The great hall of the Black Mane Howlers echoed with voices as dawn broke, but the air was no less tense than the night before. Wolves came again, this time not for ritual, but to watch Selene Duskfang assume the mantle of Luna.
And Selene swept into the hallway, immediately looking like a queen in her red dress, her smile slicing like a blade. She adored every curtsy, every murmured "Luna Selene."
Keona was lurking in the shadows of the outer corridor, with Nyra next to her. Her heart was heavy, but she pushed herself to remain. She would not let Selene think her broken spirit kept her away.
Nyra's teeth were bared. "Look at her. Preening like a peacock. She's not Luna—she's a snake dressed in silk."
"Nyra…" Keona whispered, but she couldn't deny it. Selene looked radiant, but the radiance of a flame that devoured everything in reach.
Kalethorn stood on the platform beside Selene, his expression hard as stone. His jaw was clenched, his eyes illegible, but his hand rested on Selene's arm for all to see.
Selene's voice was melody across the hall. "People of the Black Mane Howlers, your Alpha has chosen me to stand by his side. Together, we will lead you to glory. No frailty, no weakness, no shame will taint this throne."
Her gaze swept deliberately to the shadows where Keona stood. The smirk that followed was a dagger of triumph.
Nyra hissed, "I'll tear out her tongue."
Keona touched her arm. "Don't. That's what she wants."
Still, her chest burned. Each word Selene spoke was meant to diminish her, to remind the pack that the bond meant nothing if Kalethorn could cast it aside so easily.
Kalethorn finally spoke, his voice commanding. "Our future must be secure. Selene Duskfang is a wolf of strength and heritage. She will give this throne heirs worthy of the Black Mane line."
The crowd broke into cheers, though not all voices joined. Many looked uncertain, even uneasy. Keona saw it in their eyes—doubt.
Nyra's jaw tightened. "They cheer now, but not for long. They'll see her for what she is."
A warrior quickly walked up to Kalethorn, and got on one knee. "Alpha, it's Dravenmoor he's here, we tried to stop him from coming in but—"
Before he was done speaking, a sharp laugh rang from the hall's edge.
Darius stepped into the chamber, flanked by two of his warriors. Gasps rippled through the hall—an Ironcrest Alpha striding uninvited into Black Mane territory.
Kalethorn's voice thundered. "Darius. You risk death by crossing my walls unbidden."
Darius's smile was all sharp teeth. "If you wished me dead, Fenrow, you would not have hesitated already." His eyes slid to Keona, lingering a fraction too long.
Selene bristled, stepping forward. "You insult the sanctity of this hall—"
"I insult nothing," Darius interrupted smoothly. "I came only to witness this farce. The moon chooses mates, yet you, Kalethorn, spit upon it."
The hall went deathly still.
Kalethorn's nostrils flared. "Mind your tongue, Dravenmoor."
Darius's gaze hardened. "You rejected a gift most would kill to have. A Silvertail bond is not given lightly."
Whispers surged. Keona froze. "Silvertail." That word again. Her breath caught as all eyes turned toward her.
Selene sneered. "Lies. She is nothing. A deviant who cannot even shift. He rejected her because she shames us all."
Nyra spat at Selene's feet. "You wouldn't recognize worth if it bit your pampered hide."
Chaos stirred in the hall. Elders muttered, warriors shifted uneasily. The name "Silvertail" carried weight, old as legend.
Keona's head spun. Why does that word follow me? Why does it feel like a memory I've forgotten?
Kalethorn raised a hand, silencing the hall. His eyes burned into Darius. "This is my pack, my throne, and my choice. Leave, before I tear you apart."
Darius tilted his head, calm as still water. "Remember this, Black Mane heir: choices have consequences. And when you regret, I will be there."
He turned, his cloak sweeping behind him, and walked out as brazenly as he had come. His warriors tailed him, as the hall behind them surged with murmurs and gossip.
The elders, seated in their silver-engraved chairs, leaned together in low murmurs, and their eyes slid again and again toward Keona.
Selene did not allow the whispers to smother her. She stepped forward, her voice sharp as a knife but dripping with poison.
"Do you hear them, Black Mane? The Ironcrest Alpha dares to soil our sacred hall with his lies. He speaks of Silvertails, of legends that belong to dust. Do not be swayed. He seeks only to fracture us, to turn you against your true Alpha heir." "The Ironcrest Pride conspires to undermine us. They use this… this frail girl as their pawn."
