011

The silence left behind by the Moon Goddess lingered like a storm that hadn’t fully passed.

No one moved at first.

The air still felt charged, heavy with something none of them could name, and for a moment, even the elders seemed unsure of what came next.

Grand Alpha Sylas was the first to straighten. Slowly, he rose to his full height, his expression tight, his jaw clenched as his eyes swept across the hall as though trying to confirm that what had just happened was real.

Lady Isla and Mother Elvya followed, though the reverence in their movements lingered longer, their heads still slightly bowed before they finally returned to their seats.

No one spoke.

Then Sylas lifted his hand and gestured sharply toward Elowen. “Release her.”

The guards moved immediately, stepping forward to undo the restraints. The leather loosened around her wrists and ankles, and the moment she was free, Elowen didn’t hesitate. She pushed herself off the board, her legs unsteady beneath her as she stumbled forward.

“Lysara!”

Her voice cracked as she dropped beside her friend, who was just beginning to stir on the floor. Lysara groaned softly, her fingers twitching as she pushed herself up, confusion written all over her face.

“Elowen?” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “What… what happened?”

Elowen didn’t answer right away. She pulled her into a tight embrace instead, her body still trembling. “You’re okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anything. “You’re okay…”

Lysara held onto her, still dazed. “I don’t remember anything,” she said slowly. “I was just… there, and then…”

She stopped, her brows furrowing as she looked around the room, noticing the tension, the stares, the aftermath of something she clearly didn’t understand..“What’s going on?” she asked quietly.

Elowen shook her head, pulling back slightly but keeping a hand on her arm as if afraid she might disappear again. “I’ll explain later,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Behind them, Mother Elvya spoke, her tone firm despite the lingering weight in the room. “We must follow the old laws,” she said. “The traditions cannot be broken. It is the only way to ensure we do not invite greater consequences.”

Draven leaned forward in his chair, his expression dark, his patience clearly worn thin. “So that’s it?” he demanded. “One of us becomes Alpha Supreme and the rest just… die?”

The bluntness of it made the room tense again.

Ellion shook his head quickly, stepping forward. “What if none of us becomes Alpha Supreme?” he suggested, his voice urgent. “We don’t have to follow this path. We can rule together. There doesn’t have to be a single Alpha.”

Sorrian let out a sharp, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Rule together?” he echoed, his voice tinged with panic. “That’s your solution? I didn’t sign up to die for this.”

“None of us did,” Draven snapped, shooting him a look before turning his attention back to Sylas. “You kept this from us. All of you did.” His voice hardened. “Why aren’t you saying anything now?”

Sylas remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Draven pushed himself to his feet, frustration radiating off him. “I will not sit here and watch my brothers die because of some ancient deal,” he continued, his voice rising. “We deserve answers.”

Zevrian scoffed quietly from his seat. “Bold of you to assume you would even make it that far,” he said coolly.

Draven’s head snapped toward him. “You really think this is already yours?” he shot back. “You think being first makes you better?”

Ellion stepped between them slightly, his hands raised. “This isn’t a competition,” he insisted, his voice strained. “It shouldn’t be.”

“Elowen,” Lysara whispered suddenly, her grip tightening slightly.

Elowen had gone still.

Her hand slipped from Lysara’s arm as her body swayed slightly. Her breathing changed, shallow and uneven, and before Lysara could react properly, Elowen’s knees gave out beneath her.

“Elowen!” Lysara cried, trying to catch her, but she dropped to the floor instead.

Elowen’s head tilted back unnaturally, her eyes rolling before settling into an eerie glow, faint but unmistakable. The shift was immediate, and the room fell silent again as every gaze turned toward her.

When she spoke, her voice didn’t sound entirely like her own.

“Five shall rise as moons to the night,” she began, her tone distant, almost hollow. “Bound to one flame, chosen by right. Should love divide or pride deceive,” she continued, her voice steady, echoing faintly, “the bloodline shall not grieve — it shall burn.”

A chill swept through the room.

“Yet, if one heart dares bleed alone,” she finished, her voice softening slightly, “the light may crown a shattered throne.”

The glow faded from her eyes as suddenly as it had appeared.

Her body went limp.

“Elowen!” Lysara’s voice broke as she shook her gently, panic setting in immediately. “Wake up—please wake up!”

Servants rushed in at the commotion, moving quickly but carefully as they lifted Elowen from the floor.

Zevrian stood, his voice cutting through the panic with authority. “Take her to her room,” he ordered. “Make sure she is attended to immediately. Nothing is to happen to her.”

The servants nodded, moving swiftly as they carried her out.

Lysara didn’t hesitate to follow, her face pale, her steps hurried as she stayed close to Elowen’s side.

The doors closed behind them, leaving the brothers and elders in the heavy silence that followed.

Ellion was the first to speak. “She just recited the prophecy,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with disbelief. “Our family prophecy. How does she even know that?”

Draven let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “What, you think that was coincidence?” he said, glancing at Zevrian. “Or did you tell her that too?”

Zevrian’s gaze snapped to him, sharp and cold. “Shut up,” he said, his voice low. “Or I will make you.”

“Enough!” Grand Alpha Sylas’s voice thundered through the hall, silencing them all instantly.

Sorrian exhaled sharply, running his hands over his face before looking toward the elders again. “What does it mean?” he asked, his tone edged with unease. “That prophecy… does that mean we’re safe now? She said mercy, didn’t she?”

Mother Elvya shook her head slowly. “I will consult the ancestors,” she said. “There are details we must understand. The meaning of her words… and who that mercy is meant for.”

Sylas closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, his expression firm. “This meeting is over,” he said. “You are all dismissed.”

Kaelen didn’t wait for further instruction. He rose from his seat and walked out without a word, his expression unchanged, as though none of this had affected him at all.

Draven remained where he was for a moment longer, his jaw tight. “I still have questions,” he muttered.

“So do I,” Sorrian added quickly. “Like whether we’re all about to die.”

Ellion shook his head, forcing a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe we should try being optimistic,” he said. “Nothing has happened yet.”

Draven looked at him, then let out a quiet, almost mocking breath. “If anyone’s going to die first,” he said slowly, “we both know who it’ll be.”

Ellion froze. “What?”

Draven held his gaze for a second longer before leaning back slightly. “You, of course.”

Ellion’s eyes widened. “You’re an asshole,” he snapped as he stood. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out, his steps quick and uneven.

Draven watched him go, then shook his head slightly. “I’m not dying because of some human girl,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “That’s not happening.”

Sorrian huffed quietly, leaning back in his chair. “Same,” he muttered. “I haven’t fucked enough to die yet.”