Page 6 of The Onyx Covenant (The Lunaterra Chronicles #2)

Chapter Four

LYRA

N ight crawls across the sky as I stand at the edge of the Onyx Covenant grounds, the moons already high and casting their dual glow—Elios veiled in silver mist, Umbra cloaked in shadow. The air feels electric, charged with the approaching chaos.

The enormous clearing surrounding the Covenant building stretches before us, an expanse of ancient cobblestones worn smooth by centuries of rituals and ceremonies. Tall pine trees encircle the area like silent guardians. Torches line the perimeter, their flames dancing wildly as if sensing the tension that hangs in the air.

My parents have just arrived, their faces grim in the flickering light. We remain within the shelter of the trees, not yet exposed to the dozens of wolves I know await us in the clearing. Father pauses, glancing around to ensure we have relative privacy, though I’m aware of Theron standing about thirty feet away, providing us space while still remaining within the required distance. I appreciate his discretion.

“Lyra,” Father says. “I need you to understand the gravity of what’s happening.”

I glance down at the manacle encircling my wrist. The black metal seems to absorb the moonlight rather than reflect it, save for the thin veins of silver. I’ve seen these artifacts in ceremonies my entire life but never imagined wearing one, especially not one that connects me to an Umbra wolf.

“I understand,” I reply, running my finger along the smooth edge of the manacle. “But the binding is already complete.”

“The Onyx Covenant must reverse this.” Father shakes his head, concern etching deep lines around his mouth. “They will. You aren’t trained for the trials that lie ahead, Lyra. The Harvest Ritual claims lives every year—seasoned warriors who’ve prepared their entire lives.”

“I’m not as helpless as you think,” I say, the words sounding small even to my own ears.

He frowns, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t about being helpless. You are a priestess in training, a calling highly revered above even our Nightblades. Your path serves our pack in different ways.”

“But I’m nineteen,” I argue, straightening my spine. “Old enough to make my own decisions.”

“No.” Father’s voice firms, though his eyes remain kind. “Not while you’re under pack rule. Like everyone else, you follow our laws—laws that have kept us safe for generations.”

Mother steps closer, her hand finding mine. “He only wants to protect you, Lyra. We both do.”

I want to argue further, but the words die in my throat. They can’t understand what this means to me, this unexpected chance to prove myself, to be more than just the Alpha’s sheltered daughter. And they certainly can’t understand the storm of emotions Theron’s actions have unleashed inside me.

Betrayal. Anger. Confusion.

“We should join the others,” Mother says softly. “The Covenant is waiting.”

As we emerge from the tree line, the full force of the gathering hits me. The clearing is packed with wolves from both packs, carefully maintaining distance from each other, the invisible boundary between Elios and Umbra territory evident even here on neutral ground. Conversation dies as we pass, curious gazes following our progress across the cobblestones.

I hold my head high, refusing to shrink under their scrutiny. Let them stare. Let them whisper. I may not have asked for this, but I won’t cower from it, either.

My parents stride toward the imposing obsidian structure of the Covenant building, where the members wait on the steps, their black robes blending into the night. I follow several paces behind, and my attention is drawn to the other participants gathered near the entrance.

The champions stand around chatting. Theron joins his friends. He’s taller than the others, his broad shoulders and lean frame accentuated by the fitted black shirt and tight-fighting pants he wears. A curved blade hangs at his belt, and his wild black hair flutters in the breeze.

“Lyra!” Aria’s voice rings out, and I turn to her jogging toward me, her face bright with excitement. Unlike the formal ceremonial attire most have chosen for this gathering, she’s dressed practically in fitted leathers, ready for action at a moment’s notice. Unlike me, still in my simple blue dress with silver embroidery along the hem. I’d insisted on stopping at home before coming to the Covenant grounds to change my clothes, making him wait outside while I traded a constricting dress for something I could at least move in. A simple knee-length dress with a black belt cinched at my waist that holds a small dagger—barely ceremonial, but better than nothing.

“There you are,” she says, embracing me quickly. “I thought you might not come.”

“Did I have a choice?” I hold up my wrist, displaying the manacle that binds me to Theron. “The moment he bound me, I couldn’t leave the grounds even if I wanted to. Not unless I want to be injected with poison from the manacle. You’ve heard the stories of what happens when Harvest Ritual couples stay apart for too long.”

Aria’s eyes widen, too busy focusing on my wristband than my words. “Holy shit, it’s real. I heard the rumors, but… by the Veiled Moon, Lyra, how did this happen?”

I shrug, unable to explain what I don’t understand myself. “He grabbed my arm, and the manacle just… appeared.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work. The manacles only bind compatible champions and Omegas from the same pack.” Her gaze narrows suspiciously. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless there’s more between you two than you’re letting on.” She studies my face closely, and I’m reminded of Mother’s suspiciousness. “He’s the one, isn’t he? The reason you’ve been moping around for the past year?”

