"Leave this slaughterhouse, little wolf."

The ancient voice vibrated through the damp stone floor.

I gripped the edge of the silver basin. The thick crimson liquid rippled. Deep within the mirrored surface of my own extracted blood, the golden eye blinked.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my throat raw.

"Leave." The command hit my skull like a physical blow.

My inner wolf threw herself against my ribs. Bone cracked. Pain flared, sharp and blinding. Without Kael's pine scent to anchor the change, my beast remained trapped inside, thrashing blindly. She wanted to shift. She needed to tear through the cavern and rip the throats out of the wolves who had betrayed us. But the physical transformation refused to trigger.

I coughed, spitting a wad of dark blood onto the stone.

I snatched my silver High Warden badge from the floor. The metal felt freezing against my palm. I turned my back on the golden eye and walked out into the biting night wind.

The wooden doors of the Moon Temple stood wide open.

Inside, a woman swept gray dust from the obsidian floor. She wore robes of deep indigo.

"You bleed on my clean floor," she noted, leaning on her broom.

"Iona," I read the name stitched on her collar. "I need sanctuary."

"Silvercrest Lunas do not need sanctuary," Iona replied, her gaze dropping to my stomach.

"I am no longer Luna." I tossed the silver badge onto the altar steps. It clattered against the stone. "I severed the bond. I have nowhere else to go."

I pulled back the torn remnants of my shirt.

Three years ago, I sat at the Moonwell for seventy-two hours, bleeding my Moonvein dry to hold the barrier against a shadow-stalker siege. Three hundred and twelve Silvercrest members survived because of me. Three hundred and twelve tiny silver dots had tattooed themselves across my ribs in gratitude.

Now, only smooth, unblemished skin remained. The broken Luna bond had wiped away every trace of my sacrifice.

Iona stepped closer. She ignored the discarded badge. She stared at the glowing golden cracks webbing across my abdomen.

"You saved three hundred and twelve lives," Iona said, her voice flat. "Where are they tonight?"

"Sleeping safely in their beds," I replied. "Following their Alpha's orders."

"Loyalty is a fragile currency." Iona pointed to the stone bench. "Sit."

I collapsed onto the hard surface. My wolf rammed my ribs again. I grabbed my chest, gasping for air.

"My beast is trapped," I rasped. "The mate bond is gone. I cannot shift."

"You severed a twelve-year bond. Your wolf is in mourning." Iona turned to a wooden cabinet. "She will tear you apart from the inside if she does not find a new anchor."

"I do not want a new anchor. I want to survive."

"Survival requires understanding the weapon inside you." Iona pulled out three oval glass panes framed in tarnished bronze. Moon mirrors.

"Hold still," she instructed, arranging the mirrors in a semi-circle around my torso. "Let us see what your Alpha actually left inside you."

"He took my Moonvein. He gave it to Selene."

"Did he?" Iona adjusted the left mirror.

The glass flared with a blinding white light. Instead of reflecting my ruined shirt, the mirror showed the inside of my abdominal cavity.

I stared at the reflection. A thick, glowing golden root pulsed in the center of the wound. It was not bleeding out. It was moving.

"What is that?" I asked, my voice tight.

"Your second vein," Iona murmured, tilting the right mirror. "But it is not just sitting there."

The second mirror magnified the image. The golden tendrils were wrapping around the lingering pockets of black, necrotic blood left by Kael's bone-blade. The gold light hissed, dissolving the dark fluid and absorbing it into the root.

"It is eating the dead blood," Iona said.

"That is impossible," I countered. "A Moonvein only channels energy. It does not consume."

"Clearly, you do not know your own bloodline." Iona adjusted the third mirror, angling it over the core of the golden light.

"What do you know of my bloodline?" I challenged, gripping the edge of the bench.

"I clean the temple floors. I listen to the prayers of hypocrites. I see many things." Iona tapped the bronze frame. "This vein is hungry."

A high-pitched whine split the air. The bronze frame of the first mirror fractured.

A jagged line split the glass.

The second mirror shattered, showering the stone floor with glittering shards. The golden light from my stomach flared, rejecting the scrying magic.

Iona threw a hand over her eyes and kicked the third mirror away before it could explode.

"Your power is volatile," Iona stated, brushing glass dust from her indigo sleeves.

"Can you stabilize it?" I asked. The heat radiating from my core felt like a furnace.

"I am a temple keeper, not a god." Iona walked back to the wooden cabinet. She rummaged through the lower shelves.

My inner wolf clawed at my chest cavity again. The sheer force of her panic threatened to snap my sternum. I doubled over.

"Make it stop," I gritted out.

"I cannot soothe your wolf," Iona said, turning back around. She held a brass hourglass filled with shimmering black sand.

She walked over and slammed the hourglass onto the stone bench beside me.

"What is this?" I stared at the falling sand.

"A timer," Iona replied.

"For what?"

Iona flipped the brass hourglass over, resetting the black sand. "If you do not let the gold vein complete its first cycle within seventy-two hours, your heart will burn first."

