~Savannah's POV~
The Luna ascension rite belongs to the Moon-kingdom alone. We have waited for it for years. With patience. With prayers. Even now, when it comes wrapped in pain, no one dares refuse it.
The courtyard of the Alpha and Elders Hall is full. Not all the pack is invited, yet the number here feels endless. The council and some elders stand at one side. A few horses are tied near them, restless on the stone. Ordinary pack members gather opposite. Warriors form a ring around us.
Some faces shine. Others are carved from stone.
I stand beside Hector on his left. His hand grips mine so tight my fingers ache. Guards press in close. Every gaze fixes on us.
The Alpha and Luna seats sit empty behind us. We have not sat down yet.
Three elders come forward. Brynn. Eamon. Thalia.
Eamon bends and traces an incomplete circle of ash on the ground.
"An incomplete circle is a public warning," he says. "It marks that the pack does not fully accept the bond. The revelation is not complete until the mate-bond binding ritual. Still, we proceed with the Luna ascension by our tradition."
The words land like a stone. I turn to Hector. He does not blink. He knows this. I do not.
Eamon places candles and animal bones around the ring. He sets a small clay jar of water at one side. Beside it, a calabash of fresh sheep's blood.
The smell reaches me. Metal and earth.
Eamon lifts his voice to the crowd. "Today is a special day, though it comes with sorrow. Today we crown our prophesied Luna, our messenger. She will bear meaning when the time comes. Not for Moon-kingdom alone, but for all packs. We are blessed, even if the hour is bitter."
"Are you ready to welcome the messenger?" he asks.
The crowd forces out, "Yes."
Not every mouth moves. Not every heart consents. Anders stares at the soil. His jaw tightens. He shakes his head once. The grief sits in him like a stone.
A small warmth rises in me at the sound of assent. Then I see the faces of the victims' families. Their eyes hollow. The warmth dies.
Brynn calls, "Our Luna, step into the ash."
Hector loosens his grip and leans close. "Move," he whispers. "Breathe."
I step. My side tugs with every pace. The healer's work eases but does not erase the pain. I kneel inside the ash.
Thalia turns to Hector. "Do you claim her?"
"I do." His voice is calm.
"Do you accept her shadow as your own?"
He pauses a breath that only I feel. "I do."
The elders close round. Thalia warns softly, "Do not look up, especially the pups." Eyes lower. Silence thickens.
Brynn raises his voice. "The firmament is open. The ritual is welcomed. Proceed."
We speak the slogan seven times. "The moon gives us power. The firmament restrains it." The words thrum through my bones.
Eamon begins an incantation. The sound wraps around us and grows. When he finishes, he draws a blade from the sacred calabash.
"Savannah is revealed as Luna of Moon-kingdom, messenger to the packs. We honor the Moon Goddess for this blessing. May she be done."
He slices my palm.
Pain cuts. Blood beads and falls onto the ash.
"My Alpha," Eamon says, "your presence is needed."
Without looking up, Hector crosses the ash and takes my bleeding hand in his. Blood touches blood.
Tonight the moon is a heavy waning gibbous. It leans low and bright. Light slants through clouds and lands on us. The circle glows while the rest of the courtyard dims.
For one long breath everything holds.
Then the sound comes. Deep and low. Not human. Not only wolves. A single, collective groan rolls through every throat. Warriors answer it. The elders answered it. Even the horses make a low sound.
My heart jerks.
The candles still burn. The ash does not scatter. The bones remain.
"What does this mean?" someone whispers. "All wolves groan at once. The candles did not die. The ash did not fly. The bones did not crack. Impossible."
Thalia's voice tightens. "The firmament… I have never seen an answer like this. Unless the firmament is closed."
Closed. The word tastes wrong in my mouth. My stomach tightens. It feels like a warning.
Eamon says, "Continue."
Brynn tells me to put my right hand in the water and my left in the blood. I obey. The water is cool; the blood is thick and warm.
"Repeat after me," he says.
"In the center of the ash, the bones and the lights of our ancestors; I touch their water, I touch their blood. I accept this covenant. I vow I will never betray the pack. I will stand by Moon-kingdom in its worst hours. If I betray, I face the consequences. I bond with all the ancient Lunas, especially Luna Catherine."
My voice holds.
Brynn leads me to call out her name seven times. "The ancient Luna Catherine."
"The ancient Luna Catherine."
"The ancient Luna Catherine—"
On the third call something moves through me. Not possession. Not theft. A force like a pressed storm bears down. My ribs feel compacted. My knees burn as if heavy stone rests on them.
Hector's free hand flies to his stomach. He bends, then doubles over, and vomits blood onto the ash.
Not again, I think — I have seen that tremor before, a ghost at the edge of his mouth after certain rites. I had not wanted to name it, but it is a pattern. My throat tightens at the sight.
"Do not look up!" Eamon roars. Hands fly to faces. Some scream. Some drop to their knees. The pressure squeezes, then eases.
When it lifts, silence sits like a wound.
Hector straightens. He wipes blood from his mouth. He looks pale, but he stands firm.
The candles burn on. The ash holds. The bones lie unchanged.
A voice near me says, "Incredible. She must be the messenger."
An old man spits a darker thought to his neighbor. "Or witchcraft. She fools us."
Anders' fingers go slack. His staff falls from his hand like a dropped oath.
The elders gape. Questions fill the air.
Hector lifts his voice, steady as a blade. "Do not panic. If none of us can explain this, then the Moon can. This is a sign."
Brynn steps close. "Remove your left hand from the blood. Wash it in the water."
I do. Red tides away.
"Beta," Hector calls.
Lila moves without looking up. She holds a Luna cloak, a silver cloak mixed with black. She stops at the edge of the incomplete circle and hands it to Hector.
He helps me stand. My legs wobble. He settles the cloak on my shoulders.
"Savannah of Moon-kingdom," he says, loud so the far rows hear, "rise as Luna."
One by one the elders kneel. Then the warriors. Then the pack. Stone meets knee. The sound of so many bodies bending is like distant thunder.
Eamon says we must remain in the circle for seven minutes before we take our seats. Drums begin. Thalia counts quietly under her breath. Seven minutes stretch thin.
When the count finishes, a guard bursts through the gate on horseback. He rides hard, breath ragged, eyes wide.
"The statue of Luna Catherine is burning!"
Heat and a curl of smoke rise beyond the gates. The courtyard goes cold. People cry out. The smoke reflects orange across elders' faces and throws their eyes like coals.
The incomplete ash circle glows in the moonlight, and for a moment I feel every eye weighing me as if I could be the spark or the reason for the flame.