron turns to me. “What happened? What did she say to you?”

I consider telling him. But something stops me. This is my fight, not his.

“Nothing worth repeating,” I say instead, forcing my breathing to steady. “Just her usual poison.”

His eyes search mine, clearly not believing me. “Lyra?—”

“Not here,” I cut him off, nodding toward the others pretending not to watch our exchange. “Trust me. This is something I need to handle.”

He hesitates, then gives a slight nod. He takes my hand, guiding me to a quieter corner of the tent, where a small table holds bread, cheese, and what smells like mulled wine. “You should eat more. The final trial won’t be easy.”

We sit close together, the shared warmth a stark contrast to the chill of worry that’s settled in my chest. I pick at the food, my appetite diminished by worry for Aria.

“Tell me,” I say after a while. “Why are you so confident Kieran will keep Aria safe?”

Theron’s expression softens slightly. “We’ve been friends since we were pups. His mother helped raise me after mine disappeared.” He tears off a piece of bread, rolling it between his fingers absently. “He comes across as a smart-ass, but he’s the most loyal wolf I know. And the most resourceful. When we were fifteen, we got lost in the northern territories during a hunting trip. Blizzard came out of nowhere and separated us from the rest of the party. Kieran not only found shelter, but he also managed to catch food, start a fire with practically nothing, and track our way back once the storm cleared.”

We lapse into a comfortable silence, the worry still present but somehow more bearable shared between us. Outside, the rain slows, pattering against the tent. Occasionally, thunder rumbles overhead while I keep picking at the food, and Theron and I exchange stories of the silliest things Kieran and Aria have done.

The waiting is torture. As night stretches over the land, bringing with it a deeper chill, my hope begins to falter. What if they don’t make it by midnight? What if they don’t make it at all?

“They’re coming,” someone says from outside the tent.

I sprint out of the tent, hope tight in my gut, Theron at my side.

Voices call out, feet splash through mud, and my heart leaps into my throat. Four of them are pushing themselves toward us, and I let out a relieved sound to see them alive.

They finally reach us, drenched, breathing hard, flushed with exertion but gloriously, wonderfully alive.

“Aria!” I launch myself at her, nearly knocking her over with the force of my embrace. She staggers but stays upright, her arms closing around me with equal fervor.

“I thought you were dead,” I sob into her neck, not caring who sees my moment of weakness. “When you didn’t come back, I thought?—”

“Takes more than a river to kill me,” she replies, her voice rough but strong. “Though it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

I pull back to examine her face, the bags under her eyes. Exhaustion is evident in the slope of her shoulders, but she’s here, solid and real beneath my hands.

Beside us also stand Orion and Rachel, appearing just as worn. Theron and Kieran engage in a rougher version of the same reunion—a fierce hug followed by Theron shoving Kieran’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.

“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?” Theron growls, though the relief in his voice is obvious.

Kieran grins. “Had to make a dramatic entrance, didn’t we? Besides, your Omega’s friend here insisted on taking the scenic route.”

Aria rolls her eyes at him, but I notice something odd in her expression—a softness when she looks at Kieran that wasn’t there before.

“What happened?” Cassius asks.

“The river carried us around to the eastern side of the mountain,” Kieran explains, running a hand through his soaking red hair. “By the time we managed to get out, we were halfway to the fucking Hallowlands.”

“The current was too strong to swim against,” Aria adds. “We had to hike back, and then we ran into damn wolves.”

“But you got away,” I say, still holding her arm as if afraid she might disappear again.

“Obviously,” Kieran smirks. “Aria here is quite the fighter. Took down the Alpha with nothing but sheer stubbornness.”

Rachel clears her throat loudly nearby. “We were there, too, you know. It wasn’t just The Aria Show.”

Kieran shoots Rachel a crooked grin, but it’s the way Aria’s lips twitch—just barely—and the faint color lingering on her cheeks that really catch my attention.

Aria never blushes.

There’s something going on between those two.

Orion is also soaked and scowling. “Glad you’re all enjoying the drama. Next time I get dragged into a river and chased by monsters, I’m sending a fucking raven ahead.”

That earns another round of laughter, and the tension finally starts to ease.

“You four should get dry,” Tarek, who has been sitting back quietly, finally says, nodding toward the tent. “There’s food as well.”

“Thank the fucking moons,” Kieran groans. “I’m starving.”

As they move indoors and I follow, I pull Aria aside, leading her to a relatively private corner of the tent.

“Are you really okay? What actually happened out there?”

Aria wipes her face with one of the towels provided, then grabs a cup of water and drinks deeply.

“It was just as Kieran said. The river split us up from you and Theron and carried us miles east. We had to spend a full day hiking back.”

“And the rogue wolves?” I press, watching her face carefully.