The first grain of red sand dropped through the narrow neck of the brass hourglass, hitting the glass bottom with a sharp tick.

"Lie flat," Iona ordered, shoving my shoulders down until my spine pressed against the cold obsidian floor inside the circle of moon mirrors. "If you flinch when the metal touches your skin, the golden root will puncture your heart."

"Do it," I gritted out, gripping the edges of the stone bench above my head.

Iona knelt beside me, holding a velvet pouch filled with twelve flat, circular discs of cold silver. She pulled the first disc out and pressed it against the glowing skin beneath my right ribcage.

A hiss of steam rose from my flesh. The golden light inside my abdomen recoiled from the pure metal, swerving sharply to the left.

"That is one," Iona said, her voice steady. "The silver acts as a wall. We herd the vein into a loop around your chest cavity until it learns its new path."

"It burns," I rasped through clenched teeth.

"Everything burns when you rebuild from nothing," she replied, pressing the second disc above my hip, then the third near my sternum. "Tell me when the pressure hits your lungs."

"Now," I gasped as the fourth and fifth discs slapped onto my skin. The golden tendril surged upward, fleeing the cold silver, thrashing wildly beneath my ribs like a trapped snake.

"Hold your position, Lyra." Iona grabbed my wrist, pinning my arm flat to the floor as she laid down the sixth, seventh, and eighth discs in a tight arc around my left collarbone. "We are steering it past the main artery now. Do not move."

She reached into the pouch for the ninth piece of silver.

Before her fingers could touch my skin, a violent crimson flash tore through the high arched windows of the temple. The ancient protective barrier around the obsidian pillars groaned, sparking with jagged violet energy before ripping wide open.

A glowing red parchment materialized in the air above my chest, stamped with the unmistakable impression of the Silvercrest Alpha signet.

"A Rogue Seal," Iona said, dropping the ninth silver disc onto the floor. She stepped back, her eyes wide. "He signed a formal banishment order."

The red parchment dissolved into a shower of burning crimson sparks that rained down onto my body. The sparks bypassed the glowing golden vein in my stomach and gravitated to the ruined crescent-moon scar on my left collarbone.

My throat locked up. A scream fought to tear out of my mouth, but my lungs refused to expand.

The Rogue Seal recognized the remnants of Kael's mate mark as an illegal brand on an outcast wolf. The crimson sparks began to scorch the exact same patch of raw, blistered skin I had clawed apart an hour ago, burning deep into the muscle.

"He is stripping your remaining transit rights," Iona yelled over the crackle of burning flesh. "The seal is cutting off the temple's ambient energy! I cannot place the last four discs!"

To my right, the tallest moon mirror vibrated under the pressure of the Alpha's curse. A hairline fracture split the center of the glass, and then the entire pane exploded outward, showering us in sharp, tarnished fragments.

The golden root inside my gut sensed the gap where the mirror had stood. It whipped toward the opening, aiming straight for my heart.

"Lyra, stop the flow!" Iona lunged for the scattered silver discs, but the crimson sparks from the Rogue Seal whipped toward her hands, forcing her back. "If the root touches your heart valves now, you will incinerate!"

I did not waste energy screaming at Kael's cruelty. I did not waste time cursing the red seal that continued to fry the flesh of my collarbone.

I slammed my left palm into the open, bleeding wound on my abdomen.

"What are you doing?" Iona shouted.

"Building a bridge," I snarled.

I scooped a handful of my own thick, dark blood from the cavity and slapped my wet palm against the empty bronze frame of the shattered moon mirror. I dragged my bloody hand in a circle across the metal border, sealing the gap with my own life fluid.

The golden root paused. It sensed the fresh blood coating the frame and turned away from my heart, rushing toward the crimson smear instead.

"Guide it!" I commanded, pointing my free hand at the remaining silver discs on the floor. "Place the ninth piece now, Iona!"

Iona grabbed the silver disc from the stone and slammed it down over my lower ribs, right where the golden light tried to branch off.

The root hissed, bouncing off the silver wall, then followed the path of my blood along the bronze frame. It looped safely around the outer edge of my chest cavity, completing its first full circuit just as the red sparks from the Rogue Seal finally fizzled out against my blackened collarbone.

My head fell back against the obsidian floor. I stared at the ceiling, my chest heaving as the golden light settled into a steady, rhythmic pulse inside my veins.

"You used your own blood to feed the circuit," Iona whispered, staring at the red-stained bronze frame. "You should be dead from shock."

"It takes more than a piece of paper to kill me," I said, wiping a streak of sweat from my forehead.

A cloying scent drifted through the broken temple windows, rolling over the sharp metallic tang of my blood and the lingering smoke of the Rogue Seal.

Gardenias. Thick, sweet, and suffocating.

Above the iron gates at the entrance of the sanctuary, the bronze guardian bell rattled. It rang once. Twice. Three times, echoing through the hollow hall without a single breath of wind to stir the clapper.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, ignoring the protest of my freshly burned collarbone.

The iron doors creaked inward, pushing aside the scattered gray dust on the floor.

