Chapter 2 A False Pact Becomes Real

Three days in werewolf custody had taught me several things: their fortress had exactly eight guard rotations daily, their kitchens served surprisingly decent vegetable stew, and Prince Calder Draven was infuriatingly punctual with his daily interrogations. Not that he called them interrogations—he preferred "mutual information exchange."

I sat in my chamber—cell was too harsh a word for a space with a feather bed and bay windows, albeit windows warded against escape—watching the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the floor. The emerald pendant at my throat felt heavier than usual, its magic pulsing in time with my anxiety.

The door opened precisely at four o'clock.

"Comfortable, Stargazer?" Calder asked, entering with two steaming cups. He'd taken to bringing tea, as if we were old friends having a chat rather than captor and captive.

"Delightful. Though the company leaves something to be desired," I replied, accepting the cup nonetheless. I'd checked the first day's tea for poison; finding none, I'd decided that if he wanted me dead, there were far more efficient methods at his disposal.

Calder sat across from me, the damaged star iron collar still around his neck. The cut my vine had made hadn't been repaired—a curious choice that I hadn't yet decoded.

"Your clan elders arrive tomorrow," he said, watching me carefully. "Elder Thorne has been in contact with them. They've confirmed the resonance pattern."

I nearly choked on my tea. "They what?"

"Your grandmother's journals apparently contained references to the Starfire Twins prophecy. They're treating this as... significant."

"Significant enough to trade the Moon Tear for me?" I asked hopefully.

His smile was wolfish. "They're not coming for a prisoner exchange, Rowan. They're coming for a binding ceremony."

The cup slipped from my fingers, shattering on the stone floor. Tea splashed across my boots, but I barely noticed.

"A binding? Between us? That's—"

"Exactly what the prophecy demands, apparently." His tone was carefully neutral, but I could see tension in the set of his shoulders. "Our marks connected for a reason. The prophecy states that when the Starfire Twins are bound, ancient magics will reawaken."

I stood, pacing the confines of my chamber. "I won't do it. I won't bind myself to a werewolf."

"And I'm thrilled at the prospect of tying myself to a witch," he countered dryly. "But both our clans are insisting. They see this as an opportunity to end centuries of conflict."

"By forcing us into some mystical arranged marriage?" I spat.

"It's not..." He hesitated. "It's not that kind of binding. It's a magical alliance, not a marriage."

I stopped pacing to study him. There was something he wasn't telling me. "What kind of binding, exactly?"

Calder sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "A pact of mutual protection and shared power. According to the texts, it would allow us to draw on each other's strengths when needed."

"And the catch? There's always a catch with ancient magic."

His jaw tightened. "We'd be connected. Permanently. If one dies, the other's powers are... compromised."

"Meaning we'd be each other's weakness as well as strength." I laughed bitterly. "Brilliant plan. What's to stop either of us from using it against the other?"

"The binding itself prevents deliberate harm between the bonded pair," he explained, though he didn't look entirely convinced. "The elders believe it's the only way to stand against what's coming."

"And what exactly is 'coming'?" I challenged.

Calder's expression darkened. "You haven't noticed? The increasing attacks on both our territories? The strange blight affecting both the moonflowers your people cultivate and the stargrass of our northern fields?"

I had noticed. Our clan had lost three border patrols in the past month alone. "You think the vampires are behind it?"

"I know they are." His voice dropped to a growl. "The silver weapons they've been supplying to human hunters bear the same markings as the blade that killed my father."

Something in his tone made me look closer. Behind his carefully maintained control, there was raw pain. I remembered the rumors—how the young prince had witnessed his father's murder, how he'd been found clutching the king's body, covered in blood.

"I'm... sorry about your father," I said awkwardly.

Surprise flickered across his features before the mask returned. "It was a long time ago."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. I broke it first.

"So tomorrow I'm expected to bind myself to you in some ancient ritual because our elders are afraid of vampires?"

"Not just afraid," he corrected. "Desperate. Both our kinds are weakening. The vampires are playing a long game, and they're winning."

I moved to the window, placing my palm against the cool glass. Far below, I could see the werewolf city spreading out from the fortress—not the barbaric encampment I'd imagined in my youth, but a proper settlement with stone buildings and gardens. Children played in a courtyard, some in human form, others as wolf pups.

"What exactly would this binding entail?" I asked finally.

Calder approached, standing beside me at the window. "A sharing of blood and magic, spoken vows, the creation of a magical tether between us."

"And if I refuse?"

His reflection in the glass looked tired. "Then both our clans will likely continue their slow decline until the vampires decide we're weak enough to finish off entirely."

"That's manipulative," I accused.

"That's truthful," he corrected. "I don't like this any more than you do, Rowan. But I've watched my people grow weaker with each generation. The star iron that once strengthened us is growing scarce. Your clan's moonlight magic dims with each passing year."

He wasn't wrong. My grandmother had been able to summon silver vines thick as tree trunks; mine, at their strongest, were barely the width of my wrist.

