Chapter 7 The Alpha's Oath

• The air inside the Heartgrove shimmered, as if breathing with Meher and Ayaan. Though the Jaagruk had retreated, their foul presence lingered at the edges, a reminder that time was slipping through their fingers.
• Meher stood before the ancient monolith, her hand resting gently on its cool surface. Tiny pulses of light danced beneath her touch, reacting to her presence. The connection was undeniable—she was chosen. But chosen for what exactly?
• Ayaan watched her, his expression torn between awe and fear. For centuries, he had waited for this moment. For the Seeker who might break the curse. For the woman whose bond with him was not a chain, but a key.
• “Meher,” his voice was soft, yet resolute, “there’s a rite that must be performed.”
• She turned to him, curious. “Another ancient ritual?”
• He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not a ritual. An oath. The Alpha’s Oath. It’s more than words—it binds my soul to yours, protects you, strengthens our bond. But it comes with risk.”
• “What risk?” she asked, stepping closer.
• “If the curse senses our bond becoming permanent, it will strike harder. The guardian will unleash every weapon at their disposal. Once I take the oath, there’s no going back.”
• Meher didn’t hesitate. “You think I’ve come this far to back away now?”
• His lips quirked upward. “I hoped you’d say that.”
• He guided her to the heart of the grove, where the light was strongest. The earth beneath them was soft, covered in silver-tinted moss. Ayaan knelt, bowing his head, his hand pressed over his heart.
• “I, Ayaan of the Garun Clan, Alpha of the Wild Moon, pledge my soul to Meher Malhotra, Seeker of the Ancients. My strength is hers, my life is hers. Where she walks, I follow. Where she falls, I rise. From this breath until my last howl beneath the stars.”
• The air thickened, the monolith’s glow intensifying. The words, though ancient, felt alive—wrapping around Meher like a silken thread of power.
• Without being told, she knelt before him, placing her palm over his heart.
• “I accept your oath, Ayaan of the Garun. I, Meher Malhotra, vow to stand beside you. To seek the truth, to break the curse, and to fight for the future of both our worlds. My heart knows yours. My soul calls to yours.”
• As her words faded, a surge of energy exploded outward.
• Light enveloped them, not harsh, but warm—like the embrace of the moon itself. For a breathless moment, the world beyond the grove ceased to exist. There was only them.
• When the light dimmed, Meher gasped.
• On Ayaan’s chest, beneath her hand, a new mark had appeared. An intricate symbol—a crescent moon entwined with two hearts. The bond was no longer just spiritual; it was now etched into their very beings.
• Ayaan looked at her, and for the first time, his golden eyes reflected hope. “We are bound, Meher. Truly bound.”
• But even as they shared that sacred moment, a chill swept through the grove.
• The curse had felt it.
• Far away, in the depths of the cursed lands, the guardian screamed in rage. The waters of the dark pool boiled, visions twisting into violent storms.
• “The fools dare defy fate,” the guardian hissed. “Then let the shadows devour them.”
• A new plan was set in motion.
• Back in the grove, Ayaan helped Meher to her feet. “We don’t have long. The Jaagruk will return, stronger than before. But with the bond sealed, you’ll be able to tap into the Ancients’ power.”
• Meher’s brow furrowed. “I don’t even know how.”
• “You’ll learn. And I’ll be with you every step.”
• Before she could respond, a soft rustling echoed through the grove. A figure stepped out from the trees—not a shadow, not a Jaagruk, but an old woman cloaked in emerald green. Her hair was silver, braided with tiny charms, her eyes the color of stormy skies.
• “A Seeker reborn,” she said, her voice carrying centuries of wisdom. “And an Alpha who dares defy his fate. The Heartgrove welcomes you.”
• Ayaan bowed his head. “Elder Ridhima. It’s been too long.”
• The elder smiled. “Too long indeed, my stubborn wolf. And yet, you bring hope.”
• She turned to Meher, studying her with sharp eyes. “The Mark of the Seeker suits you, child. But power without knowledge is a dangerous thing. You must learn the Old Ways.”
• Meher straightened her shoulders. “Then teach me.”
• Ridhima nodded, pleased. “Good. Time is against us, but the Ancients favor the brave.”
• For the next hours, the grove became their sanctuary and their training ground. Under Ridhima’s guidance, Meher learned to channel the pulse of the earth, to hear the whispers of the wind, to weave threads of light into protective sigils. Each lesson was demanding, yet exhilarating. The bond with Ayaan amplified her connection, making the magic flow more naturally.
• But not without cost.
• Every time Meher tapped into the Ancients’ power, she felt the curse’s shadow tugging at the edges of her mind. Dark whispers, tempting her to surrender, to fall into despair.
• Ayaan was always there, grounding her, reminding her of who she was.
• As the sun dipped below the horizon, Ridhima gathered them beneath the monolith.
• “The guardian will not wait much longer. They will strike at your heart, Meher. Be wary of dreams and illusions. The curse’s greatest weapon is not brute force, but deception.”
• Meher nodded, understanding the weight of those words.
• Before they could retreat for rest, a gust of cold wind swept through the grove. Leaves scattered as a new figure appeared—tall, broad, cloaked in wolf pelts.
• A Garun warrior.
• But his eyes were wrong. Black, bottomless, devoid of light.
• “Ayaan,” the warrior’s voice echoed, guttural and broken. “Your time is done. The Alpha of Shadows comes.”
• With inhuman speed, the warrior lunged.
• Ayaan met him head-on, the clash of their bodies sending shockwaves through the grove.
• Meher reached for the Chandrakirpan, her heart pounding. This was no ordinary rogue.
• This was the beginning of the curse’s final gambit.
• The Alpha of Shadows was coming.
• And their bond was about to face its first true trial.
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