The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 102: The Poisoned Verdict

The arena of echoes had never been so quiet.

The trial grounds spanned a sunken stone amphitheater, encircled by cliffs carved with centuries of names, Lunas crowned, Alphas burned, traitors flayed, and kings forgotten. The whispers of past judgments were said to linger in the walls, like breath trapped in stone.

Thousands of shifters gathered in solemn circles, seated in tiers that curved like a waiting mouth. Noble bloodlines filled the highest balconies. Warriors occupied the mid-rings, dressed in leather, steel, and ceremonial bone. The outermost rings swarmed with the restless, unmated wolves, youngbloods, and factions loyal to either crown or chaos.

At the center, a raised stone platform awaited. Magnolia stood upon it.

She wore white, not for purity, but for sacrifice. The ceremonial silk clung to her frame, shoulders bare, wrists unadorned. Her dark hair was braided down her spine, tipped with silver threads that shimmered when she moved. Her eyes met the crowd with quiet defiance.

Rhett watched from the sealed inner ring, his fists clenched so tight blood dripped from the moons carved into his palms. Beckett stood behind him like a storm waiting for a signal. Celeste stood alone, staff in hand, jaw set.

Camille was absent.

Sterling arrived late.

He entered with deliberate grace, dressed in high-elder robes of indigo and ivory, embroidered with sigils that hadn’t been seen in over a century. His silver hair was slicked back, a polished pendant of lunar ore swinging from his neck.

In his right hand, he held a ceremonial chalice.

His left hand curled around a small vial, barely visible, but Camille would’ve seen it.

She did.

She arrived as he placed the chalice onto the altar. Her breath caught as the vial vanished into the folds of his robe. She stood above the circle, in the shadows, her pulse pounding loud as war drums.

No.

She moved fast, too fast.

But not fast enough.

Sterling bowed before the elders and raised his voice. "We gather under Luna’s watch, in the seat of echoes, to test the soul of the one who seeks the title of Luna."

"Magnolia Blake," Elder Virelle intoned, rising with difficulty. "Daughter of the Spellbinder line. Branded by prophecy. Brought by bond. You stand accused of bearing the mark of the cursed moon."

Magnolia stepped forward, chin high. "I stand, but I do not kneel."

Whispers rose like rising wind. Sterling smiled.

"Then you must drink of the sacred oath," Virelle said. "If your soul is true, Luna will spare you. If you are false, "

"She’ll consume me," Magnolia finished. "I know."

Sterling approached the altar.

Camille shouted from the balcony, "Stop!"

Every head turned. Sterling paused mid-pour, lips parted.

"She’s being poisoned!" Camille screamed, pushing through the guards. "There’s wolfsbane in the chalice. And nightshade. She’ll die before the bond can even be tested."

Sterling didn’t flinch. "She lies."

Rhett stood. "Let her speak."

"She’s mad," Sterling said, raising his voice. "She cracked the Elder’s staff in defiance. She threatens our law. She brings fear to sway verdict."

"She brings the truth," Beckett growled, stepping forward.

But the guards moved. A ring of steel rose around Camille, her hands bound in seconds.

"Let me prove it," she begged. "Let me test the chalice."

Sterling faced her slowly. "No."

The crowd murmured. The Elders remained silent.

Celeste’s voice cut through it all. "Then let her choose."

Sterling turned to her. "What?"

Celeste lifted her staff. "Let Magnolia choose. Does she believe her sister... or does she submit to your oath?"

Magnolia looked at Camille. Her eyes, fierce, terrified, blazing, met hers across the circle.

Camille whispered, "Don’t trust him. Not this time."

Magnolia stepped to the altar.

She looked at Sterling. "Give me the chalice."

He handed it to her.

It was warm.

She turned. The crowd leaned in. A million eyes. A thousand breaths held.

Rhett whispered her name.

She lifted it.

And drank.

Camille screamed.

Magnolia blinked. The chalice slipped from her fingers.

And her body began to tremble.

Magnolia dropped.

Her body struck the stone with a crack that silenced the arena. The chalice rolled from her limp fingers, liquid still shimmering like moonlight tainted with blood. For one second, no one moved. No one breathed.

