KAEL'S POV
I stood at Ayla's side, the tremor in the valley pulsing through the floor. Outside the war hall, wolves stirred like embers igniting in the wind. Inside, the Seer emissaries shifted—some bowed heads weighed with resignation, others trembled on the cusp of revolt.
One priestess rose.
"Your power… it is of old blood, yes. But our Tradition demands judgment."
She stepped forward, eyes brimming with defiance and fear.
Ayla's eyes glowed brighter. "Then judge me fairly. With truth."
The priestess reached into a chest at her feet and pulled out a silver chalice, handing it to Ayla.
"What…?"
The chalice's surface pulsed with runes—a binding vessel. She poured blood into it. Her own. Crimson and glowing, alive.
The air thickened. Not one wolf in the room moved. Not even Kael.
She lifted it until the rune-etched goblet caught moonlight pouring through shattered wall panels.
The liquid glowed.