Selene stepped over the stone threshold. She wore a thick wool cloak over her white dress, and hanging front and center against her chest was the silver guest token I had signed for her eighteen months ago.

She smiled, her gaze dropping to the bloody circle on my stomach, and then to the shattered glass surrounding my bare feet.

"Sister," Selene said, her voice echoing brightly across the temple walls. "I am here to take you home."

Home. The word soured on my tongue.

My eyes locked on Selene's waist. Hanging from a pristine leather belt was the bone-handled knife. The exact blade Kael had used to hollow out my stomach an hour ago. A faint, dark stain still clung to the hilt.

Footsteps thudded against the stone threshold. Kael stepped out of the night fog, flanked by twelve Silvercrest hunters. The metallic clink of silver arrest chains filled the quiet sanctuary.

"She is no longer a resident of Silvercrest," Kael announced. His gaze swept over the shattered glass on the floor, then settled on my bloody abdomen. "Lyra Vale, you are a Rogue. You are coming with us to the holding cells."

"Twelve hunters for a bleeding Rogue?" I asked, leaning my weight against the cold stone bench. "You flatter me, Alpha."

"Secure her," Kael ordered the men.

The hunters moved forward, their chains dragging across the obsidian floor.

Iona stepped between the armed men and my injured body. She raised her wooden broom, holding it like a battle staff. "No weapons cross the Moon Temple threshold. Hand over the blade."

She pointed at Selene's waist.

Kael frowned, his jaw tight. "This is pack business, Iona. Step aside."

"This is a sanctuary," Iona shot back, her tone flat and unyielding. "I inspect all drawn steel. Or bone."

Selene offered a sweet, trembling smile. She placed a hand on Kael's arm. "It is fine, Kael. I have nothing to hide from the temple."

She unclipped the sheath. As she drew the bone-handled knife to hand it to Iona, her fingers slipped down the grip. The sharp edge sliced across her own palm.

Dark, thick blood welled from the cut. It smeared across the bone handle, dripping onto the floor.

"Oh!" Selene gasped, clutching her wrist.

"You cut yourself," Kael said, stepping forward to examine her hand.

"I am just clumsy," Selene whispered, her eyes darting to me. "The black blood... it is just the corruption from my broken Moonvein. Do not worry about the mess on the blade, Iona."

She held the knife out, the handle now slick with her dark blood. It mixed perfectly with the residue of my own insides. She called me sister, then sliced her skin with the very tool that had carved out my power.

"Give it to me," I demanded.

I pushed past Iona and snatched the blade from Selene's outstretched hand. The metal felt heavy, still warm from her blood.

"Lyra, drop the weapon!" Kael barked. He reached for his own sword. The twelve hunters raised their chains, the links rattling in a threatening chorus.

I ignored their posturing. I crouched down, ignoring the flare of pain in my gut, and scooped up my discarded High Warden badge from the floor. The silver eagle emblem was bent. The edges were sharp from where it had struck the stone earlier.

"You claim this black blood is from your broken vein, Selene?" I asked, turning the bone handle under the temple's dim light.

"It is," she said, her voice pitching into a perfect, wounded tremble. "You know how sick I have been, Lyra."

"I know a lie when I smell it." I jammed the sharp edge of my ruined silver badge straight into the deep groove carved along the knife's hilt.

I scraped hard. Metal ground against bone.

"Stop her!" Selene yelled, her sweet facade cracking.

I twisted the badge and yanked it downward. A thick chunk of dried black residue popped out of the groove and landed on my palm. It did not smell like blood. It smelled like sulfur and rotting swamp weed.

"Blackroot ash," Iona stated, staring at the dark clump in my hand. "Native only to the Nightshade Swamp."

Kael froze. His hand hovered over his sword hilt. "That is impossible. Nightshade materials are banned. They corrupt Moonwell energy."

"Exactly," I said, flicking the ash onto the pristine white fabric of Selene's cloak. "This knife was not just a surgical tool to save a sick wolf. It was coated in illegal ash to siphon power."

I looked right at Kael, watching the confusion war with his authority. "You used a dark magic blade to cut me open. Did you know?"

Kael stared at the dark ash clinging to Selene's cloak. "Selene provided the blade. She told me it was an ancient healing tool from her old pack."

"I did not know about the ash!" Selene cried, taking a quick step back. "The merchants must have lied to me! Kael, you have to believe me."

Her hand shook. She reached out to take the knife back from me, but her bloody fingers fumbled against the bone hilt. The knife slipped from our shared grip and fell.

It hit the obsidian floor with a sharp, echoing crack.

The impact knocked a loose piece of the bone handle free. The grip split open on the floor, revealing the flat inner tang of the blade.

Nine deep, jagged notches were carved into the hidden metal.

They were not Silvercrest marks. They were kill counts from a different pack, etched deeply into the steel.

Kael stepped past Selene. He stared down at the nine unfamiliar notches pointing up at his boots. He reached out, his fingers curling to pick up the broken weapon.

Selene lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. "Do not look."