Chapter 5: Fire Beneath the Snow

The storm broke just after midnight.

Winds howled across the craggy peaks of the northern mountains, battering the windows of the fortress like a beast begging to be let in. Snow whipped through the air like knives, and guards shifted uneasily in their heavy coats, huddling near torches that flickered against the cold.

But inside the great hall, fire blazed high in the hearths, and tension burned even hotter.

Elira stood beside Lucien on the raised dais, her posture straight, expression carefully calm. Her newly healed body was still sore from yesterday’s training, and the smooth metal of the signet ring on her finger felt impossibly heavy. But she refused to show weakness.

Not tonight.

Tonight, ambassadors from the Stormfang Pack—the very pack that once claimed her and cast her aside—had come to speak with the Lycan King.

They did not know she would be here.

They did not yet know she wore the queen’s signet.

They were about to find out.

The great doors boomed open. Two men entered—Alpha Caelus of the Stormfangs, and beside him, the newly named heir… Kael.

Elira’s breath caught in her chest at the sight of him.

He hadn’t changed much. Still tall. Still golden-haired, with a cruel, easy arrogance in the way he walked. But now she saw things differently—she saw the hollow behind his eyes, the way his mouth curled just a little too smugly. A boy dressed as a man, cloaked in authority he hadn’t earned.

Kael’s eyes skimmed over the room as they approached the dais—until they landed on her.

He stopped.

Shock flared in his expression, quickly buried beneath a sneer.

“Elira,” he said, voice like a blade dulled at the tip. “Still playing queen, I see?”

Lucien stepped forward. “Watch your tongue.”

The storm outside was nothing compared to the quiet fury in his voice.

Kael’s father, Alpha Caelus, cleared his throat. “We did not come for petty insults, Your Majesty. The Stormfangs seek peace, and perhaps… a new alliance.”

Lucien’s voice was a winter wind. “Interesting. The last time we spoke, you swore no daughter of the moon would ever sit beside me.”

“That was before our borders began to suffer… mysterious incursions,” Caelus said smoothly. “We believe we were misinformed. Surely we can look past old wounds and consider new opportunities.”

Lucien said nothing.

Elira stepped forward.

The entire hall seemed to still.

“Let me guess,” she said quietly. “You lost the strength you once had, so now you seek protection from the very king you mocked?”

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “No one gave you permission to speak, omega.”

Lucien’s growl rumbled through the room. “She is more than an omega. She stands in the light of my court. She wears the queen’s ring.”

Gasps rippled through the room.

Elira met Kael’s gaze. “You had a chance to stand beside me, Kael. But you chose fear. You chose cruelty. You told me I was worthless.”

“You were,” he spat.

“Then look at me now,” she said, lifting her chin. “And tremble.”

Kael surged forward, but Lucien moved faster. In an instant, he was between them, hand at Kael’s throat, lifting him clear off the ground.

“Touch her again,” the king said, voice low and terrifying, “and I will paint the walls with your blood.”

Kael choked, claws digging into Lucien’s arm, but the king dropped him unceremoniously.

The Alpha heir collapsed, gasping.

Caelus held up his hands. “This is not diplomacy.”

Lucien stared him down. “Then take your pet heir and leave my court. Return only when you’re ready to speak like men, not cowards.”

The Stormfangs withdrew in silence, dragging Kael out with them.

Elira stood frozen.

Then the court erupted in murmurs—some shocked, some admiring.

Lucien turned to her, quieting the crowd with a glance.

“You didn’t falter,” he said.

“I wanted to,” she admitted.

“But you didn’t.”

Elira let out a slow breath. “I think I’m starting to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“The difference between surviving… and living.”

Lucien looked at her, something warm flickering beneath his cool silver gaze. “Then perhaps it’s time you chose what kind of life you want.”

---

The next morning, Elira found herself standing on a balcony that overlooked the Lycan capital.

Below her, the city was stirring—vendors calling to one another, children racing through the square, nobles passing on horseback. It was alive in a way her old pack never had been. Even the cold mountain air smelled of freedom.

Mara stepped beside her, carrying a warm coat. “They’re talking about you in the lower halls.”

“Oh?”

“Some say you’re the King’s future queen. Others say you’re a dangerous rival. A few say you’re nothing but a pretty toy.”

Elira smiled faintly. “And what do you say?”

Mara draped the coat over her shoulders. “I say they should be afraid. Because you're changing—and they can't predict what you’ll become.”

Elira glanced back out at the horizon.

She didn’t know what she would become either.

But for once, the idea excited her.

---

That evening, Lucien summoned her to the war room again.

But this time, the table was cleared of maps and battle plans. In their place sat a small chest, made of black wood inlaid with silver filigree.

“What’s this?” she asked.

Lucien opened it to reveal an amulet. A pale blue stone set in iron, pulsing faintly with light.

“This,” he said, “was my mother’s heartstone. A relic of the old queens.”

Elira touched it gently. The energy inside hummed like wind before a storm.

“She used it to calm those on the edge of madness. To see truth where lies were woven. To protect herself when words became weapons.”

Lucien looked at her with quiet intensity.

“I’m giving it to you.”

Elira blinked. “But why now?”

“Because soon, you’ll be tested—not just by strength or court politics. But by something darker. The council meets in three days. I plan to formally introduce you as consort. You’ll face questions, challenges, resentment. This stone will help… but your voice will matter most.”

Elira swallowed. “You’re sure I’m ready?”

“No,” Lucien said softly. “But I know you will be.”

Elira closed her fingers around the amulet. “Then I’ll prove it.”

Lucien stepped closer, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered a moment too long.

“You already have,” he murmured.

And for a breathless moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

The king and the girl no one wanted.

---

That night, she dreamed of fire.

But it wasn’t consuming her anymore.

It was rising with her.

---