The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 90: The Council Cracks

The ancient Hollowfang council chamber was a cathedral of stone and secrecy, carved into the heart of the mountain centuries ago. Its walls whispered old truths, draped with timeworn banners from fallen Alpha lines. A cold draft moved through the high arches like a warning, brushing over the weathered faces of the council members seated in their crescent formation.

Rhett entered in silence.

The doors thundered shut behind him, echoing off the stone like a war drum. He moved with purpose, his broad shoulders squared beneath the heavy black coat of his bloodline. Eyes followed him. Some with reverence. Some with loathing. His steps did not falter.

At the far end, seated like a shadow carved from obsidian, Sterling Callahan tilted his head.

"You’re late," the old Alpha said coolly.

"I’m not here for tradition. I’m here for truth."

A murmur rippled through the chamber.

Sterling leaned forward, his silver hair catching the light like a blade. "You forget your place."

"No," Rhett replied. "I’m finally claiming it."

He stepped into the center of the stone floor, where once ancestors had knelt in submission or risen in glory. He didn’t kneel.

"The bloodline speaks through me now. And the Luna flame is rising. You’re holding onto a crown forged in fear."

An older councilman cleared his throat. "Enough riddles. Speak plainly, boy. What do you want?"

"To stop being ruled by ghosts," Rhett said, scanning the faces. "Sterling plans to use Camille. He wants to control the prophecy. And if we let him, there’ll be no Hollowfang left to save."

Sterling’s chuckle was quiet, bitter. "You sound like your mother. Always dramatic."

Rhett’s jaw twitched. "You had her silenced."

Sterling stood.

That alone was enough to hush the room.

"Do you have proof?"

"Not yet," Rhett said. "But I have voices. Eyes. The council needs to ask itself: who benefits if I vanish? If Camille becomes a vessel not of her choosing but of his?"

A younger councilwoman, Maris of the Nightshade clan, stood. "I heard what you did in the north. You spared the ferals. You broke the cycle."

Rhett turned to her. "I changed it. That’s what leadership means."

"He’s untested!" another barked. "And his mother was half-blooded!"

Rhett raised his hand.

"Then test me. Right here. Right now." freёnovelkiss.com

From the far corner, someone rose. Rhett’s uncle, Aldric, stepped forward. Older, wiser, but with the wary eyes of a man who knew battles were rarely won by strength alone.

"There are whispers of war. You think deposing Sterling now will stop that?"

"No," Rhett said. "But letting him lead it will destroy us."

Aldric’s mouth tightened. "Then you leave me no choice."

He drew a ceremonial blade from his cloak. The room froze.

Sterling didn’t stop him.

Neither did Rhett.

Aldric stepped into the circle. The firelight gleamed along the obsidian blade.

"Face me, if you claim your mother’s legacy."

Rhett unfastened his coat and tossed it aside. Beneath, his chest bore the faint red lines of claw marks, a warning from a dream, now prophecy.

He took his stance.

Steel met steel as the blade in Aldric’s hand clashed with the short twin daggers Rhett drew from his belt. Sparks scattered. Blood sang.

The council didn’t intervene.

They watched.

Rhett moved like a shadow, his body coiled with fury honed by purpose. Aldric, older but trained in the ancient way, pushed him back with sheer weight. Rhett dropped to his knees to avoid a swing, then sprang up with a twist, slicing low and catching Aldric’s thigh.

A gasp.

Aldric stumbled. Rhett hesitated.

A mistake.

Aldric lunged.

Too fast.

The blade caught Rhett across the ribs. He grunted, spun with the pain, and drove his dagger upward. The blade buried deep in Aldric’s chest.

They both froze.

Then Aldric fell, his body crumpling to the ground like a tree felled at last.

Silence.

Sterling’s eyes narrowed.

"You’ve shed blood in council."

"By your rules," Rhett said, panting. "Challenge answered."

Maris stepped forward, her voice clear. "He won it fairly."

Others stood. Two. Then four. Then seven.

One by one, council members aligned themselves behind Rhett.

Sterling watched them, his expression unreadable. But something had cracked in his gaze, a recognition. Not fear. Not yet.

But close.

Rhett looked up, chest heaving. His eyes locked with Sterling’s. "You’ll answer next."

A distant howl echoed down the mountain. Not just one. Dozens. War drums beneath the moon.

Sterling turned, his cloak sweeping like a curtain before a fall.

Rhett stood alone in the circle of blood.

But not for long.

From the shadows, Magnolia stepped into the firelight. Her presence, silent and steady.

"This," she whispered, "is how the Hollow cracks open."

And the chamber doors blew open behind them, ushering in the wind of change.

She wore ceremonial robes woven from white lunar silk, stitched with midnight thread. The sleeves brushed her knuckles, and the hem danced against her bare ankles. Her hair, unbound, tumbled like a dark cascade down her back, streaked with ash from the sacred fire. Every movement she made stirred the sigils drawn around her feet. Blood sigils. Her own.

Across from her, Celeste raised a curved dagger of obsidian. "You understand what this means," she said, her voice hushed but sharp as flint. "A Moonblood Pact is irreversible. You will not just draw on the power of the ancestors, you will become one of them."

"I’m not afraid," Magnolia answered. She wasn’t. Not anymore.

Behind Celeste, Rhett lingered at the edge of the circle, his figure tense, his wolf straining beneath his skin. His eyes never left Magnolia. He had seen her brave death more than once, but this was something else entirely. This was her offering her soul.

Celeste stepped forward, the dagger catching the moonlight. "Then speak the vow."

Magnolia inhaled slowly. "I offer my blood not for glory, but for balance. I call upon the daughters of Luna and the shadows of the Hollowfang to mark me. Let memory burn. Let legacy ignite. I vow to become the blade and the bond."

The wind screamed as if something ancient heard her.

Celeste sliced Magnolia’s palm. Blood welled and dripped onto the circle. The ground pulsed once.

Then again.

And then it opened.

A pillar of moonlight burst upward, blinding in its brilliance. Magnolia’s body arched, convulsing as if the moon itself had sunk its claws into her spine. She screamed, but not in pain. The sound was too layered. Voices echoed with hers. Old voices. Female. Fierce. Hungry.

Rhett stepped forward. "Magnolia!"

Celeste held him back with a single hand. Her eyes were wide now, her lips parting in awe. "It’s working. She’s merging."

Magnolia’s vision split. She stood not just in one place, but in many. A battlefield in the snow. A birthing cave under a blood moon. A throne of antlers carved in shadow. She was them. The Lunas of old. Her skin rippled with their strength.

Then, silence.

Her body dropped to her knees.

Rhett broke the circle, rushing to her side, catching her before she collapsed fully.

She blinked up at him, her irises glowing silver. "I saw...everything."

"What did you see?" Rhett asked, his voice cracking.

"The war isn’t just coming," she whispered. "It’s already begun in the echoes. And I am the echo’s blade."

Celeste knelt beside them. "The pact is sealed. But this power... it has a cost."

"It already took something," Magnolia murmured.

Rhett’s jaw tightened. "What did it take?"

Magnolia slowly opened her hand. The scar was gone. But so was the ring he’d given her, the simple band of iron from their first meeting. Only ashes remained in her palm.

Rhett’s face crumpled, pain flashing through him like a storm. "It took us."

Magnolia leaned into him. "Not all of us. Not yet. But it’s coming."

Celeste stood, eyes narrowed. "Then we prepare. For war, for prophecy... and for betrayal."

In the distance, a wolf howled, a low, mournful sound. Not a warning. A declaration.

The Hollowfangs had heard the pact.

And they would come.