I hesitate, then nod once, the admission feeling like surrender.

“I knew it!” Aria exclaims. “It all makes sense now. But Theron Shadowmane? Seriously? You couldn’t have fallen for someone less… I don’t know, lethal?”

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” I mutter, unable to stop myself from glancing in his direction again. He’s watching me. A shiver runs down my arms.

“Can’t blame you, though,” Aria continues, following my gaze. “Look at him, all broody and mysterious with those shoulders and chest. And the way he moves… No wonder half the females in both packs are drooling over him.” She nudges me playfully. “How’d you two even meet? Secret rendezvous in the forbidden zone?”

Despite everything, I feel my lips curving into a small smile. “He almost shot me with an arrow.”

“What?”

“I was gathering moonberries near the border. He was hunting, didn’t see me until the last second, and redirected his shot. The arrow missed me by inches.” I pause, remembering the moment—the shock on his face, the immediate regret, the strange tension that sprang between us like lightning. “We started talking, and something just… happened. Like I couldn’t bear to be away from him.”

“Instant attraction.” Aria nods sagely. “The most dangerous kind.”

“Not that it matters now,” I state. “He showed his true colors a year ago. There’s nothing between us.”

“Sure doesn’t seem that way,” she replies, glancing meaningfully toward Theron.

I make the mistake of looking up, meeting his gaze directly. The intensity in his stare sends heat flooding through me. I glance away quickly, cursing myself for the reaction.

“It’s complicated,” I say finally, the understatement of the century.

Aria holds up her own manacle, changing the subject. “Well, I’m officially in, too. Orion chose me as his Omega. Can you believe it?” Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “The top warrior in Elios, and he picked me!”

I force myself to focus on her news, genuinely happy for my friend despite my own turmoil. “Of course he did. You’re the best fighter. I know you’ll make our pack proud.” I squeeze her hand. “Just stay alive, okay?”

“Please,” Aria scoffs. “You know me better than that. I’m too stubborn to die in some ancient ritual.” She studies me for a moment. “The real question is, what are you going to do? Are you really going through with this?”

I stare down at the manacle. Am I? The thought of participating in the Harvest Ritual terrifies me. I’ve trained in secret with Aria, yes, but nothing approaching actual danger. And being bound to Theron adds layers of complication I can barely begin to untangle.

I’m torn in a way I’ve never felt before, caught between fear and pride, duty and desire. Between the safety of the path carved out for me… and the chaos that waits beyond it. And then there’s Theron. The sting of his betrayal still claws at me, even after a year. I still see him with her, the woman his father deemed more suitable. Like I was never even a choice.

“I don’t know,” I admit, the weight of indecision heavy on my shoulders. “Part of me wants to run as far from this as possible. Another part wants to prove I can do this, that I’m more than just a priestess reciting prayers in a temple.”

“And another part?” Aria prompts gently. “The part that still feels something for him?”

I close my eyes briefly. “That’s the part I trust least of all.”

A hush falls over the gathering, drawing our attention to the steps of the Onyx Covenant. Tarek and Melian Nightsinger stand side by side. Though not related by blood, their matching ceremonial black robes and synchronized movements give them an eerie, otherworldly quality. Both in their thirties, they emanate power and authority that silence even the most contentious voices.

“Champions and Omegas of Elios and Umbra,” Tarek calls, his words carrying effortlessly across the clearing. “The hour of selection has arrived.”

My parents stand before them, alongside Magnus Shadowmane. The contrast between the two families could not be more stark—my parents with their light coloring and concerned expressions, and Magnus, dark and imposing, radiating barely contained hostility.

“The Harvest Ritual is our most sacred tradition,” Melian continues in a melodic yet powerful tone. “Through it, we honor the moons that guide us and select those who will join the Onyx Covenant to lead our packs through the next ten years.”

My pulse quickens as I listen. Controlling the Onyx Covenant has always been crucial to our packs. It gives the pack controlling the Covenant final authority to decide on pack disputes and to negotiate trade agreements with neighboring countries that subtly favor their pack’s interests, even while representing our entire nation. They also have the right to command joint hunting expeditions and distribute the spoils during the harsh winter months in their favor. No wonder Father’s been preparing our pack warriors for this moment all year.

“We are aware of the unusual situation that has arisen,” Tarek states, his gaze scanning the crowd until they find me. “A binding has taken place between members of different packs.”

Murmurs sweep through the gathering like wind through the surrounding pines. The weight of dozens of stares grows heavier on me. Beside me, Aria stands a little straighter, a silent show of support.

“Alpha Mooncrest has requested this binding be dissolved,” Melian announces. “Alpha Shadowmane has demanded the same.”

My father steps forward. “My daughter is a priestess, not a warrior. This binding places her in grave danger unnecessarily.”

“And such a mixing of bloodlines violates our most ancient traditions,” Magnus Shadowmane adds. “The ritual is meant to select the strongest pair from each pack, not create abominations that blur the lines between Elios and Umbra.”

