Five years had woven themselves into the fabric of Ember's life, vines reclaiming an ancient ruin. The night of the Moon rite, when Kadyn's urgent knock had echoed through the den, had been a turning point etched in shadow and flame. Kadyn, fifteen then, had seen the flicker, the golden flash of her serval soul, but in the hushed conversation that followed—Tobias's stern warnings mingling with Ember's tearful pleas—his loyalty had held, his vow of silence a shield for her secret. "You're still Flame Fang to me, Em," he'd whispered, his hand clasping hers. "Wolf or whatever, you're pack."
In the years that followed, Ember had honed her control, keeping her dual nature at bay through sheer will, the pendant a constant weight against her chest, uninvoked but ever-present. She grew taller, her chestnut curls tamed into braids adorned with feathers and beads, her frame lean and strong from hunts and training. At seventeen, she was no longer the frightened girl of the glade but a young woman with eyes that held the depth of hidden storms. The pack had accepted her fully, her skills as a tracker and healer—echoes of her mother's legacy—earning her respect. Kadyn, now twenty, a broad-shouldered warrior with a scar across his cheek from a border skirmish, remained her closest ally, their friendship laced with unspoken tensions that neither dared name. Yet, like her dual nature, Ember felt other hidden gifts simmering beneath the surface—subtle sparks that hinted at deeper powers from the Old Spirits, waiting to ignite.
Scorchvale Ridge had changed, too. Whispers of unrest filtered through the pines: rival packs encroaching on borders, strange omens from the Old Spirits—rivers running red, stars falling like tears. At the heart of it all stood the Silver Crown, the grand castle of the Alpha Sovereigns, rulers of the United Packs. Perched atop the jagged peaks of the Moonscar Mountains, the castle was a fortress of gleaming stone and iron, its towers piercing the clouds like fangs. The Alpha King, Thorne, and his Queen, Evelyn, governed with iron will, their son, Prince Haven, heir to the throne. Haven, seventeen, was said to be a shifter of unmatched prowess, his wolf form a massive beast with fur like midnight and eyes of molten gold. But rumors swirled: the prince was restless, unbound by a mate, and the kingdom needed unity, a queen to strengthen alliances and quell the growing shadows.
It was on a crisp autumn dawn, with leaves carpeting the forest floor in shades of crimson and gold, that the summons arrived. Ember was in the central clearing, sharpening arrows with Kadyn when the riders thundered in. Three wolves shifted to human form mid-stride, their cloaks embroidered with the Silver Crown's emblem, a snarling wolf encircled by thorns. The lead messenger, a stern woman with silver streaks in her hair, unrolled a parchment sealed with wax.
"By decree of Alpha King Thorne," she proclaimed, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the gathered pack, "all unmated females aged sixteen to twenty-two summers from the Flame Fang Pack are summoned to the Silver Crown. They shall reside in the castle, receive instruction in the ways of court and combat, and present themselves for the prince's choosing. A mate must be selected to bind the packs in strength. Refusal is treason."
The clearing erupted in whispers. Grimhowl, older now with a limp from old wounds, nodded gravely. "The Ridge answers the call," he rumbled. "Our daughters will go with honor."
Ember's heart stuttered. The age range called forth a select group, and in the Flame Fang Pack, only five were unmated and within those years: herself, at seventeen; the twins Mira and Lira, also seventeen, with their fiery tempers; shy Sara, sixteen, who wove baskets like art; and bold Sable, Kadyn's cousin, nineteen, who shifted with the grace of a storm. All bound for the castle. But they were not alone in this summons; messengers had ridden to other packs across the United Packs—the Aero Claws of the northern tundra's, gifted with the winds that bent to their will; the Terra Fangs from the misty valleys, whose earth gifts grounded them in unyielding strength; and the Aqua Paws of the volcanic ridges, masters of waters that could heal or flood. In total, twenty young women, chosen for their strength and lineage, would converge at the Silver Crown, each representing their pack's elemental heritage, all vying for the prince's favor in a selection that could reshape alliances.
Tobias stood at the edge of the crowd, his face a mask of stone, but his eyes met Ember's with a flicker of dread. The pendant, still warm against her chest, seemed to pulse, a reminder that her control was fragile, her dual nature a risk in the face of such scrutiny. Her tracking instincts, honed in Scorchvale Ridge's wilds, might serve her in navigating the court's tangled politics, but the weight of her hidden gifts felt heavier than ever.
As the pack dispersed to prepare, Kadyn pulled Ember aside, his hand lingering on her arm. "This is madness," he muttered, his voice low. "Parading you like prizes? Haven's a stranger, Em. What if… what if your secret slips there, among strangers? And with girls up to twenty-two, some will have more experience than you."
She forced a smile, though fear coiled in her gut like a serpent. "I've held it back this long," she said, touching the pendant lightly. "I'll manage. And besides, it's not just me. We're all going—twenty of us from across the packs, chosen for our strength. Maybe it's a chance—for alliances, for something more than hiding in the Ridge." But her words felt hollow.
