Keona sat awake long after Nyra had fallen asleep, the fire in the hearth reduced to faint, glowing coals. The silence pressed against her chest, but her thoughts were louder than any wolf's howl.
The vision.
The silver wolves.
The throne bathed in blood.
"What am I to do?" she whispered.
She touched her temples, her fingers trembling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again. She heard the pack whispering—cursed, weak, rejected—their voices following her into the dark.
But Elandra's words had burned through the shame like fire burning through paper.
"Your wolf is bound, not broken. Waiting for its trigger."
Bound. Waiting. Not gone. Not useless.
For the first time in her life, Keona whispered into the stillness, "I am not nothing."
The words hung heavy, almost foreign.
Nyra stirred in her sleep, mumbling something unintelligible before rolling over. Keona looked at her dearest friend and allowed a small, fragile smile. Nyra believed in her without condition. Maybe it was time she started believing too.
A knock broke the silence. Gentle, but firm. Keona tensed. When she opened the door, she found Elandra again, her pale eyes soft but urgent.
"Child," the elder said, "tomorrow will be dangerous."
Keona swallowed. "Because of Selene?"
"Because of Kalethorn," Elandra corrected, her voice edged with worry. "She is tightening her claws around him. The council will gather, and he will be pressed to declare her his Luna, in other words—to swear his loyalty to her as his Luna. Once he does, you will be… nothing more than a thorn she is free to pluck."
Keona's hands clenched at her sides. "So, what should I do? Do you think I should I run?"
Elandra shook her head. "No. Running is death. Standing is survival." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You must endure the storm until your wolf awakens. Only then will your place be undeniable."
Keona's heart pounded. "But how long? How do I trigger it?"
Elandra's eyes flickered, as if the truth carried too much weight. "That I cannot see clearly, though I see chains. However, your blood sings louder each time you refuse to bow."
The words sank deep. Refuse to bow. Not weak. Not nothing.
Keona nodded slowly. For the first time, she felt the ember of resolve burn steady in her chest. "Then I'll stand."
Elandra squeezed her hands. "Good. Remember this, Keona: Selene thrives on your silence as well as your weakness. Break it, and she fears you."
When Elandra left, Keona shut the door, pressing her forehead to the wood. She exhaled, long and steady. Tomorrow, she would not cower. Tomorrow, she would meet Selene's venom with steel.
—————
Morning light spilled through the high windows of the council chamber. Wolves filled the stone hall—elders robed in gray, pack warriors lining the walls, the air thick with unease. On the platform stood Kalethorn, his shoulders squared, jaw rigid, the weight of the throne pressing invisible chains upon him.
Selene entered like a queen already crowned, her blue gown trailing like spilled water, her smile a weapon honed to perfection. She took her place beside Kalethorn without waiting for invitation, her hand brushing his arm as though she already possessed it.
Keona slipped in quietly, Nyra at her side, though silence did not protect her from the stares. Murmurs hissed like snakes through the chamber.
"That's her—the cursed one."
"Such a silly thing."
"Didn't she collapse at the festival?"
"Why is she even here?"
Nyra bared her teeth at them, her hand steady at Keona's back. "You will all choke on your words soon enough."
At the far end of the hall, Elder Morric rose, his voice deep and commanding. "This council convenes under the Blood Moon's shadow. An attack has scarred our lands. Dreadwolves walk again. And the pack trembles with whispers of visions." His gaze slid to Keona, lingering. "The matter of loyalty must be made clear. Our Alpha must silence division."
Selene's lips curved. She stepped forward, her voice silken. "The pack needs certainty. Kalethorn must declare his Luna before us all. There is no room for… cursed distractions."
A ripple of laughter, cruel and low, spread through her allies.
Keona's nails bit into her palms, but she held her ground.
Kalethorn said nothing, his silence stretching, his eyes darting briefly—too briefly—toward Keona.
Elandra rose then, her thin voice carrying surprising strength. "The girl's vision cannot be dismissed. The Silvertails were guardians once. Their return is not curse, but an omen."
Gasps echoed. One elder scoffed. "Superstition! Dangerous lies. If she carries their blood, then she carries their doom."
Selene seized the moment, she turned to Kalethorn. "You see? Even your own council doubts her. And doubt weakens the pack. Kalethorn, you must choose—your people, or a cursed girl's fantasies."
All eyes turned to the Alpha. His chest rose and fell, his jaw taut, his hands clenched at his sides.
Keona's heart hammered. She should feel broken, humiliated, silenced. But instead, Elandra's words echoed within her: Selene thrives on your silence and weakness. Break it.
Before Kalethorn could speak, Keona stepped forward.
The chamber gasped.
Her voice trembled at first, then sharpened. "You call me cursed. You whisper it in corners. But none of you can deny what you saw the night of the dreadwolves. Did Selene strike them down? Did the council? No. Something in me did. And if that frightens you, perhaps it should."
Murmurs exploded, half-shocked, half-awed.
Selene's eyes widened, fury flashing, but Keona pressed on, steel burning in her voice. "You want to erase me? Fine. But do not mistake your fear for proof. I will not bow. Not to you. Not to anyone."
The hall was silent. For the first time, Selene's smile disappeared.
Selene turned sharply to Kalethorn, her voice sharp as a lash. "You heard her, she said she wouldn't bow to you or anyone. The little cretin speaks with such disrespect Kalethorn, do not allow this to go unchecked."
When Kalethorn said nothing Selene continued. "Prove it Alpha. Before this council, before your pack—swear your loyalty to me, declare me your Luna now."
Kalethorn's eyes locked on Keona's, conflict storming within them.
The hall held it's breath, waiting for his answer.