By the fourth round, my muscles burned and my magic faltered, silver-black threads flickering weakly around my hands. The warrior lunged again — and this time, I didn’t retreat.
I let the mountain answer for me.
The Moon-root’s echo surged, dark and heavy, not cushioning the blow but redirecting it. The impact reverberated through my bones, but it didn’t break me.
It bent the world instead.
The warrior stumbled backward, eyes widening in shock as he hit the sand hard.
Silence rippled through the pit.
I stood there, panting, the ground faintly cracked beneath my feet.
Nicero watched from the upper ledge, expression unreadable.
When training ended, I could barely lift my arms.
I expected rest.
Instead, the elders summoned me.
They led me deep into the mountain, past doors sealed with sigils I did not recognize, until we reached a chamber I had never seen — not ritual, not war-room, but something closer to a tomb.
At the center lay a stone bier carved with hundreds of overlapping names.
“The Ledger of Fallen Bonds,” the eldest elder said quietly. “Every contract broken. Every oath betrayed. Every Luna and Alpha who believed themselves untouchable.”
I stepped closer, my heart pounding.