The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 106: Rhett’s Reckoning

"Get him water. Now."

Celeste’s command cut through the dark as Beckett ran off. Rhett’s body convulsed on the cot, a sheen of sweat drenching his chest as his fists clawed at air.

"No... not him... Father?" Rhett mumbled, his voice hoarse and broken.

He wasn’t conscious, not fully. The fever had taken him.

Inside the fever-dream, Rhett stood barefoot in the woods, the moonbone trees glowing silver-blue. The air pulsed with magic, sharp and bitter on his tongue.

"You were warned," came the voice, not in front of him, but inside his spine.

Rhett turned. His dead father stepped forward from between the trees, pale as bone, his long cloak dragging over dead leaves that didn’t rustle.

"Father," Rhett whispered, chest tightening.

The man who had raised him, beaten strength into him, taught him to never bow, looked... diminished. As if time had unraveled him thread by thread. His eyes burned, not with warmth, but the hollow flame of regret.

"You think this war will make you king. But you’re not meant to rule," the ghost rasped. "You’re meant to end it."

"What does that mean?" Rhett took a step forward.

His father raised a hand. Rhett froze. The air thickened.

"You defy the old ways. Join with witches. Sleep beside bloodlines cursed since before your birth. You break everything, son. You tear open the veil."

The forest cracked. Screams echoed in the distance. Moonlight flickered like a dying fire.

"I tried to be better than you," Rhett said, fists shaking.

"And you became worse."

Rhett shouted, lunged, but his father vanished. Only black fog remained, curling around Rhett’s limbs like fetters. He fell to his knees, and the earth cracked beneath him.

Then came the pain.

It started in his back, four lines tearing down his spine as though claws had dragged from shoulder to waist. The agony was real, sharper than any vision. He screamed. Blood seeped through his skin.

"You bleed for the bond," came a voice not his father’s. Camille.

She stepped out of the mist. But her eyes weren’t hers. They were violet and flickering, like lit candles trembling in a breeze.

"Camille?"

She kneeled beside him.

"The bond is cracking, Rhett. You sealed it in lust and war, not truth. Now it tears at both your souls."

He tried to move, to grab her hand, but she pulled back.

"You carry the blood of rulers," she whispered. "But not the heart."

Lightning ripped through the dream. Fire leapt from the trees.

And Rhett woke screaming.

He sat up, gasping. Sweat dripped down his temple. His back, his back burned.

Celeste and Magnolia stood nearby. Celeste had a hand over her mouth.

Beckett stood beside the bed, frozen.

Magnolia was the first to move.

"Rhett? Talk to me. What happened?"

He couldn’t speak. He turned his body slowly, lifting the torn linen shirt from his back.

Celeste stepped forward, lifting the edge.

Four ragged claw marks stretched from his left shoulder blade down to the curve of his spine. Fresh. Bleeding.

"This... this wasn’t here before," Celeste whispered.

"It happened in the vision," Rhett rasped. "But it was real."

Magnolia took his face in her hands, her thumb brushing his cheek. "Who did this to you?"

He looked up, eyes haunted. "My father. And Camille."

"Camille?" Beckett echoed.

Rhett stood, stumbling a little, but upright. His voice gathered strength like a storm.

"It wasn’t her. Not really. It was something inside her. Speaking through her. Warning me. The bond between us, it’s wrong. Twisted. Not just fate."

"You mean the blood ritual?" Celeste asked, voice tight.

"No. Something older. Deeper. She said I forged it wrong. Through war and lust. Not truth."

Magnolia looked stricken. "Is that why we feel it too? Every time you ache, I do. Every time you bleed, "

He reached for her, fingers brushing her collarbone. "Yes. We are part of it now. All three of us."

Beckett crossed his arms. "If that bond breaks, what happens?"

Rhett didn’t answer. Because he didn’t know.

But Camille did.

From outside the tent, her voice echoed.

"Then the storm comes."

They rushed out.

Camille stood barefoot in the grass, her white robe soaked from dew and sweat. Her eyes, normal again, looked hollow. She cradled her belly.

"It’s not just the bond," she said, voice barely louder than wind. "It’s what comes through it."

Celeste walked toward her slowly, one hand raised. "What do you feel, Camille?"

"A child. But not a child. A gate. Inside me. And it’s opening."

Rhett stepped beside her. "Then we close it. We find a way."

Camille shook her head. "We don’t close it. We choose what comes through."

The sky rumbled.

And the war, long foretold, breathed through the air like smoke before fire.

"Are you ready?" Rhett’s voice was low, almost drowned by the wind curling around the stone circle. His breath carried heat. His golden eyes didn’t blink.

Magnolia nodded, her fingers curled tight at her sides, the moonlight casting silver veins across her pale skin. Around them, the entire pack stood silent. Hundreds of them, their eyes trained on her, waiting for the moment that would seal a new era.

The Ascension Stone stood tall behind them, jagged and black, carved with ancient glyphs that pulsed faintly like the thrum of a heartbeat. A sacred place, meant only for a union of fate, not convenience. And yet, tonight, she was here. Chosen.

Rhett stepped forward. His shirt was gone, revealing the full markings of his bloodline, sigils etched like war brands across his sculpted chest and shoulders. Every step he took echoed through the clearing. Even the wolves stopped breathing.

