The moon hung pale above Lycanthra, shrouded by thin veils of mist that glimmered like silver threads in the dark. The city no longer felt like the cage it once had. Its rhythm — the clash of training blades, the low hum of wolf-song beneath the stars — had begun to move in time with Isabella's own heartbeat.
Days had passed since Ryan's departure. His absence was both a relief and a shadow. The silence of his presence had been replaced by a softer hum — the whisper of wolves who now greeted her with cautious respect, and the rustle of parchment that filled her nights.
And always, there was the pulse.The bond between them.Dormant, but alive — like a sleeping flame waiting for breath.
The Library Reclaimed
The Library of Silver Ash was now Isabella's refuge. By day, its air was thick with the scent of parchment and ash; by night, its torches burned with a muted silver flame that never smoked. The ancient runes carved into the shelves whispered softly when touched — secrets of old, waiting to be remembered.
Lyra was already there when Isabella arrived, her wild auburn curls pinned back with a quill, ink smudged across her cheek. She looked up from a spread of open books and grinned."You're late, Your Highness. The ancestors grow impatient."
"I wasn't aware the dead kept time," Isabella replied smoothly, setting her cloak aside.
Lyra smirked. "Oh, they do. Especially when their prophecies start waking up again."
The Book of the Eclipse Pact lay between them, its cover still faintly warm. The runes that had glowed under Isabella's touch days ago were now brighter, almost alive. Every time she neared it, her pulse seemed to quicken — a strange resonance deep within her chest.
Lyra traced one of the symbols with a trembling finger. "This language is old — older than Lycanthra or Theralis. My ancestor, Selene the Pale, wrote this during the first eclipse war."Her voice lowered. "She foresaw a union that would break the curse of blood… or make it eternal."
Isabella tilted her head. "And how does one tell which fate we are moving toward?"
Lyra smiled faintly. "You, my queen, are writing that part."
They spent hours studying together. Lyra translated, Isabella interpreted — piecing together fragments of prophecy. The deeper they read, the more the runes responded, pulsing faintly with each word she spoke aloud.
One phrase stood out, repeated across several pages:
When blood and moon entwine, the dark shall remember its vow.
The words echoed through Isabella's mind long after she closed the book. Something in them called to her — something ancient, powerful, and bound to the very heart of her blood.
The Gate of the Servants
A week later, Isabella descended to the lower levels of the Citadel, where the Gate of the Servants opened into narrow lanes lined with stone cottages. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the air was filled with the scent of bread and wet fur.
This place was alive. Real.
Wolves stopped their work when they saw her. For the first time, no one looked away.
Thane was waiting by the training yard, his scar catching the light. "Your Majesty," he greeted with a small bow. "Didn't think royalty had business with us commoners."
"Then perhaps your Alpha keeps too many secrets," she said, smiling faintly.
That earned her a laugh. A few wolves even joined in, easing the tension that always followed her. She asked questions — about their lives, their work, their families. She listened. And in that simple act, walls began to crumble.
By sunset, Isabella stood in the middle of a ring of wolves, watching them spar under Thane's command. When one younger fighter stumbled, she stepped forward and adjusted his stance herself. The wolves exchanged wary glances — but none dared stop her.
"You've got a sharper eye than most generals," Thane muttered.
"Perhaps I should start commanding the army," she said with a smirk.
He grinned. "Careful, my queen. Some of them might actually follow you."
The Gate of the Fortunate
A few days later, she visited the Gate of the Fortunate — Lycanthra's merchant and noble quarter. Where the Gate of the Servants was raw and rugged, this one gleamed with wealth and order. Wolves in fine robes bowed as she passed, though their eyes gleamed with calculation rather than respect.
Still, Isabella moved among them with quiet authority.
She spoke with traders about the city's supplies, questioned a councilor about harvest routes, and even visited the orphaned pups' ward, leaving gifts of silver pendants marked with her crest.
The whispers began soon after.The Blood Queen walks among us.She doesn't fear the wolves.Maybe she is more than his prisoner.
Every rumor was a seed — and Isabella knew how to make things grow.
Echoes Across the Bond
Far from Lycanthra, beneath the crimson glow of another moon, Ryan stood on the edge of a frozen cliff. His breath came out in ragged clouds. He had run for days, trying to burn the ache from his veins, but it only grew worse.
He felt her.Every heartbeat.Every breath.Every rise of her strength.
His wolf prowled restlessly inside him.She's changing, it growled. While you hide from her scent.
Ryan's hands clenched. "I'm giving her space."
The wolf laughed — a low, taunting rumble.Space to forget you? Space to rule what's yours? You can feel it, can't you? The pack whispers her name.
Ryan's jaw tightened. The bond throbbed like a pulse beneath his skin, sharp and demanding. Each time she laughed — he heard it. Each time she dreamed — he felt it.
And when she spoke through the halls of Lycanthra, her presence echoed through him like a command he could no longer ignore.
He growled under his breath, shoving his claws into the frost. "She's mine."
The wolf's response was amused, mocking, but laced with truth.Then prove it, Alpha.
The Queen Beneath the Moon
That night, Isabella stood on the highest balcony of the Citadel. The moonlight draped over her like a crown of fire. Below her, Lycanthra breathed — alive, restless, loyal.
Her fingers brushed the mark on her wrist — the faint scar of the Blood Moon Vow. It burned faintly, as though aware of the one who had bound her.
She closed her eyes.She could feel him — distant, but near enough to stir the air around her.The bond pulsed once.Then again.
Isabella opened her eyes slowly.If he returned, she would not be the same woman he left behind.
Because now, she was more than his mate.She was his equal.And perhaps… his undoing.