I flinch at his words, and Aria’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.

“We have consulted the sacred texts,” Tarek replies calmly. “We have communed with both moons.”

Melian raises her hands, silver light emanating from her palms. “The manacles are not mere metal but manifestations of the moons’ will. They respond to compatibility on the deepest level—soul to soul, heart to heart. That such a pairing has occurred between Elios and Umbra is unprecedented but not impossible.

“Perhaps,” she continues, “this is a sign that the divide between our packs is not as absolute as we have believed. Perhaps the moons themselves seek to bring us together rather than keep us apart.”

“This is blasphemy,” Magnus growls. “The Umbra moon would never sanction such a union.”

“And yet,” Melian replies with quiet authority, “the manacle bearing the mark of Umbra now rests on your son’s wrist, bound to a daughter of Elios. Would you claim to know the moon’s will better than the moon itself, Alpha Shadowmane?”

Magnus falls silent, though the fury in his eyes speaks volumes.

My father glances over at me, then back to the Covenant members. “What of my daughter’s safety? The other champions have trained their entire lives for this ritual. Lyra has not.”

“The manacle would not have chosen her if she were truly incapable,” Tarek responds. “Perhaps there is more to your daughter than even you have seen, Alpha Mooncrest.”

My heart swells at these words, even as fear continues to gnaw at my insides.

“Our decision is made,” Melian declares. “The binding stands. Lyra Mooncrest and Theron Shadowmane will participate in the Harvest Ritual as bound partners.”

Magnus steps forward, his huge frame radiating menace. “And when this… experiment fails? When the ritual is corrupted by this aberration?”

“Then we will bear responsibility,” Tarek says simply. “But the will of the moons cannot be denied, Alpha Shadowmane. Not even by you.”

For a moment, I think Magnus might challenge them, but he merely inclines his head in a mockery of respect and steps back, his crimson eyes finding mine across the distance. The message in them is clear: This isn’t over.

I swallow hard.

“Now,” Melian continues. “Let the remaining selections proceed. Champions, step forward with your Omegas.”

The Covenant members take records of each couple. When that’s complete, Tarek raises his hands for silence.

“The Harvest Ritual will commence at midnight tomorrow. Everything you need will be provided.”

“All champions and their Omegas must remain on the Covenant grounds from this moment forward,” Melian continues. “The binding magic requires proximity—no more than fifty paces between bound pairs at any time. Behind the Covenant building are lodgings where you will stay tonight, simple quarters with separate rooms for each pack, though none larger than thirty feet in any direction, offering ample space to accommodate for the binding’s constraints.”

“Training will commence at dawn. Families and friends must depart within the hour. Say your farewells now,” Tarek adds.

With those words, the two Onyx Covenant members turn as one and disappear into the building, the obsidian doors closing behind them with a sound like distant thunder.

The crowd begins to disperse, champions and their chosen Omegas huddling together to discuss strategy, families offering last-minute advice. My father approaches, his anger now replaced with quiet resignation.

“I wish we had more time,” he says. “But it seems the moons have other plans.”

I nod, suddenly exhausted. “I know.”

“I’ll help her get ready,” Aria offers.

Father hesitates, then nods. “Very well.” He embraces me, his arms strong and secure around my shoulders. “Whatever happens, know that we are proud of you, Lyra. And we will be waiting when you return.”

When, not if. The confidence in his voice brings tears to my eyes, which I quickly blink away. “Thank you, Father.”

Mother presses a small pouch into my hand. “Moondust,” she whispers. “For protection. Use it wisely.” She kisses my forehead and steps back. “Trust your instincts, Lyra. They’ve never led you astray.”

“We’ll be watching from the ceremonial viewing area until you leave for your mission.” Father adds, “Remember your strength.”

With final embraces, they turn to leave, joining the other departing families. I watch them go, feeling suddenly adrift despite the dozens of people still milling around the clearing.

“Well,” Aria says once they’re out of earshot. “That was intense. Ready to become a warrior overnight?”

I glance across the clearing to where Theron stands. I hate how my breath catches. It’s not just the pull between us—though there’s still that, damn him—it’s something deeper. As if we both know there’s no going back from this moment.

All entrants start moving to the structures behind the onyx building.

“Come on.” Aria tugs me in that direction, too. “We should check out our quarters and get you ready for tomorrow.”

I follow her, acutely aware that Theron isn’t too far behind, alone, more of the contestants, including Orion, farther behind coming this way. I see how Orion stares at Nadia, another Elios Omega. I wonder if Aria noticed?

Turning back around, I take in a shaky breath. This is actually happening.

And the weird thing is that beneath all the fear and anger, there’s a spark of excitement I can’t quite squash. Like maybe, finally, I get to show everyone who I really am.

And if Theron Shadowmane thinks I’m going to make this easy for him, he’s about to learn just how wrong he is.