MasukThe Tribunal did not fall in a single dramatic day.It eroded.Crowe’s testimony and the auction feeds shattered its aura of neutrality. Soryn’s decrees and the packs’ new warrants cracked its structure. Lunaris teams followed the ledgers like blood trails, cutting off funding, and burning reallocation routes that had once been secret as veins.It took months.Courthouses that had once flown tribunal banners now flew local sigils or Lunaris crescents, or nothing at all. Offices where clerks had filed “asset evaluations” now housed independent advocates and pack councils.Birth‑claim devices were confiscated and dismantled, their scripts carefully reversed and recorded, so no one could ever pretend the old “necessities” hadn’t been cruelty.And in Nightmoor, life went on.Roads were repaired.Supply lines rerouted.New pups were born without anyone weighing their worth against a ledger.***Spring came soft that year.Elowen felt it first in the air—the shift from sharp winter cold to
For one wild heartbeat, Elowen thought she would have to get up again.To stand between her newborn and the world. To command through the haze and blood and exhaustion, to turn Lunaris power outward one more time.But before she could even lift her head, Daire was already moving.He turned on the guard with a snarl—not at him, but at the words.“Out,” he said. “Now. Seal this door. No one gets in here who isn’t Mae or Soryn or Kieran.”The guard swallowed, nodded, and bolted.Daire looked back to Elowen.She saw the war in his eyes for a second—pack outside, mate, and child here. The pull in both directions that had torn Alphas apart since packs first howled.She tightened her grip weakly on his wrist.“Go,” she whispered. “They need teeth. We’re… we’re okay. Mae will gut anyone who looks at us wrong.”Mae snorted. “Understatement.”Daire’s hand cupped her jaw for the briefest instant—rough thumb, brushing a tear track.“I’ll come back,” he said. It wasn’t a promise made lightly anymo
They got her off the moonstone by force of will and coordinated muscle.Soryn walked ahead, power shimmering in a low, dense shield that bent the crowd aside without flinging anyone. Kieran and Rae cleared a physical path with bared teeth and knives, snapping at anyone slow to move.Daire half‑carried, half‑supported Elowen down from the dais and across the bowl, his arm locked around her waist, her weight leaning into him as another contraction dragged her forward with a grunt.“Almost there,” he muttered. “Just get inside. Just—”She squeezed his forearm so hard he winced.“Stop saying ‘almost,’” she hissed between breaths. “You’ve been saying ‘almost’ for three chapters.”He huffed out something like a laugh, frayed at the edges.“Fine,” he said. “We’re… in motion. How’s that?”Another wave rolled through her, this one with that deep, unstoppable *pressure* that made her body want to bear down, to open.She bit it back with a low sound.“Seal’s not going to wait much longer,” Mae s
For a long moment after Elowen’s whisper, the clearing held its breath.Moonstone light haloed her; Calista stood locked in place, stripped, empty‑handed. The shattered relic and gutted Cradle sparkled like broken teeth at their feet.Then, the rest of the world rushed back in.Voices.Engines ticking as they cooled.The thin, brittle sound of someone sobbing—one of the donors, finally realizing the ledgers couldn’t save him.Mae’s shout cut through it all.“Elowen.”The healer’s tone—sharp, urgent—snapped Elowen’s attention back to her own body.Another contraction ripped through her.This one didn’t just band her abdomen; it gripped low and deep, a rolling pressure that made her legs tremble and her breath hitch.She sucked in air, hand flying instinctively to her belly.The baby answered with a resounding shove downward.Mae was already moving, shoving through a knot of Lunaris and Nightmoor wolves to reach the edge of the dais.“Seal’s done negotiating,” she snapped, palm pressing
Silence held for half a breath after the relic shattered.Then, everything moved at once.Calista’s eyes went wild, whites showing all around the irises as she stared at the glittering fragments on the moonstone.“No,” she breathed. “No, no, no—”Her fingers spasmed.She dropped the useless hilt, metal clanging dully as it bounced on stone.Her gaze snapped to Elowen, framed in moonstone light, silver aura steady despite the strain, belly rounded, hand half‑raised.The picture they made—Omega, pregnant, glowing with *real* resonance—was the exact opposite of everything Calista had planned to project.“You,” she hissed.The word came out more like a snarl than a word.Elowen saw it—the instant where humiliation flipped to pure, feral spite.Calista’s hand darted down to the stone, fingers closing around one of the larger relic shards. The edges must have cut; blood bloomed along her palm, but she didn’t seem to feel it.She moved.Not for the first time, Elowen understood that Calista
The old moonstone dais had never looked less like a holy place.They crested the ridge at dusk, the sky bruised purple and red. The clearing below lay in a natural bowl, ringed with jagged stones and scrub pine. At its center, the dais sat: a wide circle of pale, veined stone half-sunk into the earth, its surface etched with ancient lines.Tonight, it was ringed with vehicles.Tribunal transports and shield rigs hummed around it like parasites clinging to a heart. Portable floodlights had been set up at the cardinal points, bathing the dais in stark, clinical white.On the far edge, Calista stood where an officiant might have once stood, the moonstone at her back. A portable Meridian Cradle unit squatted beside her on a metal stand—white enamel, silver channels, a crown of needle-fine conduits arching over an empty space.In her hand, the relic blade gleamed.Crowe flanked her, suit jacket gone, tie loosened, hair mussed in a way no stylist would have allowed. He still held himself wi







