The dawn that followed Aria’s coronation should have been filled with peace. Instead, a storm gathered quietly in the hall of Elders, their whispers sharp and heavy with doubt. The scent of incense and tension mingled in the air.Kaelen stood at the center of the room, hands clenched at his sides, eyes burning with restrained fury. His wolf prowled beneath his skin, restless, sensing the hostility that coiled through the ancient chamber.Elder Bran, the oldest among them, rose with deliberate weight. His long gray hair hung down his shoulders, and his voice carried the chill of winter. “Alpha Kaelen, while the Goddess has marked your Luna… tradition demands proof. The Crescent Fang has not seen a Luna rise through chaos and witchcraft in centuries.”Kaelen’s growl rumbled through the hall. “You dare question the Goddess’s will?”Another Elder, Serana, folded her arms, her gaze cold. “No one questions the Goddess. But we question her vessel. The Blessed Luna bears light unlike any befo
Last Updated : 2025-11-13 Read more