INICIAR SESIÓNThe word hung in the air like a bad smell.Poison.***Mae’s grip on Daire’s wrist tightened. She shoved his sleeve up with no regard for decorum, fingers tracing the darkening veins under his skin.“Coren!” she snapped over her shoulder. “Get me a kit. Now.”The big Lunaris elder moved faster than anyone his size had a right to, sprinting toward the healer’s cache near the training ring.Daire tried to pull his arm back.“I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “Just tired.”Nyra’s gaze cut to his face.“You’re grey,” she said. “And not in a handsome Lunaris way. Shut up and stand still.”He opened his mouth to snarl.His knees wobbled.That killed the argument.He let Mae ease him down to sit on the low wall, jaw locked.Around them, Nightmoor wolves watched—some with worry, some with the sharpening interest predators reserved for wounded leaders.Calista’s eyes gleamed.On the Tribunal slope above, a few observers conferred in low voices.“Alpha poisoned in “honorable” duel—”“—
The ring closed around them like a promise.Or a trap.***Nightmoor and its allies packed the perimeter—wolves shoulder to shoulder, scents thick with fear, anger, and the ugly, hungry tang of people who’d come to see blood.Closer to Kael’s side, Calista’s supporters clustered—sleek, well‑dressed wolves whose loyalty smelled more of coin and fear than affection. A few wore discrete Dravenne insignia on cuffs or collars, subtle markers of which side of the ledger they’d chosen.Calista herself stood just beyond the observer line, flanked by a pair of tribunal enforcers who pretended to be neutral security. Her white dress gleamed against the darker Nightmoor palette. She looked like a queen to come to watch a tourney she’d already rigged.“Eyes on the circle,” Nyra murmured to Daire as she stepped back from the boundary. “Not on the peanut gallery.”He gave a curt nod.Across from him, Kael rolled his shoulders, loosening muscles with the easy confidence of a man who’d practiced in m
The Tribunal envelope felt thin in Daire’s hand.The weight behind it did not.***He slit it open with a thumbnail.Paper slid out—crisp, white, full of neat lines of text that pretended to be neutral.> NOTICE OF HEARING – BIRTH‑CLAIM PROTOCOL > Subject: Lunaris Heir (unborn) > Mother: Elowen [REDACTED] a’Lunaris > Petitioner: Calista Dravenne, Acting Luna Authority (provisional) > Date: To be set upon the conclusion of the Nightmoor leadership challenge.Daire’s jaw tightened.“Of course,” he muttered. “They time my pack’s fate and my child’s fate in the same breath.”Nyra peered over his shoulder and made an eloquent, filthy noise.“They’re efficient,” she said. “I’ll give them that.”Mae’s eyes flicked to the line about the date.“They won’t set the hearing until after the duel,” she said. “They want to know which Alpha they’ll be negotiating with. You win, they get “unstable besotted Alpha.” Kael wins, they get “cooperative Tribunal‑friendly Alpha.” Either way, they’re
The name sounded pretty.It wasn’t.***“Sanctum Meridian,” Soryn said, rolling the words like something she’d rather spit. “High Howl calls it a “neutral evaluation facility.” It is not neutral. And it was never built for “safety.””Elowen sat at the small table in her “protective wing” room, an ankle band humming faintly. The comm rune on the wall glowed with a weak Lunaris link—voice only, no visuals; it was the best Kieran and Soryn had scraped through tribunal filters.“Tell me,” Elowen said.Soryn’s voice came cool and clear. “Meridian was commissioned after the last bloodline panic. A place to “appraise” dangerous anomalies. They consulted every defector, every frightened House willing to sell old ward patterns, every Tribunal‑friendly witch who wanted to test new toys. The result is a sanctum whose very walls are designed to mute what runs in your veins.”“Neutralize bloodlines,” Kieran added. His voice was rough—tired and angry. “Not just Lunaris. Any lineage they decide “nee
Crowe’s words rolled over Moonfall like oil.“By Tribunal authority, the Lunaris heir is now under state protection.”For a heartbeat, nothing moved.Then the world snapped.***Soryn Eirwen did not shout.She stepped forward to the lip of the dais bowl, lifted her chin, and let the old Lunaris wards carry her voice.“Witnesses of Covenant,” she called. “You have seen a Rite requested, a Rite honored, and a Rite completed. You have also seen High Howl breaches that circle with force, hood our heir on our stone, and drag her away under false name.”Her gaze cut to the observer platform.“This is not “state protection,”” she said, every syllable cold and exact. “It is theft. A war action taken against House Lunaris. We name it so. We will answer it so.”The word *war* dropped heavier than anything Crowe had said.Lunaris wolves straightened.Some Nightmoor wolves went still.On the platform, several judges blanched.“Archmatron,” Judge Ravel snapped, seizing on outrage as a shield again
The hood smelled like old cloth and new ink.And fear.***Elowen’s world snapped to black.Fabric rasped over her hair, sigil‑threads sparking cold against her skin. The hood clung to her mouth and nose, not enough to choke, enough to make every breath a reminder that someone else had decided what she could see.Hands tightened on her arms—one on her right bicep, another clamping hard above her left elbow. A third hand grabbed at the chain at her waist and pulled.Her body lurched.For a heartbeat, the urge to *panic* was huge and total. To thrash, to scream, to blow the circle and everything around it apart.The baby spiked under her palm, a sudden, frantic drumbeat.No.She dragged the instinct back.In on four.Out on six.She couldn’t see.But she could still feel.The Gate’s field was gone now—Rite closed, authority fading—but the old Lunaris stone still hummed somewhere under her boots, even as they left the dais.Her power surged against the hood’s dampening runes like water a







