The Hallow Crown

The wind howled like a restless spirit as I stepped through the gates of Veyra, my cloak draped from my broad shoulders like a shadow given form, its long, tattered hem whispering across the earth with every step she took. Woven from dark, heavy fabric but light enough to catch the breeze, it billowed behind me in wild, dramatic arcs, mimicking the motion of wings or smoke caught in a storm. The wind tugged at it fiercely, lifting it away from my tall, slender, and muscular lupine body as if trying to carry it into the night. It flared wide as I stood atop the ridge, looking over Veyra.  Silhouetted against the moon, a spectral banner that marked my passage and hinted at the primal force beneath the folds. The hood, thrown back, danced with the gusts, revealing my sharp profile and glinting eyes, both human and not. The city lay cradled between stone cliffs and frozen pines, cloaked in mist and moonlight a neutral ground carved from old treaties and older blood.

Even here, I could feel the tension in the air. Wolf-shifters moved through the streets in wary silence. Some bore the white tattoos of the Highland Clans, others the storm-gray brands of the South. They nodded as I passed, respectful, but wary. I was Frostfang, northern royalty and a healer in a world that only valued warriors.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin.

Something is wrong, Nemphis whispered.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t afford to listen to instincts, not here, not now.  I looked up and admired the Hall.

The summit was being held in the Hall of Accord. The Hall of Accord stood like a crown upon the brow of the city, a towering bastion of stone and ancient craftsmanship. Its sheer size dwarfed the surrounding buildings, each of its walls forged from colossal slabs of granite veined with silver and obsidian, shimmering faintly in the sun. Spires pierced the sky like the spears of titans, while vast banners emblazoned with the sigils of long-forgotten kings and enduring alliances fluttered high above the battlements.  Massive archways, wide enough for a war host to pass through, marked the hall’s entrances, their keystones carved with runes older than the city itself. Inside, the air was cool and solemn. Pillars the width of oaks supported vaulted ceilings painted with the histories of nations, and the floor beneath echoed with every footfall like distant thunder. The hall was more than stone and mortar it was memory, oath, and power made manifest. It had not hosted all five great clans in over two generations. Not since the Lunari Clan the once-ruling bloodline had been cast into exile.

Standing in the Hall of Accord, I could feel the weight of centuries pressing down on me, as though the very stones beneath my feet were alive with the echoes of ancient oaths. The air was thick with the scent of old leather, parchment, and a faint trace of incense an ever-present reminder of the countless treaties, alliances, and secrets sealed within these walls. The sheer scale of the Hall was humbling, its vaulted ceilings soaring above me like the sky itself, leaving me small and insignificant in comparison to its grandeur.  A chill brushed against my skin, though it wasn’t from the cold it was the subtle, almost imperceptible presence of history. Here, every corner seemed to whisper the names of those who had stood before me, their voices woven into the stone, their decisions still reverberating through the ages. The weight of their expectations, their dreams, and their betrayals hung in the air, a constant reminder of the power that had been forged within these walls.  But there was something else a sense of awe, a deep reverence. The Hall was not just a monument to power; it was a place of potential, of possibility.

And my wolf felt it too, but she continued to pace in my mind as she admired it.  

Despite its intimidating grandeur, it was a space where agreements had been made, where destinies had been shaped, where a single voice could shift the course of history. In that moment, I felt a flicker of something: responsibility, perhaps, or even the stirring of ambition. The Hall of Accord was a place where futures were decided, and standing within it, I could feel that my own future was somehow tethered to its vast, enduring legacy.  It was a place where the weight of the past met the promise of what was to come an intersection of power, history, and fate.

And yet… word traveled fast. Whispers said the last heir of Lunari was coming.

Aeryn Valecrow.

I had never seen him, but I knew the stories. Raised in the Shadow wilds. A warrior without mercy. A ghost made of smoke and ash.

But I didn’t believe in ghosts. Danger was another story, and I believed in danger.

"Lady Kaela." A voice called to my right a soft, male voice clipped.

It was Erydan, my father's second-in-command. His eyes scanned the crowd. “We were not told the Lunari would attend.”

“They weren’t invited,” I replied, adjusting the silver cuff at my wrist. My fingers itched beneath the leather. Nemphis was restless again, continuing to pace.

“But he’ll come,” I added, more to myself than to Erydan. “He has to come claim his father’s ashes.”  My father was finally going to allow his clan to claim them.

Inside, the Hall of Accord was colder than the city. The great hearths burned low, and the council table, carved from moonstone and ironwood, sat ringed with shifters from every clan but one. The Lunari chair stood empty, draped in black.

I looked around, I seen my father sitting at the head of the table, our king, a towering figure in both stature and presence, exuded an aura of cold, unyielding ambition. His eyes, sharp and calculating, gleamed with an insatiable hunger for power an appetite that could never be sated, no matter how many kingdoms he claimed or how many crowns he added to his collection. His face was lined with the marks of age and experience, but there was no softness in his expression, no trace of kindness or warmth. The people who looked upon him saw not a father, but a ruler, a king forged from iron will and relentless desire for control.

I took my seat next to my father with her head held high even though I felt small beneath my father’s eyes. I could feel the gazes, the weight of politics, the eyes of all the clan leaders were on her, of being the daughter of the King Myras Frostfang, the woman who had brokered peace more times than war had allowed.  I met the eyes of the Alpha of High land clan Alpha Erydan; he was the leader of one of the mountain wolves.  My father’s second in command stood on the opposite side of my father. My gaze continued around the table meeting each of the clan leaders’ gazes. My father sat and began bringing everything in order, then the air shifted, and my wolf pressed forward.  The mountain wolves grumbled. The desert-born growled. And then the air shifted.  It was subtle at first a hush of a breath, the prickling of fur beneath the skin. My senses sharpened as my wolf reared.  The door to the hall opened, a man entered the hall. 

He moved like shadow even though he was over 7 feet tall, he was wrapped in a dark cloak that was the color of shadows and it flowed behind him like he commanded the wind. His hair was raven-black, falling just past his sharp jawline, then his eyes like frozen silver swept over the room like he owned it yet did not want to be here, and for one terrible moment, he locked with hers. My breath caught, then my heart stuttered once, then resumed in a faster rhythm. I could smell him. Ash. Pine. The unmistakable scent of moon-kissed fur and pure lust.  I don’t believe I have smelled anything more exotic.   

Lunari.

He sat without bowing. Without speaking. As though he had always belonged at that table.

My skin burned, then my wrist started to throb beneath her cuff.  I couldn’t take my eyes away from him.  My wrist felt like they were on fire. I glanced down and froze. A faint glow pulsed like its own heart beat a shape, curved mark that was glowing beneath the sleeve of my leathers, a mark only seen that I have only seen in books.

The Lunar Bond.

She looked up. Across the table, Aeryn Valecrow met her gaze again.  In that moment she felt terrified and unafraid at the same moment. Nemphis did not like it but craved it all at once.  She pushed forward even more.