Chapter 3: Trigger

SELENA didn't know how long she’d been unconscious. When she finally clawed her way back to awareness, it wasn't the cold stone that dominated her senses, but a low, rhythmic thrumming. It vibrated through her bones, through the very air of her cell, a deep, resonant hum that intensified with every beat of her frantic heart. The moonlight filtering through the high window was no longer a sliver; it was a broad, silver stream, bathing the cell in an ethereal glow.

Full moon.

A cold dread coiled in her gut. Waldemar’s words from the previous night echoed in her mind: "On the eve of the full moon… A night of rituals." The thrumming intensified, accompanied now by a faint, distant chanting, a primal, guttural sound that raised the hairs on her arms. This wasn't just a ritual. This was a pack gathering, a powerful culmination of their collective strength.

She tugged at her chains, desperately, uselessly. The iron chafed her wrists raw, but the manacles held fast. Her magic, still a dull ache beneath her skin, felt more active now, restless, stirring in response to the growing energy outside. It was a terrifying sensation, a wild thing inside her straining against its leash, a power she knew could shatter mountains if properly wielded, but now felt like a curse.

The heavy door creaked open again. Not Waldemar this time. It was Adler, the Beta, his golden eyes blazing with undisguised animosity. Two other hulking wolves, shifted into their human forms, stood behind him, their expressions mirroring Adler's disdain.

"Up, witch," Adler snarled, his voice a low growl, devoid of patience. "Alpha's orders. You're needed at the ritual."

“Needed?" Selene scoffed, narrowing her eyes, her chin lifting in an act of pure defiance. "Or paraded like a prize in your freakshow?” She straightened her shoulders, ignoring the ache in her bones.

Adler merely smirked, a cruel twist of his lips. "Consider yourself honored. Most trespassers don’t get a front-row seat. Let alone center stage.” His gaze dropped to her bound wrists, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

He gestured to the guards. "Unchain her. But keep her leashed."

A guard stepped forward, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. With a series of clicks and scrapes, the iron manacles opened. Relief flooded Selene’s wrists, but it was short-lived. As soon as she was free, another guard snapped a thick, rough rope around her wrists, binding them together. The rope felt almost alive, pulsing with a faint, binding enchantment that pricked her skin.

"Don't even think about it," Adler warned, as if reading her mind. "This rope is imbued with our Alpha's essence. It'll burn if you try to use your magic against it. Or against us." He gave a sharp tug, pulling her forward.

They marched her out of the dungeon, up a winding, stone staircase that smelled of damp earth and ancient power. As they ascended, the chanting grew louder, more hypnotic, weaving into the very fabric of the night. The air grew colder, charged with a palpable energy that made Selene’s teeth ache, a sharp current running through her very being.

They emerged into a vast, open clearing bathed in the brilliant, otherworldly light of the full moon. It hung high above, a luminous orb, casting stark shadows across the faces of hundreds of wolves gathered below. Their golden and amber eyes, all fixed on the center of the clearing, glittered in the moonlight. The collective hum of their power was deafening, a roar of energy that vibrated in her bones, a raw, primal force thrumming beneath her feet.

In the very center stood Waldemar.

He was magnificent, primal, bathed in moonlight. He wore nothing but dark trousers, his powerful torso gleaming, covered in the tribal markings of his pack. He stood before a massive stone altar, intricately carved with ancient wolf symbols, a place where raw magic was clearly harnessed. He radiated power, a living conduit for the moonlight, his presence a magnet for every eye, every wolf. He was the undisputed center of their world, a king in his element.

He felt her presence. His head lifted, his molten gaze cutting through the assembled pack, finding her instantly amidst the throng. His eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation, then something else. Something possessive and undeniable, a primal hunger that sent a jolt through her.

Selene glared back, lifting her chin, a silent challenge. “Don’t look at me like I’m yours.” Her voice was low, barely audible over the growing chant, but he heard it.

Waldemar’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl, a dangerous glint in his golden eyes. “Don’t lie to both of us, Selene.”

Adler pushed her forward, his hand digging into her back. "Move, witch. Don't make this harder."

Selene stumbled, her eyes locked with Waldemar's. His presence was overwhelming, even from a distance, a gravitational pull she couldn't escape. The Moonbind, his words from the night before, echoed in her mind;

You crave me. Your body screams for mine. 

A terrifying, unwelcome warmth stirred in her lower belly, a visceral reaction to his raw power that infuriated her. Her body was betraying her, responding to the enemy Alpha.

They brought her to the edge of the clearing, not far from the altar, where the Alpha’s inner circle stood. She recognized some of the faces: older, grizzled warriors, stern-faced women, all glaring at her with suspicion and outright hatred. She felt their animosity like a physical blow, a collective wave of resentment that tightened the air around her.

Waldemar began to speak, his voice deep and resonant, cutting through the growing chanting. He spoke of the pack, of their ancestors, of the strength of the moon, of their bond to the land. His words were a powerful incantation, weaving the pack’s energy into a singular, formidable force. 

As he spoke, the light around him seemed to intensify, the very air vibrating with a potent, tangible energy that hummed with a life of its own.

