Page 21 of The Onyx Covenant (The Lunaterra Chronicles #2)

Chapter Seventeen

LYRA

I stand in a vast, empty space filled with silver mist. There’s no ground beneath my feet, no sky above, just an endless swirling fog that glows with the gentle radiance of moonlight. I don’t remember how I got here or where here even is. The last thing I recall is falling asleep in the maze clearing with Theron keeping watch.

The mist before me begins to gather and condense, forming a figure of pure light. Its shape is never constant, flowing and shifting. The glow it emanates matches exactly the intense silver-blue light that adorns the sacred walls in the inner sanctum of the moon priestess temple. The light pulses like a heartbeat, sending waves of energy rippling through the mist around me.

This can only be one being—the Elios Moon God, the ancient deity our pack has worshipped since the First Pack split. I’ve seen the carved images in the sacred chambers where only high priestesses are allowed, chambers I snuck into as a child, hungry for knowledge forbidden to me.

“You have to give in to him,” a voice resonates, not through my ears but directly into my mind. “Help Theron win.”

My shoulders pull back instinctively, rejection immediate. “What? But then our pack—my pack—the Elios will lose again.” The words taste like ash on my tongue. “Is that what you want? For Umbra to dominate us once more?” I’m starting to wonder if this is some trickery by the Umbra moon.

The light shifts, patterns changing, almost like expressions crossing a face. “Your distrust, your indecision, is what is blocking you and will continue to do so. You will be stuck in this maze for eternity until you choose.”

“Choose what?” I demand, feeling a surge of anger. “To betray my people? To submit to Umbra rule?”

“Trust him. Help him win.” The figure’s light dims slightly, then flares brighter. “The path forward requires blood and trust. Old divisions must fall for new growth to emerge.”

I shake my head, feeling the weight of generations of conflict pressing down on me.

“You don’t understand. It’s not that simple. If Umbra wins ? —”

“If Theron wins,” the figure corrects, and somehow, I know the distinction is crucial.

The luminous being pulses. “Your path lies not in the outcomes you fear but in the unity you have forgotten. Five rights. That is your path.”

“Five rights?” I repeat, confusion momentarily displacing my internal turmoil. “What does that mean?”

The being doesn’t answer.

“Why should I trust him?” I challenge, thinking of how Theron broke my heart, how he chose his pack over me once before. So, he could do it again, right? Yet the thought alone aches deep under my rib cage. “He’s Umbra. His father wants me dead.”

“ He is not his father,” the light pulses more intensely. “And you are more than your pack designation.”

I feel myself beginning to spiral into deeper confusion. “But my people ? —”

“Will suffer if the division continues,” the being interrupts. “As will his. As will all.”

The images shift again, showing me glimpses of a future I don’t want to see—bodies strewn across contested territories, children crying, blood soaking into soil that yields no harvest.

“This is what awaits if the old hatreds persist.” The voice grows somber. “This is what your indecision feeds.”

“That’s not fair,” I protest, feeling tears burn behind my eyes. “This isn’t my responsibility alone.”

“No,” the being agrees. “But your choice now will determine if change becomes possible. Your destiny is within your grasp, Lyra Mooncrest. Not as an Elios victory or an Umbra defeat, but as something new entirely.”

I close my eyes, trying to center myself amid the chaos of emotions. My loyalty to my pack wars with my feelings for Theron, with my own ambitions, and with the weight of expectations I’ve carried my entire life.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admit, voice cracking. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

The light pulses gently now, almost comforting. “You need to let go.”

“Let go of what?” I whisper.

“Of who you believe you should be. Of the boundaries that limit what you could become.”

As the being speaks, I feel something within me shifting, like a key turning in a lock I didn’t know existed. The silver light grows brighter, enveloping me completely, and I feel myself falling, spinning ? —

I gasp awake, the sensation of falling jerking me back to consciousness. Instead of hitting the ground, I feel strong arms catch and cradle me against a solid chest. Theron. His scent fills my senses as my eyes flutter open.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his silvery gaze smiling at the corners. “You’re back. Thought I’d lost you.”

“What… what happened?” My voice comes out raspy, my throat dry.

“You don’t remember?” Theron asks, helping me stand, though his hands linger on my arms as if worried I might collapse again.

Kieran hovers nearby, his usual cocky expression replaced by something close to awe. “You went full moon priestess on us. Floating, glowing, the whole ancestral spirit package.” He gestures vaguely at my face. “Your brow is still doing the glow thing, by the way.”

I reach up, feeling warmth under my fingertips, where the most intricate of my priestess markings trace a delicate pattern across my forehead.

“You were possessed or something,” Kieran continues, keeping a careful distance. “That’s some serious priestess shit, even for an Elios.” Despite his flippant words, I can see he’s genuinely unsettled. “I was expecting you to start prophesying the end of the world or demanding virgin sacrifices.”

“Shut up, Kieran,” Theron growls.

I take a steadying breath, images from my vision still vivid in my mind. “I think I just spoke with the Elios Moon God.”

“The what now?” Kieran blinks.

“The deity of my pack,” I clarify. “At least, I think that’s who it was. A being of light, ancient, powerful.”

Theron’s expression grows serious. “What did it want?”

I look at him, really look at him, at the man who once held my heart and perhaps never truly relinquished his claim on it. The vision’s message echoes in my mind.

“I need to be honest,” I say, the words feeling like stones in my throat. “I’ve been struggling with something…” I pause, gathering courage. “I’ve been battling with the idea of you winning, with my pack coming second again, with whether I should ensure Aria and Orion win instead.”

Theron’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes darkens. He says nothing, just watches me, his jaw tight.