“Came at us just as we were nearing the valley. But we handled it.” She sounds casual, but there’s something in her voice—a slight catch, an undercurrent of tension.

As she reaches for more water, I notice a pinkish mark on her neck, partially hidden by her collar. Then another, lower down, disappearing beneath her shirt.

I lean in, eyes widening. “What is that?”

Aria blushes furiously, quickly adjusting her collar to cover the marks. Her eyes dart reflexively toward Kieran, who’s enthusiastically recounting their adventures to a group of entranced listeners.

“Oh, Aria,” I breathe, realization dawning. “Did you and he…”

“Shh! Gods, do you want to scream it for the whole world?” She glances around nervously, but no one is paying attention to us.

“What happened? Why?” I lower my voice to an urgent whisper. “What about Orion? You were crushing on him for months!”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, unable to meet my eyes. “Kieran is… he’s not what I expected. He’s actually amazing, and he flirts so well, and then we had to spend the night in the woods to rest. We caught fish and he found these mushrooms to make tea with, and maybe the mushrooms were a bit special, or the serum from that dinner was still in our system, but…” She glances around once more, then leans in close. “We fucked in the woods while the others slept!”

I gasp, though I’d already guessed as much. Aria looks simultaneously embarrassed and pleased with herself, her eyes bright with a new energy despite her exhaustion.

“He’s your enemy, you know that,” I remind her, though I can hardly throw stones, given my own situation. “In this game, at least.”

“So is Theron,” she counters, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Yeah, but at least he’s my partner for the ritual.”

“Well, we talked about it, and we’re going to help you and Theron win,” she says, surprising me.

“You talked about it?” I stare at her, not quite comprehending. “And what do your actual ritual partners think about this plan? Or the fact that you’re okay with Umbra wolves winning? As the Alpha, Theron will win, and we Elios will be second again…”

Her expression grows serious. “So, what’s your plan? To make Theron lose?”

The question pauses me. I frown, suddenly unsure.

“I don’t know. I’m torn. I don’t want Elios wolves to always come up second best, disadvantaged… but Theron…” I glance over at him, remembering the things he told me in the cave last night. His sister’s execution. His mother’s disappearance. His father’s murderous ambitions.

“But it’s a risk,” I continue slowly. “If he wins, he might be able to remove his father from leadership and find evidence of his crimes. But in the meantime, am I gambling with the lives of Elios, who struggle more each year? The lack of help from the Covenant, the unfairness, the attacks on our people that we can’t hold his father responsible for because the Covenant never takes our side…”

I feel almost sick, the weight of the choice crushing down on me.

“What if… what if I help you win instead?” The words taste like a betrayal on my tongue. I’d be betraying Theron… after everything we’ve shared.

Aria studies me for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then she sighs. “For a priestess, you have remarkably little faith in the moons.”

“What?”

“You’re always trying to control everything, plan for every outcome,” she explains, her voice gentler now. “Maybe it’s time to trust that the moons have a path laid out, even if you can’t see it yet.”

I start to open my mouth to respond?—

“Attention!” Melian stands at the center, her black robes making her seem like a piece of the night sky given form. “The Harvest Ritual trial is beginning. Everyone outside, please. Leave your belongings behind and only take what you’re wearing. Pair up with your partners.”

A ripple of tension passes through the gathered wolves as we file out of the tent into the cool evening air. The rain has slowed to a gentle drizzle, more mist than proper precipitation now. Above, the clouds have thinned enough to reveal glimpses of the twin moons—Umbra dark and full, Elios veiled in partial shadow.

We gather before the enormous gates that mark the entrance to the trial grounds. I hadn’t paid them proper attention before, too consumed with worry for Aria. Now, I stare in awe at the intricate construct—towering gates of intertwined thorns, branches as thick as my arm woven together in complex patterns that seem simultaneously natural and deliberately crafted. The thorns themselves are enormous, wickedly sharp, and faintly luminescent in the gathering darkness.

My skin ripples with goose bumps. There’s old magic here, powerful and wild, neither Umbra nor Elios but something more primal than both.

Tarek and Melian take positions before the gates, their ceremonial robes now adorned with elaborate headdresses that echo the lunar cycles.

“Before we begin,” Tarek announces, his voice carrying easily across the field. “Let us acknowledge those who did not complete the journey.”

A moment of silence falls as he names Zephyr and Maddox, offering a traditional prayer for their spirits. I lower my head, grief for my pack mate a dull ache beneath my breastbone.

“The journey to this point has tested your strength, your courage, your resourcefulness,” Melian continues once the prayer concludes. “The final trial will test something else entirely—your understanding of what truly matters.”

She gestures toward the entrance, which remains firmly closed.

