Chapter 45: The Great Helix Mate Stampede

A Beta near the perimeter closed his eyes. He had been rained on, flashed by a priestess, nearly killed by a rotating woman, and was now seeing hundreds of draftees jump up and down and clap.

"ONE MATCH," the priestess called, her voice climbing over the applause with practiced volume. "For the warriors of Helix, the Goddess presents your chosen. Let any unfated draftee who-"

WHOOOOM.

The emerald flame erupted again, tripling in height. Then green wolves of light poured from the base of the fire like a dam breaking. They scattered in every direction, sprinting to the draftees in the back, each one locking onto a woman who had drawn a green flame.

At the same time, their counterparts launched across the clearing towards the ranked warriors, nudging, bumping, herding grown men across sacred ground with the subtlety of border collies managing a flock that outweighed them by two hundred pounds per head.

Nova had imagined something orderly. A name called. A pair announced. A polite walk across the clearing with maybe some dignified eye contact and a ceremonial handshake.

This was a zoo.

Wolves of light were zigzagging between people’s legs. Warriors were being herded by luminous animals towards draftees.

One draftee was being nudged from behind by a wolf that had given up on gentle and was now using its full body weight against her legs. She was laughing. The warrior it was pushing her towards was laughing. Everyone around them was laughing. The sacred ceremony had turned into a petting zoo run.

It looked just like the fated pairing before. Were these more fated mates?

Nova watched as human eyes surged into wolf colors, glowing in the dark. Warriors immediately snapped into hunters, like they were possessed. It was bizarre and adorable in equal measure. Almost like their fated matebonds were there all along, but needed to be uncovered.

Nova had always been under the impression that fated mates could sense each other because fated meant there was a matebond before marking. She knew marking on top of the fated part made those the strongest. But clearly she didn’t understand the mechanics.

"Fated mates are usually connected by a small string of light. These wolves made of light are a great addition," Maria said approvingly to Nova.

Nova’s jaw dropped. "I’m not doing—" Her eyes widened. "You mean these wolves coming out of the fire aren’t the usual?"

Maria gave a dark laugh. "Oh no. These are a supernova special."

"I promise I am not controlling it," Nova said. She had genuinely thought the wolves were part of the ceremony.

"They think you are," Seraphina piped in, still holding Nova’s other arm hostage.

Nova glanced over her shoulder to find every draftee looking at her, like they were waiting for her to make more green wolves come out of the fire. She hadn’t realized until now that the only emerald draftees who’d gotten fated mates were the ones who went after her.

"Oh," she breathed, looking back at the fire, prepared to visualize more green wolves as hard as she could.

Across the clearing, the umbrella elder pulled a flask from his robes and drank from it with a thousand-yard stare. All the elders around him were hollering about protocol violations.

"YOU. YES, YOU. PUT HER DOWN. VERTICAL."

A Stonefall wolf was carrying his mate horizontally, arms fully extended, walking sideways through his section and did not hear the elder. A packmate ducked. The one behind him didn’t.

"DRAFTEES WILL REMAIN ON THEIR OWN FEET. I WILL NOT REPEAT MYSELF."

The elder repeated himself four times.

"ALL MALES PUT DRAFTEES DOWN ON THE GROUND."

A Frostveil wolf had his mate draped over his shoulders like a scarf. She was talking to another woman, who was also being carried horizontal.

"ALPHAS, CONTROL YOUR WARRIORS OR I WILL SHUT THIS CEREMONY DOWN."

Every Alpha in the clearing developed selective deafness at the same time. It was the most coordinated thing they’d done all night.

The warriors were acting on instinct and did not care about rules. The Alphas did not care if their boys picked up their mates.

It took ten minutes.

Ten minutes of luminous-wolf-guided, sacred-ground-crossing, mate-finding bedlam. Warriors stood with women they’d met sixty seconds ago, looking at each other with expressions that ranged from shell-shocked to smitten.

The last green wolf trotted back to the flame with the satisfied energy of a golden retriever who had successfully fetched like a good boy. It leaped into the fire and dissolved.

"—VIOLATION OF HELIX LAW. THIS WILL BE THE LAST WARNING ISSUED BEFORE FORMAL CHARGES—"

Nova startled, just realizing one of the yelling elders was moving towards her. She hadn’t realized he was addressing her until now. In her defense, the elders had been barking announcements at various intervals all evening with the consistency of a fire alarm.

Every torch in the clearing changed from green to white and doubled in height simultaneously. Nobody reacted to it, which was progress as a group.

"YOU WILL CEASE MANIPULATING THE SACRED FLAME IMMEDIATELY OR I WILL HAVE YOU STERILIZED, 7709." The elder stabbed a finger at her from ten feet away, his voice loud enough to rattle teeth. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Nova looked down at her hands again.

"Yes, Elder. But I am not doing anything to control—"

"SILENCE. YOU HAVE CORRUPTED THE MOST SACRED CEREMONY IN HELIX HISTORY. EVERY MATCH MADE TONIGHT IS NOW SUSPECT. EVERY FATED MATEBOND CALLED INTO QUESTION. YOU HAVE SINGLE-HANDEDLY UNDERMINED THE GODDESS’S AUTHORITY AND I WILL SEE YOU STERILIZED!"

"Threaten her again with that, Elder, and we are going to have a problem. She has said multiple times that she is not controlling it. Someone on the elders panel write that down."

The voice came from the Thunderfang section. The elder looked up at the sky like the Moon Goddess might offer an answer.

"I see warriors who found their mates. That is the point of this ceremony," Alpha Emberclaw cut in. "There will be no matebonds called into question in my pack."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE ISN’T CONTROLLING IT? EVERY EMERALD DRAFTEE WHO WENT AFTER HER MAGICALLY HAS A FATED MATE. WE GET ONE OR TWO PER MOONFIRE."

He was breathing hard. His finger was still out.

The clearing was quiet.

Nova stood between two princesses in a borrowed cloak, glowing softly, hair still floating, face neutral.

Every ounce of joy that had filled this clearing had been sucked out so fast the vacuum should have popped ears.

The elder returned to the panel, sat down, and the umbrella elder handed him the flask without being asked.

"What we are trying to say, 7709, is please do not interfere with the ritual. It has been done a certain way for two thousand years," another elder echoed in a softer voice, like that was the problem.

It wasn’t.

Nova gave a dazed nod and turned back to the fire, hoping that if she ignored them they would go away. This strategy had never once worked in her life.

She stared at the flame. The flame stared back, burning steady and white at its normal ten-foot height, behaving itself.

The priestess took Nova’s gaze as a cue.

This was incorrect. Nova was looking at the fire because looking at the fire meant looking away from the elders. But the priestess had apparently decided that the screaming-about-abominations phase of their relationship had transformed into mentee-mentor.

"Any unfated emerald draftee form a neat, orderly line to receive their chosen mate."

A line formed in silence.

"Carmen Ranger from Lumencrest," the elder announced. "Matched with Lieutenant Ronald Wilson from Prismheart."

"Hold all applause to the end," another elder added.

Unnecessary. No one clapped.

Carmen and the warrior met in the middle. They shook hands like it was a business transaction or like that guy had zero game and no matebond to help. Carmen followed him back to his pack. There was no carrying or wolf surging in recognition

The elder was already calling the next name before they made it.

It was the equivalent of waiting in line at the Helix Census Bureau.