Chapter 25. Ritual of Binding

The Moon Priestess didn’t wear white.

She wore ash-gray, robes weathered from age and ritual smoke. Her hair was silver, her skin marked with faded glyphs of old bonds made and severed. When she walked into the chamber beneath Stormfang’s heart, even the fire in Neriah’s chest dimmed.

The room was carved from stone—circular, moonlight filtering down through a narrow shaft in the ceiling. Salt lines ringed the perimeter. No weapons. No wolves. Just her, the Priestess, and Caius. Already waiting.

He stood near the center, eyes shadowed, spine taut. The bond pulsed like an exposed nerve between them. It didn’t tug or ache anymore. It burned.

The Priestess spoke without ceremony.

“You two stand upon the faultline of the world.”

Neriah said nothing. Caius watched the ground.

The Priestess approached Neriah first. “You carry flame inside you. It will devour or deliver.”

Then to Caius: “You carry guilt. And guilt is a shackle the soul wears p