The world above the High Pass was thinner.
Not just in air — but in sound. Every step echoed too far, as if the mountain itself were listening. Snow lay untouched along the ridge, smooth as glass, broken only by the narrow path that wound like a scar toward the sky.
The wolves moved in a loose formation now, no longer circling Aria with suspicion but subtly orienting themselves around her and Ronan. It was instinctive, unspoken. The mountain had judged. The pack had witnessed it.
Eryndor walked at Ronan's right, his injuries bound and his posture straighter than it had been since the Frostweald. He glanced at Aria, then at Ronan, and finally spoke.
"The High Pass never opens for liars," he said quietly. "Not in the old stories."
Ronan nodded once. "Then the mountain knows something worth knowing."
Aria pulled her cloak tighter against the biting wind. The shard beneath the fabric pulsed steadily now, no longer hot, no longer demanding — simply present. It felt like a compass needle that had found true north.
"How far to Luna's Cradle?" she asked.
Eamon lifted his gaze to the jagged skyline. "If the weather holds… two days. Less if the Devourer grows impatient."
Ronan snorted. "It's never patient."
As if summoned by the words, the wind shifted.
Not stronger — sharper.
Aria winced as a sudden pressure pressed against her skull, like fingers brushing the inside of her thoughts.
Ronan felt it too. He reached for her immediately.
"Hey. Focus on me."
She nodded, breathing slowly. "It's not attacking. It's… circling."
Eamon's expression darkened. "The Devourer has learned restraint. That is worse."
⸻
The Ridge of Oaths
They reached the Silverbound Ridge by midday.
The land narrowed into a spine of pale stone, glittering faintly beneath the ice. Carved pillars rose at intervals along the path — broken remnants of an ancient crossing, etched with names and runes half-lost to time.
Eamon stopped abruptly.
"This is sacred ground."
Ronan scanned the horizon. "I don't like sacred ground."
Aria stepped closer to one of the pillars. The rune at its center flared softly in response to her presence.
"What happened here?" she asked.
Eamon's voice lowered. "This is where the Moonborn bound their alliances. Where wolves and Moonborn once swore protection to one another. Where oaths were carved into stone… and broken."
Ronan stiffened. "Broken how?"
Eamon looked at him. "Fear. Betrayal. The Devourer did not rise in a vacuum. It was fed."
The wind howled through the pillars, carrying whispers — fragments of old vows spoken in dying breaths.
One of the younger wolves growled uneasily. "I don't like this place."
Aria closed her eyes briefly.
She felt it then — the echoes of devotion, grief, love, regret — layered so thick they pressed against her chest.
"We shouldn't linger," Ronan said.
Too late.
The pillars ignited.
Silver light burst from the carvings, leaping between the stones like lightning. The ground trembled, and the air crystallized into a translucent barrier around the ridge.
The wolves shifted instinctively.
Eamon swore under his breath. "An oath-field. It's active."
Ronan turned sharply. "Meaning?"
"It will not let us pass until something is sworn."
Aria's heart skipped. "Sworn by who?"
The light intensified.
A voice rose — not shadow, not mountain, but something older and solemn.
WHO WALKS THE RIDGE
WITHOUT DECLARING THEIR HEART?
Silence pressed down on them.
Ronan stepped forward first.
"I am Ronan Hale," he said, voice steady. "Alpha of the Frostfall Pack. I swear to defend my people with my life."
The pillars glowed faintly — but did not open.
Eamon frowned. "It wants more than leadership."
Aria swallowed.
She stepped beside Ronan.
"I am Aria Hale," she said softly. "I swear to wield my power in defense, not domination."
The light brightened — still not enough.
Eryndor moved forward, surprising everyone.
"I swear," he said roughly, "to follow my Alpha not just with teeth and claws, but with conscience. Even when fear tells me to turn away."
The pillars hummed — yet remained closed.
The voice returned.
BONDS ARE NOT DECLARED ALONE.
WHAT IS SWORN BETWEEN YOU?
Ronan froze.
Aria's breath caught.
The wolves went very still.
Eamon's eyes widened slowly. "It wants the bond acknowledged."
Ronan turned to Aria, searching her face. "Are you sure?"
She nodded, pulse hammering. "We've crossed worse."
He faced the pillars again.
"I swear," Ronan said, voice resonant and clear, "to stand with Aria Hale as her mate and equal. Not as her shield alone — but as her partner. I will not command her light, nor abandon her darkness."
Aria's chest burned — not painfully, but deeply.
She stepped forward.
"I swear," she said, voice trembling but unbroken, "to trust Ronan Hale with my life and my power. I will not push him away out of fear, nor diminish myself to spare others' comfort."
The pillars erupted in brilliant silver.
The barrier shattered like glass.
The ridge opened.
Eamon exhaled sharply. "The old alliance… reborn."
The wolves bowed their heads without being told.
⸻
The Devourer Responds
The sky darkened unnaturally.
Clouds twisted into a slow spiral above the ridge.
Aria gasped as pain flared briefly in her chest — the shard reacting violently.
"It knows," she whispered.
The Devourer's voice rolled across the mountains, distant yet deafening:
YOU REWRITE OLD OATHS…
BUT YOU CANNOT ESCAPE OLD CONSEQUENCES.
The wind screamed.
Snow lifted in violent sheets.
One of the wolves was knocked off balance, saved only by Eryndor's grip.
Ronan growled. "Show yourself!"
SOON.
The pressure vanished as suddenly as it came.
The sky cleared.
But the silence afterward was worse.
Eamon's face was pale. "It felt that oath. The Devourer feeds on broken promises. You have just starved it… and angered it."
Ronan looked at Aria. "Still with me?"
She smiled faintly, exhaustion etched into her eyes. "Always."
They moved forward again, faster now.
⸻
The Choice Ahead
As night fell, the ridge sloped downward toward a bowl-shaped valley cradled by towering peaks.
Eamon pointed ahead. "Beyond that valley lies Luna's Cradle."
Aria's breath caught. Even from this distance, she felt it — a pull like gravity, gentle but inevitable.
Ronan slowed, watching her carefully. "What do you feel?"
"Like I'm walking toward the place where everything changes," she admitted.
Eamon nodded gravely. "The Cradle will not just test her power. It will ask what kind of ending she's willing to accept."
Ronan's jaw tightened. "There will be no ending."
Eamon met his gaze. "There is always an ending. The question is who gets to choose it."
Aria stopped walking.
She turned to Ronan, eyes luminous in the moonlight.
"If I have to choose something hard," she said quietly, "I need to know you'll trust me."
Ronan took her hands without hesitation. "I already do."
She leaned into him briefly — a shared breath, a shared promise.
Above them, the moon climbed higher, pale and watchful.
Far beyond the peaks, something ancient stirred.
The Devourer was done waiting.