The great hall of Ravenclaw was colder than usual that morning. Every torch along the stone walls flickered weakly, their flames trembling as if sensing the tension that filled the room. The council had been summoned. Word had spread overnight that Evelyn would face her first formal trial as acting Alpha.
When she entered, all eyes turned.
She wore black — not mourning, but power. Her cloak swept across the floor, and the silver of her Luna insignia glimmered faintly against her chest. Every step echoed, deliberate and calm, though her pulse throbbed beneath her skin.
The elders sat at the long council table, their faces carved with suspicion. At the far end, George stood like a silent guardian, his presence steady beside her. Damien's seat remained empty, draped in the crimson banner of the Alpha, a cruel reminder of his absence.
