The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 85: The Unnamed Ceremony

"You don’t have to do this," Celeste murmured, her hand grazing Magnolia’s cheek. Her voice was low, barely audible over the rustle of trees below.

"Yes, I do," Magnolia replied. "If I don’t, the bloodline ends with me as just another name in the tome."

Celeste looked like she wanted to argue, but her mouth flattened. "Then we begin."

They moved together into the center of the stone circle. The ground was scorched in places from old rites. Blood had dried into the earth generations ago. Bones of wolves lay fused into the cracks, reminders of those who had not survived the memory-binding.

"Strip," Celeste said simply.

Magnolia’s fingers shook as she untied the laces of her ceremonial robe. Beneath it, her skin shivered in the wind. The crescent tattoo above her navel pulsed faintly.

Celeste knelt and smeared crushed lunar root across Magnolia’s shoulders. It glowed faintly blue under moonlight.

"Speak your name," Celeste commanded.

"Magnolia Dawn Hollowfang. Daughter of Valorin. Descendant of the Spellbinder line."

"Do you accept the burden of the blood?"

"I do."

Celeste’s tone shifted. "Do you consent to the risk of madness, memory loss, possession, and irreversible transformation?"

"I do."

The elder dipped her fingers into a bowl of ancestral ash and painted a spiral on Magnolia’s forehead. "Then kneel."

Magnolia knelt. The stone was cold beneath her knees.

Celeste began to chant. The words were in the old tongue, barely spoken anymore. The language scraped against the inside of Magnolia’s skull, and the wind around them began to howl.

"This is it?" Magnolia whispered.

"No," Celeste said. "This is only the beginning."

The stone circle shimmered. Magnolia gasped as shadows bled from the runes. Faces emerged, a dozen women with eyes like molten gold, their expressions unreadable.

One of them stepped forward. Her hair was coiled into braids studded with bone. She reached down and pressed a clawed finger to Magnolia’s forehead.

"Do you know our pain?" the spirit asked.

"No," Magnolia said, "but I carry it."

"Do you know our rage?"

"I feel it."

"Then drink."

A bone chalice was placed in her hands. It smelled of iron and herbs. Magnolia hesitated.

"Drink," Celeste said.

She drank. It was bitter, burning. Her throat convulsed. She fell forward, clutching her stomach.

"Breathe," Celeste said, voice stern now.

Memories surged, not hers. A woman running through fire. A wolf torn in two. A baby wailing as a father was slaughtered. It filled her, tore at her mind.

"Celeste!" Magnolia screamed.

"Hold on!"

Blood ran from her nose. Her spine arched. Her wolf clawed at the surface, confused.

"Your body is the gate!" the spirits cried. "Open!"

She roared. It wasn’t a human sound.

"Let go, Maggie," Celeste urged. "Let them in, but do not let them take you."

The air cracked with power. Lightning streaked the sky. Magnolia’s body hovered an inch above the stone.

And then, silence.

Magnolia collapsed. Her breaths were ragged. Celeste caught her head in trembling hands.

"Did it work?" Magnolia rasped.

Celeste stared at her. "Your eyes... they’re glowing."

Magnolia sat up slowly. Her body felt heavier. Her arms bore new marks, tattoos shaped like wolves, runes etched in fire.

"I remember," she whispered. "I remember... all of them."

Celeste exhaled in relief. "You survived."

Magnolia reached for her robe, but her hands stopped. "The voices are still here."

"They’ll always be. But now they’re yours to command."

A sudden growl erupted from the edge of the circle.

Both women turned.

Rhett stepped into the moonlight, sword drawn, blood on his sleeve.

"They’re coming," he said. "Sterling made the first move. The Unnamed Ceremony isn’t the last rite tonight. War has begun."

Magnolia stood on unsteady legs.

"Then let them come," she said, her voice laced with power not entirely her own.

Celeste nodded. "The Spellbinders have awakened."

The wind screamed through the trees. Below the plateau, fires flickered.

The night was far from over.

"How far are we from Hollowfang?"

Magnolia’s voice broke through the rhythmic gallop of hooves against the dirt path. Her breath was steady, though tension danced just beneath her words.

