The Ascension Ceremony

The night was thick with the scent of burning sage and cedar, the smoke curling into the air, weaving between the bodies gathered beneath the towering shadows of the Ashen Pack’s sacred clearing.

They had waited for this moment—for the rise of new leadership, for the solidification of a reign built in war, sacrifice, and survival.

For Darius to claim his place as Alpha once more.

And for Selene to stand beside him—not as his subordinate, but as his Luna, his equal.

The ceremony was not a gentle affair.

The Ashen Pack thrived on strength, on endurance, on proving dominance through action—not just words.

And so, the Blood Oath was required.

Selene stood before Darius at the center of the gathering, her stance unwavering, her gaze locked onto his.

They were dressed in ceremonial robes—dark silver for him, deep charcoal black for her, embroidered with symbols of the ancient wolves who had ruled before them.

Kael and Zaria stood as witnesses, each holding blades carved from obsidian, meant for one purpose.

To seal the rule in blood.

Kael stepped forward first, his voice carrying through the night. “Strength is earned. Leadership is proven. Tonight, you do not take titles. You claim them.”

Selene exhaled slowly, reaching for the dagger as Darius did the same.

Their movements were synchronized—a deep gash across their palms, blood pooling before they pressed their hands together, sealing their bond through pain and truth.

The crowd growled their approval, a guttural sound of acknowledgment, of acceptance, of witnessing two wolves proving that leadership was not given—it was forged.

Leadership required more than blood.

It required survival.

And so, the Trial of Shadows commenced.

Darius and Selene were blindfolded, taken to the outskirts of the Ashen lands, left with nothing but their instincts and the silent presence of hidden warriors prepared to test them.

They had until dawn to find their way back, but the path was riddled with traps—

Wolves waiting in silence, ready to challenge them, forcing them into combat to prove dominance.

Tests of endurance, requiring them to move without sight, relying only on senses honed through hardship.

A final obstacle, meant to break even the strongest—crossing the Black River’s frozen current, where the cold stripped away strength, where only true rulers endured.

Selene fought beside Darius—not trailing behind, not waiting for rescue.

She held her ground, ripped through attackers, defied the cold, sharpened her focus.

And when the first light of dawn broke through the trees, they arrived together, victorious.

The Ashen Pack gathered once more, the air thick with anticipation, with unspoken acknowledgment that they had earned their place.

Zaria stepped forward, lifting a chalice filled with dark wine—a symbol of unity, of rule, of shared fate.

Darius took the first sip, then handed it to Selene.

She drank, the bitter liquid grounding her, solidifying the truth of what had just taken place.

They were Alpha and Luna.

Rulers of the broken.

Leaders of the forsaken.

And as the pack howled beneath the rising dawn, Selene met Darius’s gaze, knowing that everything had changed.

They had won.