Selene felt her own magic responding, tugging, pulling, drawn to the sheer power radiating from Waldemar. It was like a moth to a flame, dangerous and irresistible. Her magic, an integral part of her being, resonated with his, a chaotic harmony. The rope around her wrists tightened, biting into her skin as her magic strained against it, desperate to reach out, to connect, to merge with the immense power surrounding her.

"Tonight," Waldemar's voice boomed, amplified by the ritual, echoing through the clearing, "we strengthen our bonds! We renew our vows! We claim what is ours!" His golden eyes swept over his pack, then landed on Selene, a predatory gleam in their depths. His gaze pinned her, claiming her without a single touch. "And tonight, the stray finds her leash!"

A collective gasp rippled through the gathered wolves, followed by murmurs that quickly rose to a roar. Adler nudged her forward again, pushing her closer to the altar, a grim satisfaction on his face. The chanting swelled, becoming a roaring tide of sound that pounded in her head, threatening to shatter her very thoughts.

Selene felt herself being drawn, pulled as if by an invisible string. Her magic, no longer simply stirring, was now a raging torrent beneath her skin, responding to the raw, unleashed power of the full moon ritual. It was a feedback loop, the ritual feeding her magic, and her magic, in turn, feeding the ritual, spiraling into an uncontrollable crescendo.

"Stop this!" she shouted, her voice thin against the overwhelming din, breath catching in her throat. "I didn’t ask for any of this!" Her defiance was a desperate plea against the inevitable.

Waldemar stepped forward, slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, his expression a mixture of grim determination and something else, something she couldn't quite decipher. “You didn't have to,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the noise, reaching only her. “The Moonbind doesn't ask. It chooses.”

"I am not yours!" she shouted, her voice shaking with fury—and a chilling thread of fear, because a part of her, the most primal, instinctual part, was already beginning to believe his terrifying words.

Waldemar’s voice dropped, low and dark, a predatory challenge. “Then why does your magic scream for mine?”

"This is not happening," she muttered, fighting against the invisible current, against the undeniable pull. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to sever the connection, to break free of the intoxicating lure of Waldemar's power, but it was useless. It was already too late.

"The Moonbind," Waldemar’s voice echoed in her mind, a phantom whisper, but so clear it felt as if he were right beside her. 

You are bound to me now. Physically. Emotionally. Magically.

As the chanting reached a fever pitch, Waldemar raised his hands, palms open to the full moon. A brilliant shaft of silver light descended, bathing him in its glow, making him seem like a god, a conduit for pure lunar power. The energy in the clearing surged, a tangible wave of power that crashed over Selene, knocking the air from her lungs.

Her magic flared, uncontrolled, an answering burst of silver light erupting from her own body. It wasn't intentional. It was primal. A desperate, almost violent response to the sheer power overwhelming her, a mirror image of the force emanating from Waldemar. The binding rope around her wrists glowed white-hot, burning into her flesh, searing her skin, but even that couldn't contain the wild magic now surging through her, demanding release.

The combined force of the ritual and her own uncontrolled power created a chaotic vortex of energy in the center of the clearing. The air shrieked, a high-pitched keen, the ground trembled beneath her feet, cracks appearing in the ancient stone altar. Wolves cried out, some thrown backward by the sheer force, others collapsing, overwhelmed.

And then, something snapped.

Not the rope, though it felt as if it might. It was something deeper. A connection. A violent, searing pull, like a physical cord being yanked taut between her core and Waldemar's. A wave of pure, unadulterated craving slammed into her, hot and undeniable, stealing her breath. It wasn't just desire; it was a desperate, primal hunger, a need so profound it eclipsed everything else. It was the deepest, most carnal part of her soul, roaring for him.

Waldemar’s head snapped towards her, his eyes wide, no longer just molten gold, but glowing with an almost blinding light. He felt it too. The undeniable surge of the Moonbind, suddenly, violently, undeniably complete. His powerful frame stiffened, every muscle tensed, as if fighting an unseen force.

Selene gasped, her body convulsing, her knees buckling under the weight of it. The craving was so intense it was agonizing, pushing her to the brink of collapse. Her body arched, wracked by an unbearable pleasure-pain that threatened to consume her. Her magic pulsed, no longer muffled, but raw and unrestrained, pouring out of her, drawn directly towards Waldemar, fusing with his power in a dizzying, terrifying dance, binding them together.

“N-no… I won’t—” she choked out, fighting against the powerful, sensual pull that threatened to swallow her whole.

Waldemar stepped forward, eyes wide now, disbelieving, a flicker of pure shock in their depths, quickly replaced by a possessive inferno. He was reeling, just as she was.

"Selene…" he breathed, his voice hoarse, a revelation dawning in his eyes. "You feel it too."

"Get out of my head!" she sobbed, the magic dragging her closer, ripping her open in ways she didn’t understand, forcing her to confront a terrifying truth. “This isn’t me! I didn’t choose this!”

Waldemar’s voice was a low growl, raw and pained, utterly devoid of triumph. “Neither did I.”

She fell, trembling, her body wracked by the intense connection. The scent of him—his power—invaded everything. Her blood, her lungs, her skin. It was everywhere, inside her, suffocating and exhilarating all at once.

And in her last moment of consciousness, as the silver light consumed her, one word echoed in her mind, a curse and a vow, a terrifying acceptance that was utterly, irrevocably, her own.

“Mine.”