Rhett, astride his black warhorse beside her, didn’t turn. "We ride into its borders by nightfall. Are you ready for what lies ahead?"

She looked forward, where the horizon glowed with an unnatural red haze. The skies above Hollowfang were bleeding.

"I’ve been ready since the day they made me watch my mother burn."

Rhett’s jaw tightened. "Then let them come. We’ll burn back."

Behind them, the Syndicate army stretched in a line of silver, black, and crimson. Banners fluttered, wolves howled. Celeste rode a few lengths behind, her face carved in quiet calculation. Beckett had taken his place beside her, the shadows of his guilt buried beneath a warrior’s resolve.

"Rhett," Celeste called, urging her horse forward to close the distance. "The scouts say Camille was spotted near the Hollowfang cliffs."

Magnolia’s head snapped to her. "What? When?"

"Hours ago. She stood alone, cloaked, watching our approach. And then vanished."

Rhett exhaled. "She’s not going to make this easy."

"She’s never made anything easy," Magnolia said. "But we have to find her."

Beckett approached, his voice low. "Even if it means killing her?"

Magnolia looked away.

Celeste answered instead. "If it comes to that, it won’t be our choice."

Camille stood alone on the cliff edge, her cloak whipping violently in the wind. Below her, the valley twisted like a coiled snake. She could see them now. The Syndicate’s army was coming. And Rhett rode at its head.

"You see them too, don’t you?" the voice inside her whispered.

She clenched her fists. "I see them. I see him."

"The second heartbeat, child. Do you feel it? Your soul split. Your mind shared. One belongs to you. The other..."

Camille touched her stomach instinctively, but there was no comfort in the gesture.

"I won’t let them decide how this ends."

The voice chuckled. "They already have. But you still get to pick the fire."

Behind her, the hollow wind howled like a grieving woman.

Night fell quickly over the battlefield.

The Syndicate set up camp on the outskirts of the Hollowfang Ridge. Warriors sharpened blades, wolves prowled among tents, and Magnolia sat beneath the glow of torchlight, polishing her mother’s dagger. Her eyes burned.

"You’re quiet tonight," Rhett said, stepping toward her.

"You’re not."

"Because I have too much to say and not enough time."

She met his gaze, unblinking. "Then say it."

Rhett crouched beside her, voice low. "You were right about Camille. There’s something inside her now. Something old. Something dangerous."

"I know."

"Do you think she chose this?"

"No," Magnolia admitted. "But she won’t let go either."

He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "Neither will we."

Her hand closed over his. "Promise me, Rhett. If it comes to choosing between saving her and saving the world... you’ll choose the world."

His silence was long. Then, "I promise. But it will destroy you."

"I’d rather be destroyed than a coward."

In the dead of night, Camille entered the ruins.

The same ruins where her mother once took the oath.

The Luna Temple, a place forbidden, ancient, and still alive with magic. The stone pulsed beneath her boots.

She walked straight into the altar hall, lit only by moonlight pouring through shattered stained glass.

"This is where it ends," she whispered.

"Or begins," the voice purred.

A vision shimmered across the altar, the past playing like memory. A woman, cloaked in silver flame, speaking the Luna oath. A crowd of ancestors watching. The woman’s eyes mirrored Camille’s.

"You are the second heartbeat. The bloodline lives through fire."

Camille stepped into the center.

"Take it from me, then," she said.

The room ignited.

At dawn, Rhett stood atop the eastern ridge.

From here, he could see the entire Hollowfang stretch. Smoke billowed from the Temple.

"She’s already made her choice," Magnolia said, appearing beside him.

"Then we make ours."

Below, their army stirred.

Wolves howled. Spears slammed against shields. The sky turned crimson as the sun broke over the ridge, painting the clouds like spilled blood.

Rhett raised his sword. "For Hollowfang, for the blood betrayed, we march."

Magnolia transformed. Her wolf rose with silver eyes blazing, coat streaked in dark lightning. She did not wait for a signal. She ran.

Rhett followed.

And so did war.

Behind them, Celeste whispered, "Let the prophecy choose."

Camille stood in the burning ruins, ash swirling around her like snow.

Her hands bled.

Her eyes glowed.

And she smiled.

"Let them come."