Page 212 of Moonlit Fate

“Goodbye, Atticus,” I said to him, to the man I could’ve been. “It was nice dreaming.”

With that, I turned my back on the mirror, on the possibility of another life, and prepared to face the inevitable.

I strode out of the chamber, my boots silent on the cold marble floor. The corridor was empty, the echoes of my own footsteps a stark reminder of the solitude. As I walked, my decision pressed down on me like the stones of the manor itself.

“Last chance,” I muttered, a grim mantra for what I was about to do.

I reached the door at the end of the hall sooner than I had hoped. My fate would be sealed when I walked through it. Pausing, my hand hovered over the ornate handle before grasping it firmly and pushing it open.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered under my breath.

I stepped into the ceremony room, a place where history and wealth collided in a show of power that the Crimson Fangs wore like a second skin. Above me, the vaulted ceilings were a canvas of victories and conquests, frozen in time. The crystal chandeliers hung low, soft light touching on the faces of the crowd like a gentle caress.

“Atticus, you clean up nice,” someone joked, clapping me on the back. They were oblivious to the fact that I was to be the sacrificial lamb, adorned not for celebration but for slaughter.

“Thanks,” I muttered. The velvet tablecloths, the silver, the candles… All chains of this life I would now be leading. Each flicker of candlelight caught on a goblet felt like it was mocking me.

“Isn’t this just magnificent?” another guest gushed, sweeping a hand through the air as if to gather the opulence and claim it.

“Sure is,” I lied, my smile tight. The cloying scent of exotic flowers suffocated me. They were everywhere, splashes of color that screamed life when all I could feel was the impending finality of what was to come.

“We can’t wait for the ceremony,” a voice whispered conspiratorially from behind me. “Word is your father has something special planned.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I said, locking my knees against the fear to suppress my anxiety. I turned to shake yet another hand, feeling the rough texture of a lie with each grasp. The laughter around me was a jarring symphony against thescreaming inside my head. I could almost hear the sharpening of the blade destined for my neck.

“Come on, Atticus. Lighten up! It’s a party, after all,” someone chided, nudging me playfully.

“Right, a party,” I echoed. They didn’t know, couldn’t know, that I wasn’t here to be celebrated. I was here to be sacrificed.

The murmurs dwindled as my father, the alpha, stepped up. His presence owned the room. No one dared speak over him.

“Pack, friends,” he boomed, “we gather tonight for a sacred union.”

I shifted my weight, feeling the stares.

“Tradition has its place,” he continued. “Today we set it aside for something greater.”

There were whispers, curious glances. I caught none of them. My attention was fixed on my father.

“Tonight,” he declared, “you will witness a magical mating bond. One that lasts an eternity.”

A chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t just a mating ceremony. It was a sealing of fates, unbreakable, irreversible. My throat tightened.

“Prepare yourselves for a spectacle unseen for generations.” His eyes met mine, and in them, I saw no mercy. Only determination.

The crowd erupted into excited chatter. I stood there, alone in the noise, facing my eternal binding.

52

ARIA

Iflipped urgently through another dusty book, the pages whispering of ancient spells and long-forgotten pacts. My chest tightened with each shallow inhale, the desperation a constant companion in the hallowed halls of Silver Claw manor. Books lay strewn around me like a paper ocean, each one a failed attempt at finding a sliver of hope against the darkness encroaching on us.

The silence around me was a living thing, smothering and thick, until it shattered when Lorian suddenly appeared. He phased through the ceiling as if it were made of smoke, his form solidifying gracefully on landing. The old-world charm he carried felt oddly comforting amidst the hubbub that had become my life.

“Miss Aria,” he began. “Forgive the intrusion, but I come bearing news.”

I sat up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “What is it, Lorian?”

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