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."