Chapter 28. The Blood Oath

Mairead descended alone into the ruins of the forgotten altar.

The path wound down in a spiral, carved through stone older than bone. Every step echoed—not in sound, but in pressure, like the mountain was holding its breath.

The altar’s chamber was cold. Not from air. From memory.
The stones pulsed faintly in the moonlight, alive with whispers of wolves long dead. They were carved in concentric circles—each ring older than the last, as if the mountain recorded time in spirals, not lines.

She didn’t come to pray.
She came to bind.

Behind her, Letha stood at the threshold, hood drawn low. She held a scroll inked in Mairead’s own blood, sealed with ash. Her hands trembled slightly, though her voice did not.

“You don’t have to do this,” Letha said, soft as breath.

“I do,” Mairead replied. “They won’t lis