Preparations were swift. The girls were outfitted in simple tunics of forest green, embroidered with the Flame Fang's sigil, a fang wreathed in vines. Tobias gifted Ember a small vial of herbs, "For calm, if your nature stirs," he whispered, his embrace fierce. "Remember who you are, my star. Not just wolf, but whole."
The journey to the Silver Crown took three days, the messengers leading them on wolf-back through mist-shrouded valleys and up winding mountain paths. The castle loomed as they approached, its gates flanked by statues of snarling guardians, banners whipping in the wind. The Silver Crown was a marvel that stole the breath from even the hardiest shifter. Its walls rose in seamless slabs of pale stone, veined with silver that shimmered like moonlight caught in ice. Towers spiraled upward, their spires crowned with sculpted wolves whose eyes were inset with glowing opals. The gates, forged of iron and inlaid with intricate carvings of the United Packs' history, swung open with a groan that echoed like a beast's growl. Beyond, sprawling courtyards bloomed with gardens of luminous flowers, their petals pulsing faintly with the Old Spirits' magic, and fountains that danced with water that seemed to sing. The air carried scents of polished cedar, sweet incense, and the sharp tang of molten metal from distant forges.
As the Flame Fang girls dismounted, their eyes widened, mouths agape at the grandeur. Mira and Lira giggled, pointing at chandeliers suspended in the entry hall, their crystals refracting light into rainbows that spilled across marble floors. Sara clutched her woven satchel, whispering about the tapestries—woven with threads that seemed to shift, depicting wolves running through starlit forests. Sable let out a low whistle, her bold demeanor softened by awe as she traced a finger along a banister carved with vines that seemed to writhe under her touch. The other fifteen girls, hailing from the Aero Claws, Terra Fangs, and Aqua Paws, were equally enchanted, their voices a chorus of gasps and excited chatter. Some appeared older, their poise suggesting years up to twenty-two, their elemental gifts humming with practiced strength. The Aero Claws marveled at the vaulted ceilings painted with storm clouds that seemed to swirl; the Terra Fangs touched the stone walls, sensing their earthen strength; the Aqua Paws stared at the fountains, their water gifts humming in response.
Ember, however, stood apart, her gaze sharp and watchful. She appreciated the beauty, the way the light caught the silver veins in the stone, the intricate mosaics of wolves and elemental symbols underfoot, the sheer opulence of a place where every surface gleamed with purpose. But it unnerved her too. The Flame Fang dens were warm, earthy, alive with the crackle of fire and the scent of pine. Here, everything was polished to perfection, a world of cold elegance and rigid order. The lifestyle of the Silver Crown, its wealth, its formality, its grandeur, was alien to her, a stark contrast to the rough-hewn simplicity of Scorchvale Ridge. Her fingers brushed the pendant, its warmth grounding her. She felt the weight of her dual nature and the hidden gifts she dared not name, stirring like flames beneath her skin. This place, with its watchful guards, whispered politics, and now a field of rivals with up to six years' more experience, could unravel everything she'd fought to conceal, yet her tracker's instincts whispered of a chance to navigate its dangers.
Guards in polished armor ushered them through halls that echoed with the growls of distant shifters, the air thick with the scent of wax and incense. They were led to lavish chambers in the eastern wing, rooms with fur-draped beds, velvet curtains, and windows overlooking snow-capped peaks framed by gilded arches. The chambers were adorned with mirrors that reflected light in dizzying patterns and shelves laden with books bound in leather that smelled of ancient forests. The twenty girls spilled into the space, their voices rising in excitement, Mira twirling to test the softness of the rugs, Lira touching the silk bedspreads with a squeal, Sara staring wide-eyed at a crystal vase filled with glowing flowers, Sable grinning as she tested the weight of a silver candelabra. The Aero Claw girls, some with the confident poise of older women, whispered of air currents weaving through the high windows; the Terra Fangs, including a few with weathered strength, knelt to feel the stone floor's pulse; the Aqua Paws, one or two bearing the grace of maturity, dipped fingers into a basin, murmuring as the water shimmered under their touch.
Ember lingered near a window, her expression calm but her mind racing. The beauty was undeniable, but it felt like a gilded cage, each detail a reminder of the stakes. She was here to be paraded, judged, chosen or discarded. The pendant hummed against her chest, a warning of her dual nature and the hidden gifts she dared not name.
"You will be trained," a matronly woman named Vera explained, her eyes sharp as she assessed them. "In etiquette, strategy, shifting arts, and the history of the United Packs. Each day, you will parade before Prince Haven: dinners, hunts, dances. He will choose his mate by the next full moon."
As the door closed behind Vera, the girls' chatter erupted anew, giggles and whispers filling the chamber like a flock of birds. But Ember remained by the window, gazing at the moon rising over the mountains. Haven was out there, somewhere in the castle's depths, a prince seeking a bride. What would he see in her, a wolf or the deeper gifts hidden within? And what of those gifts, stirring like flames beneath her skin, now challenged by rivals up to twenty-two summers strong?