“Behind these gates lies the true Bloodmoon Field—a labyrinth of choices and consequences. Each team will enter through a different path, but all paths may eventually converge. Your goal is to locate any of the five Moon Shrines hidden within and use the clues they provide to find the Onyx Moonstone.”

“The first team to retrieve the stone and return it to the Sacred Circle at the labyrinth’s center will win the leadership of the Onyx Covenant for the next ten years,” Tarek adds. “Their pack will guide both Umbra and Elios until the next Harvest Ritual.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Kieran calls out, earning a few nervous chuckles from the gathered attendees.

“Indeed, it is a race,” Melian acknowledges with a thin smile. “But not as simple as you might think. There are dangers beyond this wall that you won’t expect, so be cautious of everything you encounter.”

“There is no time limit,” Tarek explains. “But be warned—those who become lost may wander the labyrinth for months or years before finding their way out again. Some never do.”

A shiver runs through me at his words. Beside me, Theron stands tall, his expression determined rather than fearful.

“One rule above all must be observed,” Melian states firmly. “Once found, the Onyx Moonstone must be freely given to the Sacred Circle. It cannot be forced or coerced into position. Only a worthy team, acting in true harmony, will be able to complete this final task.”

Tarek steps forward, raising his arms to the thinning clouds above.

“May the twin moons guide your paths and illuminate your true purpose. May your hearts be light and your spirits strong. The Harvest Ritual’s final trial begins… now.”

With a grinding creak that vibrates through the ground beneath our feet, the massive gates begin to swing inward. Heat and shadow roll out from the opening, but it’s not total darkness—flaming torches cast a flickering glow that makes everything feel far too alive.

We’re ushered forward in pairs, each team directed to different entrances that are arched gaps carved into a towering wall of living thorns, pulsing faintly as though it breathes.

Theron is shoulder to shoulder with me, both of us staring incredulously at where our path leads. The ground dips suddenly in front of me—and my breath catches.

A vast maze sprawls below, winding paths twisting and looping so far across the valley that they disappear into shadow. The torchlight doesn’t reach the far end, leaving the edges to bleed into pitch blackness. From where I stand, it looks endless.

“Gods,” I murmur. “We’re going to get lost and die in there.”

From a few entrances down, Kieran’s voice pipes up. “Speak for yourself. I have an excellent sense of direction—just not when I’m hungry, tired, or mildly inconvenienced.”

Laughter breaks some of the tension, but only for a moment.

Beside me, Theron exhales slowly, his gaze locked on the maze as if he’s already memorizing every twist and turn.

“Stay close. The maze is alive. It will try to separate us.”

A chill creeps down my spine.

The walls tower at least fifteen feet high, constructed entirely of thorns and tangled, dried branches so dense that no light penetrates through them. The only illumination comes from small round orbs spaced along the walls at irregular intervals—like fireflies trapped in circular glass, giving off a faint, bluish glow that barely pushes back the darkness.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, stopping at the threshold. “How are we supposed to find our way through there?”

Theron takes my hand, his grip warm and steady. “Together,” he says simply. “We’ll find our way together.”

I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or fear. There is none—only determination and something else, something that makes my heart flutter despite the terror of what lies ahead.

“Are you ready?” Melian asks, standing beside our entrance.

I’m not. I’m absolutely not ready for whatever nightmare labyrinth they’ve constructed for us, but I square my shoulders and nod.

“Good luck to you both,” she states, and it almost sounds sincere. “Remember, not everything in the labyrinth is as it appears. Trust your instincts… and each other.”

With that cryptic warning, she gestures us forward. Theron steps through first, holding my hand, and I follow close behind.

The moment we cross the threshold, the world changes. The air grows thick and oddly sweet smelling while sounds become muffled as if we’re underwater. Behind us, the entrance disappears, replaced by more thorn walls, sealing us in the labyrinth completely.

“No going back now,” Theron murmurs, his voice sounding strangely distant despite his proximity.

I swallow hard, fighting down the surge of panic that threatens to overwhelm me. “Forward it is, then.”

“Stay close.” He squeezes my hand, a silent reassurance that somehow penetrates my fear. “Whatever happens in here, we face it together.”

Together . One word, so simple yet so complex given everything between us—our packs, our histories, the night in the cave, and now this final challenge that will determine the future for our pack wolves.

The path ahead splits almost immediately, offering our first choice—left or right, without any indication of which might lead to success.

Theron looks down at me, waiting. Not commanding, not deciding for us both, but genuinely waiting for my input.

“Left,” I say, trusting the instinct that whispers through me. “We go left.”

He nods, and together, we step into the unknown.

The thorns seem to shift slightly as we pass.

This is no ordinary maze. This is something ancient, something powerful, something that knows exactly who we are and what we carry within us—our hopes, our fears, our secrets.

The real trial has only just begun.