As sun dipped into the sea horizon, and the moon rose up in night sky. Nyma rose to her feet, the weight of her family's legacy and the future of the Lycan kingdom resting on her shoulders. She was no longer just Nyma Ravengale, the young girl with no mate. She was Nyma, the fated Luna of Lycan Prince's pack, and the world was waiting for her to step into her destiny.
The grand hall of the Lycan Palace was a sight to behold. Towering marble pillars lined the room, their surfaces etched with intricate carvings of wolves and moons. The air was alive with the hum of anticipation as the gathered nobility and pack members watched the ceremony unfold.
As Nyma walked through the crowd, her eyes searched for someone. She hadn't seen Jarein for two months now and talked to for over half a year, it had become almost forbidden for her to mingle outside their circle since Adrian had entered her life. The last time she had caught a glimpse of Jarein was at the Lycan King and Queen's anniversary party.
Nyma schooled her wandering gaze, taking deep breaths. Why was she thinking about him now? What was the point? It had been fine to think about him in the past, but now, with her true mate beside her, she needed to forget him entirely—like a dream slipping through her fingers. No matter how hard it was, she couldn't afford to chase that forsaken dream anymore.
She turned her gaze to Prince Adrian, staring at him as if willing the sight of him to change something within her. She just wanted to use her mate as an excuse to conceal her real feelings—feelings she had kept locked away, feelings she had harbored for someone else, someone who meant more to her than life itself.
She had loved him from the moment she had known him. She had secretly loved him through all their childhood years, never daring to let him know. But she had hoped, prayed, that Jarein would be her fated one.
She had believed that if she simply concealed her feelings and waited for the Moon Goddess's blessing, everything would fall into place. But never had she imagined that on the night of her eighteenth birthday, the Lycan Prince would lay his claim on her, declaring her as his mate. She had clearly overestimated her fate.
Yet, with the mate bond, she hadn't felt even an ounce of what she had felt for the one she had loved all these years. Only the Goddess knew how she was going to live through this when she saw no hope in her future.
Prince Adrian guided Nyma to a seat beside him, his grip firm yet gentle, as though afraid she might slip away. She let him, her body moving mechanically, her heart betraying her with its relentless ache.
As she settled, her eyes instinctively swept across the gathered crowd once more, hoping. But Jarein Valdyrn was not there. She scolded herself for feeling the sting of disappointment. Why was she feeling this? She didn't know. Even after being mated, even after giving herself to Prince Adrian, why did she still feel so helpless?
A warm touch grazed her fingers, snapping her back to the present. Adrian had reached for her hand, his palm large, reassuring. The moment their skin met, a jolt of electricity coursed through her, a reminder of the undeniable bond between them. Yet instead of comfort, she flinched and instinctively withdrew, folding her hands in her lap.
She saw the flicker of anger in Adrian's dark golden eyes, but he masked it quickly. He didn't push, didn't question. He had told her he would wait for her, wait until she was ready to accept him—wait until he marked her and fully claimed her as his. But how long could she keep him waiting? How long before he realized that her heart belonged to another?
Nyma swallowed, her fingers curling into the fabric of her gown. She should be grateful he had not marked her yet. If he had, he would feel the war raging inside her—the battle between fate and love, between duty and desire.
Still, she couldn't believe she had gone to his chambers on that fateful anniversary night and surrendered herself to him. What had she been thinking? Had she hoped that intimacy would make her feel something more for him? That the bond would miraculously overwrite her love for another?
But no. Even now, sitting beside her fated mate, her soul felt untethered, longing for someone who would never be hers. Soon, Nyma was called upon by the High Priestess. Prince Adrain also stood along with her.
Nyma stood at the center of the hall, her ceremonial gown shimmering under the light of a thousand candles. The ancient Ravengale jewelry glinted against her skin, a symbol of her lineage and her new role. Prince Adrian, tall and regal, stood beside her, his presence both reassuring and overwhelming. His golden eyes, sharp and piercing, occasionally flicked toward her, as if sensing her unease.
The High Priestess, an elderly woman with silver hair that cascaded like a waterfall, stood before them, her voice echoing through the hall as she recited the ancient vows. "By the light of the moon and the bond of the soul, we gather here to unite two destinies as one. Nyma Ravengale, do you accept the mantle of Luna, to stand beside your mate, to guide, to protect, and to lead Nightspire pack and its people?"
Nyma's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears like a drum. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. The weight of the moment, the stares of the crowd, the pressure of her family's expectations—it all pressed down on her like a crushing wave. Her vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt.
"I…" she began, her voice trembling. But before she could finish, her knees buckled, and the world went dark.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as Nyma collapsed, her body falling like a fragile doll. Adrian moved faster than anyone could react, catching her before she hit the ground. His strong arms cradled her, his face a mask of shock and concern. "Nyma!" he called, his voice sharp with alarm. "Someone fetch the healer! Now!"
The hall erupted into chaos. Nobles whispered furiously among themselves, their voices a cacophony of speculation and concern. Raina rushed forward, her face pale, while Amelia and Elara followed close behind. Kael and Cedric stood frozen for a moment before pushing through the crowd to reach Nyma's side.
"What happened?" Elara demanded, her voice shaking as she knelt beside her daughter. She brushed a strand of hair from Nyma's face, her touch trembling. "She was fine since morning. She was nervous, but she was fine!"
Adrian's jaw tightened as he held Nyma, his golden eyes scanning her pale face. "She's breathing," he said, his voice low but steady. "But she's cold. Too cold."
The High Priestess stepped forward, her expression grave. She placed a wrinkled hand on Nyma's forehead, her eyes closing as she murmured an incantation under her breath. After a moment, she opened her eyes, her gaze sharp and knowing. "This is no ordinary faint," she said. "There is something… unnatural at work here."
"What do you mean?" Adrian growled, his protective instincts flaring. "Is she in danger?"
The High Priestess hesitated, her gaze flicking toward the crowd before settling back on Adrian. "I cannot say for certain. But her energy… it's as if something is draining her. We must take her to the sacred chambers immediately. The moon's power is strongest there. It may help me see more to uncover the truth."
Adrian didn't hesitate. He lifted Nyma into his arms, her body limp and fragile against his chest. "Lead the way," he said, his voice brooking no argument.
As Adrian carried Nyma out of the hall, the crowd parted, their whispers growing louder. Raina and Elara followed close behind, their faces etched with worry. Kael and Cedric exchanged a glance, their expressions grim. This was not how the ceremony was supposed to go. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.