“Don’t ask me how I could do it, but I’ve been torn,” I continue, needing to get this out. “Part of me has been holding back, wondering if I should sabotage our chances.”

A muscle twitches in Theron’s jaw as he glances down, then back up at me. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions.

“I think it’s been holding me back, us back,” I admit. “Working against everything we’ve accomplished together. It goes against everything I want for myself, but…” I take a deep breath. “The vision showed me that I need to help you win. That it’s what the Elios Moon God wants. This must be a vision for a reason, right?”

Theron is quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“I can’t say it doesn’t hurt to hear that, Lyra, but I can’t blame you.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “The division between our packs has brought up so much anger and hatred when we should be one. That’s my goal—to unite the packs, not suppress yours.”

I blink at his sincerity. He’s hinted at similar things before, but I wasn’t sure how he would actually ever achieve that without a full-out war.

“But your father…” I start. “And the others who don’t want that…”

“Will have to be dealt with,” Kieran interrupts, stepping closer. His amber eyes burn with determination. “Listen, Lyra, you just had a fucking divine vision. A god spoke to you. So let’s go change this shit.” He grins suddenly, wild and reckless. “Fuck the old farts. We have a god on our side!”

Despite everything, I feel a laugh bubble up from somewhere deep inside me.

Theron steps closer, his eyes finding mine, unwavering.

“Then we do this together, all the way,” he says, his voice low and resolute. “No more doubts between us. My father, the packs, all of it—we face it as one.” He extends his hand to me, a gesture that carries more weight than words could express. I accept it, and he drags me into a powerful hug. I melt into it, and my next breath hiccups all the way down to my lungs.

“The vision gave me a message,” I say, remembering. “ Five rights. That’s what it said is our path.”

Theron’s brow furrows in thought. “Could be as simple as us taking five right turns on our journey.” He gestures to where the maze has created a new passage before us. “Let’s try it.”

We set off, following the cleared path. At the first junction, we take a right, then another, and another. The maze seems to be cooperating, offering us exactly the turns we need. After the fourth right turn, a sense of anticipation builds in my chest.

“One more,” I murmur as we approach another fork.

We take the fifth right turn—and find nothing. Just another winding passage that seems to lead deeper into the maze.

“What the fuck?” Kieran mutters, looking around in confusion. “There’s nothing here.”

We continue forward, hoping for some sign, some indication that we’re on the right path, but the passage only narrows, eventually leading to a dead end—a solid wall of thorns that blocks our way completely.

“That’s it?” Kieran kicks at the ground in frustration. “Your god gave us directions to a fucking wall?”

Theron approaches the wall, examining it closely. “Maybe there’s something we’re missing.” He turns to me. “What else did the vision say? Anything that might help us?”

I close my eyes, trying to recall every word, every image. “Something about blood. I think it needs blood.”

Before either of them can stop me, I step forward and press my palm against the thorny wall. Sharp points pierce my skin, and I wince but don’t pull away. Blood wells from the small wounds, bright red against my pale skin, and drips onto the plants.

“Lyra!” Theron rushes to my back but doesn’t move me.

My blood seeps into the thorns, disappearing as if absorbed by the very material of the wall. For a moment, nothing happens. Then a pulse of silver light, similar to the one in my vision, spreads from where my hand touches the thorns, racing along the wall in all directions.

The deadly thorns begin to soften, to change. Green shoots emerge, unfurling into leaves, then buds, and then flowers of impossible beauty—blossoms that glow with faint silver light, that seem to sing without sound as they open to the morning sun. The transformation is breathtaking.

The wall isn’t disappearing—it’s transforming, becoming something alive, vibrant, and welcoming instead of a barrier.

“Holy shit,” Kieran breathes, his usual sarcasm abandoned in the face of the marvel before us.

I feel a strange draining sensation, as if the wall is pulling more than just the blood from my cuts. My vision begins to blur at the edges, my knees weakening.

“It’s taking too much,” I gasp, suddenly unable to pull away from the wall, my head spinning. The flowers continue to spread, more and more of them erupting along the thorny surface, but my strength is fading with each new bloom.

“Lyra!” Theron’s voice seems to come from far away. Strong hands grasp my shoulders, pulling me back, breaking my connection to the transformed wall.

I stumble into his arms, the world spinning around me. “I’m okay,” I mumble, though I’m not sure that’s true. My head feels light, my limbs heavy.

“You’re not okay,” Theron growls, his arms tightening around me. “What the fuck was that?”

Before I can answer, a sound like stone grinding against stone fills the air. We turn to see the flowered wall sliding aside, revealing a hidden passage beyond.

Kieran peers into the darkness. “Looks like your blood sacrifice worked.”

With Theron’s help, I stand straighter, fighting off the lingering weakness.

“Let’s go,” I suggest, determination returning. “We’ve come too far to stop now.”

We step through the opening into a small chamber hewn from ancient stone. The walls are covered in carvings—the old language, symbols that even I, trained in the temple, barely recognize.

And there, in the center of the chamber, bathed in a shaft of sunlight, rests an object that makes my breath catch.

The Onyx Moonstone.

Not the key we found earlier, but what the key was meant to unlock. A perfect sphere of translucent crystal that seems to contain the essence of moonlight within it, swirling, alive, and calling to something deep within me.

It rests in an elaborate cradle of interwoven silver and obsidian branches. The branches form a complex cage around the stone, with narrow gaps between them just barely wide enough to glimpse the treasure within. The entire structure sits atop a circular pedestal carved with ancient symbols.

Small thorns protrude from the metallic branches, positioned in a way that makes simply reaching in impossible without being pierced from multiple angles.

“Well, that’s just fucking perfect,” Kieran mutters, eyeing the apparatus. “Why can’t anything ever be simple?”