The pack growled agreement, though uncertainty still lingered. Kalethorn's gaze flickered to Keona briefly, but it hardened, and he turned away.
Her eyes swept the hall, radiant with false conviction. "I stand by Kalethorn Fenrow. I will be his Luna. Together we will ensure the Black Mane Howlers are never weakened by the whispers of dead bloodlines and frail pretenders."
She tilted her head, smiling directly at Keona. "And those who cannot shift, who cannot even claim their wolf, have no place beside the Blood Moon throne."
The words stung, more brutal than the gossip of the gathering. Keona's fists grabbed at her sides, though her eyes never left the floor.
Elder Morric, a gaunt wolf with hair like ash, stood slowly. His voice was gravelly. "Selene speaks boldly, but boldness does not change fate. The bond is real. We all saw it the moment their eyes met. To reject the moon's will invites disaster."
Murmurs rippled. A few elders nodded.
Selene's smile faltered. "The moon would never bind an Alpha to weakness."
"Would you challenge the moon's choice, Selene?" Elder Morric's eyes glinted.
Before Selene could snap back, Kalethorn's voice rolled like thunder. "Enough."
The hall silenced instantly.
Kalethorn stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the elders and then the crowd. His words were calculated, but the tension beneath them was apparent.
"Yes, the bond still exists. I will not deny it. But the Luna of the Black Mane Howlers cannot be one who falters beneath the moon, who cannot lead our warriors by tooth and claw. Our enemies circle us. If I chose her, they would smell weakness and descend upon us."
His gaze moved to Keona again—brief, fleeting, pained. He forced it away.
"I chose Selene for the strength of our future. For the throne. For survival."
The hall erupted in agreement from Selene's supporters, their cheers loud and eager. But others remained silent, their doubt unspoken but heavy in the air.
Selene seized his arm, raising her chin proudly. "You see? Our Alpha heir has spoken. His decision is final."
Elder Elandra Greymane, the seer, rose last. Her voice was steady, but every word held significance.
"Be warned, Kalethorn Fenrow. The bond is not so easily cast aside. The moon does not err in her weaving. And this girl—" Her veiled eyes turned toward Keona, softer than the others had been. "—carries a shadow brighter than any of you know. I have seen it."
The hall hushed.
Selene bristled. "Prophecies and riddles. This is politics, not visions."
Elandra's voice sharpened. "It is both. And if you think to twist fate to your whim, Selene Duskfang, the moon may twist back harder than you imagine."
Selene's smile cracked, but only for an instant. She pressed closer to Kalethorn, clinging like ivy. "Do not heed riddles, my love. Fate belongs to those strong enough to seize it."
Kalethorn's jaw tightened. His eyes swept the hall again, lingering a fraction too long on Keona before he spoke.
"This council is ended. Selene stands as Luna. Doubt her, and you doubt me."
The command carried his Alpha authority, quelling the murmurs, even if unease still stirred beneath.
As wolves began to disperse, Selene leaned close, her lips brushing Kalethorn's ear but loud enough for those nearby to hear.
"See how they waver? Do you see how even now they look to her? I will not have my reign shadowed by that girl. If she remains, she will destroy everything."
Kalethorn's reply was low, meant for her alone. "I made my choice. Do not press me further."
But Selene's eyes gleamed with venom as she glanced back toward Keona. "She is a thorn. And I do not leave thorns unplucked."
From the shadows, Keona felt the weight of Selene's promise like a knife pressed to her throat. She realized Selene would not rest until she was broken beyond repair.
Keona couldn't breathe. She fled the hall, Nyra chasing after her.
They reached the courtyard, where the night's cool air cut her lungs. Keona collapsed against the stone fountain.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why would he call me Silvertail? What does it mean?"
Nyra knelt beside her, eyes fierce. "It means you are not what they think. I don't know how or why, but I swear it, Keona—you are not weak."
Keona pressed her hands to her face, trembling. "But I can't shift. I can't fight. What am I supposed to do?"
Nyra gripped her shoulders. "You'll learn. We'll make you strong. With or without him."
But Keona's thoughts weren't on Kalethorn anymore. They were on the silver glow she had felt the night before, the whisper calling her from within.
Silvertail.
And then—sudden rustling. The courtyard shadows squirmed, and everything silenced. From the twilight materialized creatures, their eyes glowing sickly green, their forms twisted—wolves, but not wolves, dripping saliva and hunger.
Keona gasped, slipping back.
Nyra frowned. "Moon above…Dreadwolves."
Then the nearest lunged, jaws gaping.