The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 100: Rhett’s Reckoning

The fever didn’t begin with heat. It began with silence.

A thick, unnatural quiet wrapped around Rhett Callahan’s mind as he stood at the chamber’s edge, watching the relic stone glow like a heartbeat under Camille’s hand. His spine stiffened. His body shivered, not from cold, but a sudden severing. Something had unplugged him from the world.

Then, the light vanished.

His knees buckled before he realized he was falling. Magnolia’s voice called his name, but her tone faded, as if through water. The stone floor rose up fast. And then, black.

He opened his eyes into a place that shouldn’t exist.

The sky was blood-red, hanging low over black sands that stretched beyond vision. Pillars of bone jutted like broken teeth. Ravens circled without sound, and the air smelled like iron and fire.

At the center of the desolate plain stood a throne. Carved from obsidian, etched in runes, it pulsed like a wounded organ. And seated upon it, his father.

Cassian Callahan.

He was dead. Burned with honor, mourned with rage. But here he was, alive in the way ghosts live when they’re tethered to memory and blood. His face was the same: chiseled jaw, hollow cheeks, the cruel glint in eyes that never softened.

"You came," the ghost said, voice calm as steel drawn slow.

Rhett took a shaky step forward. "This is a dream." freeweɓnøvel.com

"No," Cassian said. "This is your truth."

Rhett looked down. His clothes had changed. Gone were the war leathers and silver chains. He wore white robes, stained crimson across his chest. His hands trembled, no weapons, no sigils. He was bare.

"You weren’t built to rule, boy," Cassian said, rising. "You were born to finish what I started."

"Which was what?" Rhett asked through clenched teeth. "Waging war on the very blood that made us?"

Cassian’s lip curled. "You’ve grown soft. That girl, Magnolia, she’s made you blind. You think mating her will save you from what sleeps beneath your own skin?"

"I didn’t choose her to save me," Rhett said. "I chose her because no one else saw me."

Cassian barked a laugh. "She saw your weakness."

"She saw my soul."

"That’s worse."

Flames erupted behind the throne. They didn’t consume. They revealed. Dozens, no, hundreds, of shadowed figures appeared. Wolves. Ancestors. Past Alphas. Their eyes glowed with lunar fire. None moved. All watched.

"You carry all of them," Cassian said, stepping down. "Every lawbreaker. Every beast. Every shameful union our bloodline buried. You think you’re new? You’re recycled, Rhett. A relic born to end the line clean."

"Then why did you push me to lead?"

Cassian’s eyes darkened. "So you could learn to die for it."

He raised his hand. Rhett’s back exploded in pain. Claws, not seen but felt, raked from shoulder to spine. Blood dripped onto the sand, steaming.

Rhett fell to one knee, gasping.

"You are the vessel," Cassian whispered. "Just like she is. Camille was made to open the gate. You were made to close it, with your death."

"I won’t die for your mistakes," Rhett spat.

Cassian’s voice thundered. "You already have."

The sky trembled.

And Rhett screamed as a second set of claws tore down his back.

Then, light.

Soft. Warm. Familiar.

Magnolia.

Her hand rested on his cheek, her voice a whisper. "You’re burning. Wake up, Rhett."

He blinked. The throne vanished. The desert turned to stone walls again. He was back, on the chamber floor, body trembling, blood soaking through his torn tunic.

Camille hovered above him, eyes not her own. They pulsed silver and black, twin souls fighting for control.

"You cracked," she said. Her voice layered. "You let him in."

Rhett groaned, trying to sit up. "What... what is happening to me?"

"You’re not the only vessel," Camille whispered. "You carry half the gate. I carry the other. The seal... lives in both of us."

Celeste knelt beside them, her face white. "The bond is rupturing. Your pain is echoing through the link."

Magnolia leaned forward, pressing her palm to Rhett’s chest. Her skin flared with symbols, ancient glyphs that matched his wounds.

"Stop touching him," Celeste said sharply. "You’re not stabilizing him. You’re amplifying it."

"No," Magnolia whispered. "I’m listening."

Her eyes closed. Her body stilled. The air thickened.

Inside Rhett’s mind, the desert returned, but this time, Magnolia stood with him. She was barefoot, hair wind-swept, wrapped in a cloak of midnight feathers.

"You’re not alone here," she said, taking his hand. "Not anymore."

The claw marks on his back ceased burning. The throne shattered. Cassian screamed as if cast into fire.

And the desert vanished for good.

Rhett awoke in her arms.

No pain. Just breath.

Camille stared at them both, silent. Then slowly, she lifted the stone Beckett had unearthed.

It no longer glowed.

It pulsed.

And it beat to the same rhythm as Rhett’s chest.

Celeste backed away. "The bond isn’t cracking anymore."

Magnolia blinked. "Then what is it?"

Beckett answered, his voice hollow. "It’s sealing."