"Tonight," he announced, voice thunder-deep, "I bind myself before the Moon. Before you all. Before the old gods still watching."

Magnolia trembled, not from fear, but from the weight of it all. She could hear her pulse in her ears, feel the way her heart quickened when his hand reached for hers. She took it.

His palm was warm. Solid. Her anchor.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist.

"Magnolia Vale," he said clearly. "Will you take my mark? Will you bind with me beneath the Moon and carry the blood of my kind inside your bones?"

She looked up at him. The man. The beast. The alpha. The one who had once been her enemy, her temptation, her ruin. Now, her bond.

"I will." Her voice was steady, but her heart roared.

Rhett leaned in slowly. No hurry. No rush. Just deliberate possession. His mouth grazed her neck, right above her collarbone. His breath was fire. Then,

His fangs sank in.

Pain lanced through her. Sharp. Blinding. And then,

Heat.

A rush of power, so great it rocked her to her knees.

The pack howled in unison. Wolves bowed their heads. Warriors dropped to a knee. The Moon burned brighter, casting eerie silver firelight across the circle.

But then, the stone cracked beneath them.

Rhett jerked back. His fangs red with her blood. His eyes widened.

A pulse of force erupted outward from their bond, slamming into the outer circle. Several wolves were thrown back. Trees bent. Torches went dark.

Magnolia clutched her chest. Her mark glowed gold, and beneath it, something ancient stirred.

Behind them, the Ascension Stone split. A narrow fracture, glowing from within.

Someone gasped. Someone else whispered, "That’s never happened before..."

Rhett turned to face the crowd.

"No one moves," he ordered.

The pack froze.

Magnolia stood slowly, her hand going to the side of her neck where the mark throbbed like a second heartbeat.

"What did we just awaken?" she whispered.

No one answered.

Magnolia couldn’t sleep. Not with her blood on fire.

The mark pulsed with energy, sending waves of sensation down her spine. Her breath felt too shallow. The world too loud.

She sat at the edge of the ceremonial pool outside the main house, watching the moon’s reflection ripple in the water. Her hand hovered over her collarbone. She didn’t touch the mark. She didn’t dare.

Footsteps.

Rhett emerged from the shadows. A towel hung from his shoulder, his torso still bare. But the look on his face wasn’t desire. It was concern.

"I felt it," he said. "Even in sleep. Like lightning under my skin."

Magnolia turned to face him. "Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?"

"No."

She blinked.

"Most bonds bring unity," he continued. "Calm. Connection. This one... burns."

Magnolia stood. Her hands trembled. "So we’re broken already?"

"No. We’re too strong."

Their eyes locked. Then, without thinking, she reached for him.

Their hands met. Power flared.

Flames danced across their skin, gold and violet, flickering like spirit fire.

Suddenly, the world dimmed. The moon disappeared. The night stilled.

And then they heard it,

Voices.

Whispers. Faint. Echoing. In a language neither of them recognized.

Magnolia stepped back. "Do you hear that?"

Rhett nodded slowly. "They’re not just voices... They’re memories."

"From who?"

"The ones who came before us."

The mark on her neck began to glow again, and her eyes rolled back. Her knees buckled, but Rhett caught her.

Magnolia opened her mouth to scream, but a different voice emerged. A child’s voice.

"She carries the gate," the voice said. "He carries the blade."

Then silence.

Magnolia gasped and coughed violently. Her hands clawed at her throat.

"I, I saw a woman," she choked. "Running through fire. Holding something wrapped in cloth."

Rhett’s jaw clenched.

"Someone tampered with this bond," he said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I’ve never heard voices before."

They stood there, surrounded by flame and fog, not knowing whether they had just stepped into power, or stepped into a trap.

The celebration had resumed by morning, but the energy was fractured.

Tables were draped in silver cloth. The scent of roasted venison filled the air. Music played softly. Warriors drank and laughed, trying to pretend the ground hadn’t cracked beneath their feet hours before.

Magnolia stood near the edge of the gathering, her hair braided with fresh moonflowers, the mark on her neck still faintly glowing. People congratulated her, but she barely heard them.

Then Ivy approached.

Beautiful. Red lips. Velvet dress. Carrying a box wrapped in crimson silk.

"A gift," she said sweetly. "For the new Luna."

Rhett’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t move.

Magnolia hesitated. "Thank you... Ivy."

Ivy smiled too wide. "Open it."

Magnolia looked down at the box. Her fingers hovered. Something inside hummed.

But before she could lift the lid, Ivy moved.

A blur. A snarl. Steel glinting in her palm.

Rhett lunged.

The dagger caught the edge of Magnolia’s sleeve, slicing fabric, not skin. The blade dripped a greenish sheen. Poison.

Rhett tackled Ivy to the ground. They rolled, kicked, teeth bared.

Guards closed in.

"Hold her!" Rhett barked.

Two warriors pinned Ivy. She thrashed, eyes burning like coals.

"She’s not your true mate!" she screamed. "The mark’s a lie! She’ll kill us all!"

Magnolia stood frozen.

The box lay open on the ground. Inside: a second dagger. Smaller. Child-sized.

Rhett looked at it. Then at Magnolia.

Something had begun.

And it wasn’t over.