The knock had long since faded, replaced by the quiet shuffle of the servant who had delivered the message. Selene and Orion lingered in the warm light of their chamber, Camille cooing softly in her crib, a small tether of life and normalcy in the middle of the shifting palace. The message had been simple, direct: the council awaited them. No ceremony, just the gravity of expectation. Selene rose first, brushing a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. Her eyes, icy-blue and sharper than they had been even before the awakening, traced the polished floors as she moved toward the door. Orion followed, broad-shouldered and calm, though she could feel the subtle tension in his posture. “You ready?” he asked, his voice low, careful. Selene paused for a breath, steadying herself. The pulse of her Omega energy hummed faintly around her, soft but unmistakable, marking her as someone the world now had to acknowledge. “I have to be,” she said. A simple statement, but weighty enough to ech
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