Three days had passed since Selene claimed her birthright—the Crest of Aetheryn—and walked away from Damien Thorn without a scratch.
The Moonfang Pack hadn't been the same since.
Tension ran through its ranks like a taut wire ready to snap. Warriors whispered in corners, patrols doubled their rotations, and even the elders who once scoffed at Selene's name now avoided speaking it altogether. Something had shifted. Power, once unquestioned and centralized around Damien, was no longer absolute.
Meanwhile, in the mountains beyond Moonfang territory, deep within the ruins of the ancient court of the Royal Alphas, Selene stood before a circle of old stones, each engraved with the sigils of the once-great packs that had knelt before her ancestors.
The stone council site—long abandoned—had awakened the moment she wore the crest.
Tonight, she wasn't alone.
From the shadows, three figures emerged, each cloaked and hooded, faces hidden behind ceremonial masks of bone and silver.
These were not ordinary wolves.
They were members of the Council of Shadows—keepers of the old ways, loyal only to the bloodline of Aetheryn.
"You have called us," one said, a woman's voice low and reverent. "The blood answers."
"The crest pulses again," said another, male and deep-voiced. "That means the heir lives."
Selene nodded. "I am Selene Blackwood. Daughter of Lyra Aetheryn and Beta Daemon Blackwood. I have awakened the blood. The Moon Goddess confirmed it."
Silence followed.
Then the third figure removed their mask. An old woman, her face weathered but proud, stepped forward. "I served your mother. I watched her die for a throne she could never claim. If you are truly her child… then you have inherited more than just a legacy. You've inherited a war."
"I'm ready," Selene said without hesitation.
The old woman studied her. "Are you? Because the moment you step forward as the Alpha Queen, every Alpha in the northern packs will see you as a threat. They'll come for you. Some to challenge you. Some to kill you. And some…" Her eyes narrowed. "Some to claim you as a mate and control your bloodline."
Selene's lips curled slightly. "Let them try."
The man in the center raised his hand. "Then the ancient rite must be performed. You must prove yourself by reclaiming what was lost—the Circle of Unity. Bring together at least three powerful packs to swear allegiance to you. Only then will the throne be recognized by our laws."
Selene nodded. "And if I fail?"
"You die," the woman said simply. "And the Royal Line dies with you."
—
Later that night, Selene stood on the cliffs overlooking Moonfang territory, her cloak billowing in the wind. The moon was full, bathing the forest in cold silver light.
A rustle behind her.
"I thought you'd follow me," she said without turning.
Jace stepped out from behind a pine tree, hands raised. "I didn't come to fight."
"You always were Damien's shadow. I didn't expect you to be curious."
"I'm a Beta. I follow strength, not emotion."
Selene turned to face him. "Then why are you here?"
He hesitated before answering. "Because strength... doesn't always come from power. Sometimes it comes from pain. From survival. Damien rejected you, humiliated you—and yet here you stand, stronger than any Alpha I've seen."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering your allegiance?"
Jace's lips twitched into a half-smile. "I'm offering you information."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Go on."
"The Southern Packs are gathering at the Autumn Summit in five days. Alphas from three major territories will be there: Bloodfang, Nightmist, and Ironclaw. If you're serious about forming a new alliance, that's your chance."
"I assume they've already been warned about me?"
"Damien's making sure of it," Jace confirmed. "He's telling them you're dangerous. Power-mad. That you'll tear down every law that holds our world together."
Selene laughed softly. "He's not wrong. I will tear down their old laws. But I'll build something better."
She stepped toward Jace, her voice steady. "You risk a lot coming to me."
"I'm not loyal to Damien," he said. "I'm loyal to the future. And something tells me… you are the future."
He reached into his coat and handed her a scroll.
"What's this?"
"A blood treaty draft. If you manage to get three packs to sign this at the Summit, the Council of Elders will have to recognize your claim. Even Damien won't be able to stop it."
Selene accepted it, her fingers brushing his. For a brief moment, their eyes met—and something flickered. Not the pull of a mate bond, but something slower. Warier. Real.
She turned away quickly. She didn't have time for softness.
Not yet.
"I'll see you at the Summit," she said.
Jace nodded once and melted back into the trees.
—
Back at Moonfang, Damien watched the flames dance in his fireplace, a glass of blood-red wine swirling in his hand. Elira sat beside him on the fur rug, stroking his arm.
"She's gathering support," she said. "Jace is sniffing around her, too. I don't trust him."
"He's a soldier," Damien said without looking at her. "And soldiers go where the wind is strongest."
Elira leaned in, voice like silk. "If she gets three packs to sign a blood treaty, the Elders will have to back her. She'll become more than a rogue with a crest. She'll be Queen."
Damien's jaw clenched. He crushed the wine glass in his hand, letting the crimson liquid drip down like blood.
"Then I'll just have to make sure… she doesn't make it to the Summit."