Page 68 of The Onyx Covenant

We secure our packs more tightly, preparing to shift. Lyra rolls her shoulders, loosening muscles still sore from yesterday’s ordeal.

“Stay close to me out there,” I tell her. “I don’t trust the quiet.”

“I’m not the one who needs protection,” she tells me. “I wasn’t the one who died last night.”

“Don’t remind me,” I grimace, touching the spot where my wound had been. “Still can’t believe you fed me your blood.”

“Saved your ass, didn’t it?”

“That it did.” I glance at her, suddenly serious. “Thank you. For that, for listening, for… everything.”

She holds my gaze, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go win a ritual.”

ChapterTwelve

LYRA

Rain slices through the air like daggers, pelting my fur until it hangs heavy against my skin. The storm came out of nowhere. Now, each step is a battle against the weather’s fury and the treacherous mountain path beneath our paws. The ground has turned to slick mud, threatening to send us sliding back down with every careful movement.

Theron presses forward ahead of me, his black form barely visible in the sheets of rain.

We’ve been trekking since dawn, exhausted and drenched, with no sign of our friends. The raging river tore us apart last night, and I’ve been scanning for any trace of them since we started going uphill, but the downpour has washed away any scent trails that might have guided us.

In that frozen moment, I smell the metallic scent of blood. Dread curls in my chest.

As thunder cracks overhead, splitting the sky with a blinding flash that illuminates the forest for a heartbeat, I catch sight of something that doesn’t belong—a splash of unnatural color against the browns and greens of the forest floor.

I halt, my instincts screaming caution even as curiosity drives me forward. Theron senses my change in direction and circles back, a low, questioning rumble vibrating in his chest.

The rain parts for just a moment, and I see it clearly.

A body.

Not just any body. The blue uniform of Elios clings to the lifeless form, now sodden and dark with rain and something else—blood, so much blood. I step closer, my heart hammering against my rib cage, praying to both moons that it isn’t Aria.

It’s not, but the recognition hits me hard.

Zephyr Talonblade.

One of our pack’s warriors, renowned for his speed and precision. Now, he lies broken on the forest floor, his skull caved in on one side, congealed blood matting his light brown hair. His eyes stare unseeing at the storm-darkened sky, his mouth frozen in what might have been a final scream.

I shift into my human form without conscious thought, the change rippling through me in a painful wave. Dropping to my knees beside Zephyr, a keening sound escapes my throat.

“No, no, no…” I reach out with trembling fingers, touching his face, already knowing it’s too late. His skin is cold, the spark of life long fled.

Zephyr’s Omega, Kay, is nowhere in sight. I pray she got away, that she’s still running. Because if she didn’t… I force down the panic clawing at my throat. The ritual doesn’t pause for grief. But with him gone, if she survived, it’s up to her to finish the Harvest Ritual. Alone.

Theron shifts beside me, his human form materializing. He doesn’t speak, just places a steadying hand on my shoulder as I struggle to process what I’m seeing.

The wound on Zephyr’s temple is grotesque—not a clean cut from a blade or a puncture from claws, but a massive crushing injury. Whatever hit him did so with tremendous force, shattering bone and pulping the flesh beneath.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I whisper, bile rising in my throat.

Theron kneels beside me, his eyes scanning our surroundings. “We need to keep moving, Lyra,” he says, his voice low and urgent. “I think we’re in troll territory.”

“We can’t just leave him here,” I protest, even as the rational part of my mind acknowledges the truth in Theron’s words. “He deserves a proper burial, a prayer to guide his spirit to the moons?—”

My words die as I turn and spot another crumpled form about twenty yards away, half hidden by undergrowth. I gasp. This one wears the black uniform of Umbra.

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