Then Rhett broke the silence.

"Magnolia!"

He surged forward, but the guards blocked his path. He roared, shift almost breaking through his skin, and the iron in his voice rattled the shields raised against him. Still, they held. Camille was already kneeling beside her sister, fingers pressed to Magnolia’s throat.

"She’s alive," Camille breathed. "Barely."

Her skin had turned white. Not pale, white. Like snow ash. Her eyes flickered beneath their lids. Her lips parted, and a sound escaped, not a gasp, not a word.

A name.

"Elira..."

Camille flinched. The name pierced something old. Buried.

"She’s gone under," Celeste whispered, stepping forward. Her staff pulsed with faint blue light. "The poison wasn’t meant to kill her. It was meant to break the barrier between this world and the veil."

"She’s trapped?" Beckett asked, voice hoarse.

"No." Celeste’s voice trembled. "She’s been summoned."

Inside the veil, fire raged.

Magnolia stood barefoot in a plain of ash and smoke. Her white robes had burned to the knees, revealing seared skin. Yet she didn’t scream. Couldn’t.

Around her, a thousand voices wept. Wind twisted around her legs like hands trying to pull her down.

Then she saw her.

A woman, bound to a pyre.

Flames licked at her ankles. Her wrists were tied with silver vines. Her eyes, gods, her eyes, were Magnolia’s.

But this was no reflection.

She was older. Her hair streaked with gray, her face regal even in agony. Her dress had once been ceremonial, now charred at the sleeves. She stood tall, though her flesh burned.

Magnolia took a step forward.

The flames parted.

"Do you know me?" the woman asked.

Magnolia’s lips trembled. "You’re me."

"No. I am who you came from."

The wind whispered again. Elira. Elira.

"You’re the first Luna," Magnolia said, voice hoarse.

"I was chosen," Elira replied. "And then betrayed."

"What is this place?"

"The memory you carry in your blood. The punishment passed from my body to yours."

Magnolia staggered forward, smoke choking her throat. "Why me?"

"Because I was never allowed to finish the seal. So it lived on, waiting for a vessel strong enough to open and close it in one breath."

Magnolia’s skin burned, though the fire never touched her. "I didn’t ask for this."

"No Luna ever does."

The world shifted.

The pyre disappeared.

Now she stood in a forest drenched in moonlight. Wolves surrounded her. Dozens. Their eyes glowing gold. Their growls low, bodies crouched. But none attacked.

At the center stood a wolf made of bone and smoke. Larger than any Alpha she’d ever seen. It stepped forward.

Magnolia’s knees buckled.

"Elira," she whispered.

The wolf leaned close.

"Finish what I couldn’t," it said, in Elira’s voice.

Then, its fangs opened wide, and swallowed her.

In the waking world, Magnolia screamed.

Her back arched off the altar stone, her mouth open wide but her eyes still closed. A light poured from her chest, bright, silver, searing. The same sigil that had appeared in the ancient vault glowed against her skin. The ground beneath her cracked.

The crowd backed away.

Celeste dropped to her knees beside Camille. "She’s in a crossing."

"A what?" Camille snapped.

"A place between breath and memory. Between self... and soul."

Rhett broke free of the guards, shouldering past steel. He knelt beside her, cupping her cheek. "Magnolia... come back to me."

"She’s not ready," Celeste said, tears shining in her eyes. "She hasn’t chosen."

Suddenly, the light from Magnolia’s chest shot upward, into the sky.

And then went out.

Magnolia gasped, sharply, violently.

Her eyes opened.

But they were not her eyes.

They glowed lunar silver. Every vein in her neck shimmered beneath her skin. Her lips parted slowly.

"I saw her."

Rhett’s voice cracked. "Who?"

"Elira. The first Luna. She died in fire. But she still burns."

Camille grabbed her hand. "Did she speak to you?"

Magnolia looked straight at Sterling.

"She said if I fail... we all die."

Sterling’s smile didn’t return this time.

Because Magnolia stood, unshaken, and the mark on her arm glowed like the rising moon.

And from behind the altar, the earth trembled.

The seal had awakened.