Selene stood at the edge of the ruins, staring at the glowing sigil on her wrist. The mark had burned into her skin like molten silver, but it pulsed with life—warm, ancient, and sacred. It was proof. Proof of who she was. Of what she was becoming.
But symbols alone wouldn't be enough.
If she was going to stand against Damien and the pack that humiliated her, she needed more than blood and memory. She needed power—political, physical, and spiritual. She needed allies. She needed the Crest of Aetheryn—her father's heirloom, the Royal Alpha crest rumored to amplify a leader's aura and awaken the full strength of the bloodline.
And according to the Moon Spirit's whispers last night, it was still somewhere within the Moonfang Pack.
Probably in Damien's hands.
Selene clenched her jaw. "Then I'll take it back."
—
The following morning, the Pack Council convened in the great hall of Moonfang's estate.
News of Selene's return had already spread across the territory like wildfire. Whispers filled every corridor.
"Her eyes were glowing silver!"
"She walked right past the border guards like she owned the place."
"Alpha Damien looked... scared."
At the head of the hall, Damien sat in his throne-like seat, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, his expression unreadable.
Beside him sat Elira, pretending to file her nails. Across from them stood Beta Jace, silent but unusually thoughtful. Gamma Nightshade and the remaining elders were murmuring among themselves, clearly rattled.
Finally, Damien broke the silence.
"This nonsense about Selene being of royal blood—none of you believe that, do you?"
"She activated the mark," Elder Rowan said, his voice shaky. "That sigil has not been seen since the fall of House Aetheryn."
"She could've found a way to fake it," Damien insisted, though even he sounded unsure.
Jace cleared his throat. "I don't think it's fake. I felt her power. It wasn't just strong—it was ancient."
"And what would you suggest?" Damien snapped. "Bend the knee to someone we cast out like garbage? She's a threat, not a queen."
Rowan leaned forward. "She hasn't declared war, Damien. She wants her father's crest. Perhaps returning it would calm this storm."
Elira scoffed. "And give her more power? That's suicide."
"Denying her might be worse," Jace murmured. "If she really is of royal descent, she could call the allegiance of other packs who still honor the old blood."
Damien's eyes narrowed. He stood abruptly. "If she thinks I'll bow to a rejected mate, she's mistaken. She wants the crest? She can come and try to take it."
—
That evening, as shadows stretched across the mountains, Selene made her way toward the Moonfang vault.
The underground armory beneath the old Pack House held the most prized treasures of the territory: sacred scrolls, enchanted relics, and the stolen legacy of fallen packs—including hers.
She knew every inch of it. Her father once trained there, long before the betrayal. Long before his execution.
Two guards stood at the hidden entrance, embedded in the rock wall near the east tower.
Selene stepped from the trees like a ghost. Before either guard could speak, her aura exploded.
"Sleep."
Her voice carried weight, infused with Alpha command and the Royal mark. Their eyes glazed over, and both collapsed gently to the forest floor, snoring peacefully.
She stepped forward and pressed her palm to the ancient symbol etched into the stone wall. The Royal Sigil on her wrist began to glow. The earth groaned. Then the wall split, revealing the spiraling staircase into darkness.
She descended.
The vault was cold. Torches lit automatically as she passed, reacting to her energy. Rows of weapons lined the stone walls, glistening under the flickering light. Scrolls sealed in protective glass hummed with protective enchantments.
But at the center of it all—on a black pedestal—was what she had come for.
A circular golden crest, inlaid with sapphire and onyx, glowing with dormant power. The Crest of Aetheryn.
She stepped toward it, heart pounding.
As soon as her fingers brushed the surface, a blast of wind erupted from the pedestal, knocking shelves over and extinguishing the torches.
Her body lifted from the ground.
Visions overwhelmed her.
A wolf cloaked in starlight. A crown dripping with moonlight. A battlefield soaked in the blood of kings. A woman—her mother?—screaming her name.
And a voice. The same voice from the woods.
"This is only the beginning. Let the world remember: the Alpha Queen rises."
The wind died.
Selene dropped to her knees, gasping.
The crest now glowed around her neck, transformed into a pendant that pulsed with her heartbeat.
Suddenly—clapping echoed behind her.
"You really are full of surprises," Damien said.
Selene whirled around.
He was leaning against the vault door, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"You let me come this far?" she asked coldly.
"I wanted to see it myself. Wanted to see if it was true."
"And now?"
He shrugged. "Now I have to decide whether to kill you or kneel to you."
Selene smirked, rising to her feet. "You won't do either."
Damien blinked. "And why not?"
"Because you're afraid," she said, stepping closer. "You felt it, didn't you? The crest. The power. The shift in the pack bond. Whether you want to admit it or not, part of you recognizes that I'm above you now."
He said nothing.
"You rejected me, Damien," she continued, voice low. "But I forgive you. Because without your rejection, I never would have found who I truly am."
She turned and walked past him, the glow of the crest illuminating the corridor.
"I'm not here to destroy Moonfang," she added. "Not yet. But soon, the packs will gather. The throne of wolves will be claimed. And when that day comes…"
She glanced over her shoulder, eyes glowing like twin moons.
"You'll either be kneeling beside me—or beneath me."
Then she vanished into the night.