"One condition," I said finally, turning to face him. "The Moon Tear is returned to my people after the ceremony."

Calder's eyes narrowed. "Half the year with your clan, half with mine. It belongs to both our peoples—that's what the old texts say."

I wanted to argue but knew this was likely the best offer I'd get. "Fine. But I want it in writing, signed and sealed before the ceremony."

"Done," he agreed too quickly, making me wonder if I should have asked for more.

The next morning dawned clear and cold. I'd been provided ceremonial robes of deep blue, embroidered with silver stars—beautiful, but clearly designed to match the Frostclaw aesthetic rather than Moonshadow traditions. I left them on the bed, opting instead for my own clothing—black leggings, silver-trimmed tunic, and the midnight blue cloak that marked me as a Stargazer.

A knock at the door announced not a guard but a young werewolf girl, perhaps sixteen, with intelligent eyes and a nervous smile.

"My name is Lyra," she said with a quick bow. "I'm to escort you to the preparation chamber, Lady Stargazer."

"Just Rowan is fine," I replied, following her into the hallway.

Lyra led me through corridors I hadn't seen before, chattering about the ceremony preparations. "The Great Hall has been decorated with both moonflowers and stargrass—a symbol of unity, Elder Thorne says. And the Prince had the old binding circle restored. It hasn't been used in centuries!"

Her enthusiasm was oddly infectious, making it hard to maintain my resentment. "Have my people arrived?" I asked.

"Oh yes! A whole delegation, led by Elder Sylvia. They're in discussions with our council right now, finalizing the agreement."

Grandmother Sylvia was here? That was unexpected. She rarely left our sanctuary these days, her health too fragile for travel. If she'd come personally, this truly was being taken seriously.

The preparation chamber turned out to be a small, circular room with a domed ceiling painted to represent the night sky. In the center stood a silver basin filled with clear water, and beside it, to my shock and relief, stood my grandmother.

"Rowan," she breathed, opening her arms. I rushed into her embrace, breathing in her familiar scent of herbs and moonlight.

"Grandmother, what is happening? They're forcing me into this binding with Prince Calder—"

"No one is forcing anything," she said firmly, holding me at arm's length to examine me. "The resonance between you is real. I felt it the moment I entered this fortress."

"But he's a werewolf," I protested, hating how childish I sounded.

Her smile was knowing. "And you are a witch. Two sides of the same celestial coin, as it has always been. Before the great divide, our kinds worked together, protected each other."

"Until they betrayed us," I reminded her.

"History is rarely so simple, little star." She touched my emerald pendant gently. "This has been protecting you, but also limiting you. Today, for the ceremony, you must remove it."

Panic fluttered in my chest. "I can't. The visions—"

"Will be controlled. I'll be there, as will Prince Calder. The bond itself will help stabilize your gift." She spoke with such confidence that I almost believed her.

Almost.

"What if this is a mistake?" I whispered.

"What if it isn't?" she countered. "What if this is exactly what both our peoples need?"

Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Elder Thorne entered with a solemn expression.

"It is time," he announced. "Both clans are assembled."

My grandmother squeezed my hands. "Remember, little star—the words of the binding have power. Listen carefully, speak truly."

With that cryptic advice, I was led through a series of hallways to massive double doors carved with the intertwined symbols of moon and stars. Beyond them, I could hear the murmur of many voices.

Elder Thorne turned to me. "When the doors open, you will walk to the center circle. Prince Calder will join you from the opposite entrance. The ritual words are simple, but the intent behind them matters most."

I nodded, my mouth too dry for words.

The doors swung open to reveal the Great Hall transformed. Hundreds of candles floated in the air, illuminating the faces of werewolves on one side, witches on the other. In the center, a circular platform held an intricate pattern inlaid with silver and what appeared to be crushed stargrass.

I walked forward, conscious of every eye upon me. From the opposite side of the hall, Calder approached. He wore formal attire—black with silver embroidery that matched the night sky, his damaged collar still in place. Our eyes met across the distance, and I felt that strange resonance again, stronger now, pulling at something deep within me.

We reached the circle simultaneously. Elder Thorne and my grandmother took positions at north and south points of the circle.

"We gather to witness the binding of two ancient lineages," Elder Thorne began, his voice carrying to every corner of the hall. "The Stargazer of the Moonshadow Witches and the Crown Prince of the Frostclaw Clan—the fulfillment of the Starfire prophecy."

My grandmother continued, "Through their union, ancient powers will reawaken. Through their bond, our peoples will find strength against the coming darkness."

A small table rose from the center of the circle, bearing a silver chalice. Elder Thorne produced a ceremonial dagger with a blade that glinted with both silver and star iron—a dangerous combination for both our kinds.

"Blood freely given, magic freely shared," he intoned, handing the dagger to Calder.

Calder met my gaze as he drew the blade across his palm, letting several drops of his blood fall into the chalice. He then extended the dagger to me, handle first.

I accepted it, aware of the significance of this moment. With a steadying breath, I cut my own palm, watching as my blood joined his in the chalice. The moment they touched, a soft light began to emanate from the mixture.