Camille nodded, her voice empty. "He was never meant to end the war. He’s meant to survive it."

"But how?" Rhett asked.

Camille stared through him. "By becoming what my sister died to prevent."

A pause.

"By becoming the gate."

And behind them, the relic stone shattered like glass.

The marble corridor pulsed with a silence so thick it felt like a living thing.

Stone walls, carved with the runes of Luna’s Creed, flickered under the soft light of enchanted sconces. The long banners of the elder council hung like execution robes, unmoved by breeze or breath. Every step Magnolia took echoed, a slow rhythm of judgment.

Behind her, Rhett’s boots struck the stone with less patience.

She didn’t slow. She couldn’t afford to. Not when every eye in the Hall of Blood was fixed on her as though she had dragged the curse in herself, tucked under her skin like a hidden knife.

Rhett caught up at the base of the stairs. "You shouldn’t be here alone."

"I’m not." Her voice was quieter than usual, but steady. "You’re here."

He exhaled, shoulders tense beneath his dark warcoat. His hand brushed the hilt of his blade, though it wasn’t the steel he wanted to reach for, it was her. But she moved a step ahead before he could make the mistake of tenderness in public.

They entered the high chamber, and the noise stopped like a blade through silk.

Thirteen elders stood in a crescent. They were draped in gray and bone-white robes, faces marked with the blood-paint of ancient law. Their eyes held the weight of centuries, and not one of them smiled.

Sterling stood at the center. Younger than the others but colder by far. His hair, like glinting frost, was pulled tight into a warrior’s tail. His hands were folded behind his back. His gaze pinned Magnolia like a wolf about to strike.

"You were summoned, Magnolia Blake," he said with that familiar, calculated calm. "And still, you walk in as if this is your throne."

"Why was I summoned?" she asked, chin high, voice poised. "Your letter didn’t say."

Sterling smiled. "You know why."

A hum rose behind her. Low, muttered voices. Whispers.

"She’s cursed..."

"The moon marks her..."

"Spellbinder filth..."

Magnolia didn’t flinch, but her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Celeste emerged from the back of the chamber. Her robes were darker than the others, laced with deep silver threads. Her long hair was twisted into a braid that nearly brushed her waist. She looked exhausted.

"This isn’t a hearing," she said sharply. "And it certainly isn’t a trial. You don’t get to call it that without proof."

Sterling turned toward her with false patience. "We have more than proof. We have prophecy. We have bloodlines tainted. We have relics trembling when she enters."

"She’s Luna-marked!" Rhett snapped. "The moon chose her."

"Or warned us," Sterling countered, voice calm but deadly. "A bloodline that echoes with screams. Do you deny her birth nearly collapsed the binding circle last solstice?"

The other elders murmured. Some nodded. One even stepped forward.

"She’s linked to the fallen line," said Elder Dymos. "The line that gave us the Burning Luna."

Celeste stiffened. "That’s ancient myth."

"Then explain the glyphs that appear when she dreams. The bone-cracks in the mirror vault. The fact that even the moonstone can’t reflect her shadow."

Magnolia blinked. Her shadow. She hadn’t noticed. Or perhaps... she had refused to.

Sterling’s tone turned gentle, the kind that made vipers seem kind. "We don’t seek to destroy you, Magnolia. Only to understand you."

Rhett moved then, fast. His boots struck the marble like thunder. He stepped in front of her. "No one touches her."

"Alpha," Sterling said quietly, "you’ve already broken tradition by mating her without full rite. Are you willing to break sacred law too?"

"If this law demands her blood, yes."

"Then you forfeit your voice in the coming trial."

Silence dropped like a guillotine.

Rhett froze. "You can’t, "

"I can," Sterling said. "And I just did."

Celeste’s eyes flashed. "You knew this was coming. You’ve baited it for moons."

"And now," Sterling said, "we offer her the Trial of the Ancients."

Magnolia stepped forward. "What does that mean?"

"It means," said one of the elder priestesses, "that you will face Luna herself in the Veil. Your soul judged. Your bond tested. If you survive, we cannot deny your right to reign. If you fail..."

"You’ll exile me?" Magnolia asked.

Sterling smiled. "We won’t have to. The veil will consume you."

Rhett’s voice broke the silence. "No."

But Celeste touched his arm. "If she doesn’t do this... they’ll burn her as they did the others."

Rhett’s face was carved from stone. "There’s no justice in this."

"There never was," Magnolia murmured.

A sharp laugh cracked the air. Everyone turned. From the far right, a cloaked figure stepped forward and placed a small vial into Sterling’s palm.

The liquid inside shimmered, violet with veins of black.

Sterling studied it with quiet delight. "Let the trial be fair," he said. "And let truth be revealed by blood."

Magnolia’s spine tensed.

Rhett didn’t blink. "What’s in the vial?"

Sterling pocketed it with a smile. "Let’s call it... clarity."

And across the chamber, Celeste’s lips parted in horror