Elder Thorne added what looked like crushed moonflowers and stargrass to the chalice, then handed it to Calder.

"Repeat the oath as you drink," my grandmother instructed us both.

Calder raised the chalice to his lips. "With this blood, I bind my strength to yours. In darkness, I will be your light. In weakness, I will be your shield. In battle, I will stand beside you. This I swear, until the stars fall from the sky."

He drank, then passed the chalice to me. I hesitated, glancing at the ceremonial text my grandmother held open. The words Calder had spoken matched what was written, except for one crucial phrase. Where he had said "stand beside you," the text clearly read "stand before you."

In that moment, I understood what my grandmother had meant about the power of words. The original oath would have placed him in a position of protection—and authority. His change had made us equals.

I raised the chalice, meeting his eyes as I spoke. "With this blood, I bind my strength to yours. In darkness, I will be your light. In weakness, I will be your shield." I paused, seeing his slight nod of acknowledgment. "In battle, I will stand beside you. This I swear, until the stars fall from the sky."

As I drank the mixture—bitter and sweet and burning all at once—the circle beneath us illuminated. Light shot upward, enveloping us both in a column of intermingled silver and blue energy. I felt Calder's presence in my mind, a foreign sensation both intrusive and oddly comforting.

The light faded gradually, leaving behind a strange mark on my wrist—a thin band of what looked like starlight etched into my skin. Looking at Calder, I saw a similar mark on him.

"The binding is complete," Elder Thorne announced. "What ancient forces have joined, let no power tear asunder."

The assembled crowd erupted in cheers and howls of approval, but I barely heard them. Something fundamental had shifted inside me, as if pieces of myself I hadn't known were missing had suddenly clicked into place.

Calder's expression suggested he felt it too—confusion, wonder, and wariness all mingled in his eyes.

"Well," he said quietly, for my ears alone, "it seems we're stuck with each other, Stargazer."

"So it seems, wolf," I replied, trying to ignore the strange warmth spreading through me where our blood had mingled.

The ceremony concluded with the formal signing of the treaty—the Moon Tear would indeed be shared between our peoples, along with other concessions on both sides. As the crowd dispersed for the celebratory feast, I slipped away, needing a moment of solitude to process what had just happened.

I found myself in a small courtyard garden, sitting on a stone bench beneath a waxing moon. I touched the mark on my wrist, still glowing faintly with otherworldly light.

"Trying to figure out how to break it already?" Calder's voice came from behind me.

I turned to find him leaning against a pillar, watching me with unreadable eyes.

"Just... adjusting," I admitted. "This isn't what I expected when I came here to reclaim the Moon Tear."

He approached, sitting beside me on the bench. "I've been meaning to ask—how did you get past our outer wards? They should have detected any witch magic."

"I didn't use magic until I was inside," I explained. "Just good old-fashioned stealth and some tricks I learned from studying your clan's defensive patterns."

A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. "Impressive."

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of what we'd done settling around us.

"You changed the words," I said finally. "The oath. It was supposed to be 'stand before you,' wasn't it?"

He shrugged. "The original text was written in less enlightened times. I have no interest in a subservient partner—even an unwilling one."

"Partner," I repeated, testing the word. "Is that what we are now?"

"Allied, at least," he replied carefully. "Whether we become true partners depends on both of us, I suppose."

Movement caught my eye—a slip of parchment peeking from his pocket. I recognized it instantly as the escape map I'd been working on in secret during my captivity.

"You found my map," I said flatly.

He pulled it out, unfolding it on his knee. "Last night. You were planning to flee immediately after the ceremony, I assume?"

I lifted my chin defiantly. "Wouldn't you, in my position?"

Instead of anger, his expression held something closer to amusement. He slowly, deliberately tore the map in half, then quarters.

"Want to leave?" he asked, his voice low. "You'll have to find another way. Or..." He tapped his damaged collar. "You could unlock this instead."

I frowned. "What does your collar have to do with anything?"

"This collar suppresses the worst of my rage during transformation. Only my true partner can remove it—that's the enchantment placed upon it." His eyes held a challenge. "The binding we just completed should have made that possible, if it's real."

"And if I remove it?"

"Then I'll know this binding is genuine, and not some elaborate deception by your clan." He leaned closer. "And you'll gain my trust—something not easily given."

I considered him for a long moment. Trust was a rare commodity between our peoples. Perhaps it was time to take a risk.

"I'll try," I said finally. "But not tonight. Tonight, I need to think."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Standing, he offered me his hand—a gesture both courteous and symbolic.

"The feast awaits, Stargazer. Our people are watching. Shall we show them what unity looks like?"

After a heartbeat's hesitation, I placed my hand in his. "Lead on, wolf prince. But don't expect me to howl at the moon just yet."

His laugh, surprised and genuine, echoed in the small courtyard as we walked back toward the Great Hall, connected by more than just our clasped hands—bound now by blood, magic, and a prophecy neither of us fully understood.