Chapter 13 – "The Ceremony of Stripes."
The path to the upper chamber wound through narrow corridors of carved stone. Every wall shimmered faintly with mineral dust, glittering like captured stars in the half-light. Nox walked ahead, his movements deliberate, his mane tied back with a strip of leather—a warrior's formality. Luka and Chyron flanked me, silent for once.
I could hear the drums now—slow, deliberate, echoing through the bones of the hall. Each beat seemed to settle into my chest until my pulse moved with it.
At the final archway stood the guards. They were lions too, though their stripes shimmered faintly beneath their skin—three each. Their eyes tracked me with the calm hunger of predators used to judging worth.
"Pride Leader Nox," one rumbled, bowing his head slightly. "You bring a new female before the Circle?"
"I bring my chosen," Nox said simply.
The words hung in the air like a thrown blade. A few gasps followed, and even the guards' expressions tightened. Declaring me chosen wasn't just recognition—it was protection and challenge both.
The guards stepped aside, their tails flicking once in acknowledgment.
Inside, the chamber opened wide. Sunlight poured from the dome above, hitting the great ring of stone thrones encircling the floor. Five seats stood at the apex—elders, their stripes marking them as the strongest lions of the region. Below them, ranked according to power, were males and females of lesser status, their colors blending into a living tapestry of golds, bronzes, and deep browns.
The scent of incense filled the air—resin and burnt sage. It masked the scent of tension, but not completely.
Nox led me to the circle's edge and stopped. He knelt—just enough to show respect, not submission. I followed suit, though my movements felt strange, measured, foreign.
A voice rose from the highest seat. Deep, rasping, old as dry stone. "You bring a foreign scent into our heart, Nox."
"She carries the heart of a lioness," Nox said. "And the strength of one."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Another elder, her mane streaked silver, leaned forward. "We have not seen her before. Her beast form?"
Nox's gaze flicked to me. His look was a question, a warning, and permission all at once.
My breath steadied. Without hesitation, I let the shift take me.
Bones lengthened and reshaped, muscles flowing like water beneath skin. Fur bloomed across my arms, gold and pale as desert light. My tail unfurled, and the chamber filled with the scent of wild earth and power.
Gasps. A few growls of appreciation—or challenge.
When I stood again, still half-shifted, the eldest elder spoke, voice low but carrying. "A lioness with no stripes."
"Yet," Nox said quietly.
The old lion's lips curled. "Then perhaps she should earn them."
The crowd stirred, sensing the promise of conflict.
Chyron's tail brushed lightly against my leg, a silent warning. Luka's eyes were steady, bright.
I met the elder's gaze. "I plan to."
The old lion chuckled. "We will see, child. The ceremony is only beginning."
Drums thundered once more.
A young attendant stepped forward, carrying a bowl carved from obsidian. Inside it, fine powder shimmered—ground crystal, pale blue. The air tingled faintly around it.
Nox took a pinch and pressed it to my forehead. The powder burned cool against my skin. "By the law of stripes," he intoned, "I present Maise, lioness reborn, to the Circle of Beasts."
The drums stopped. The silence was almost sacred.
Somewhere above, sunlight caught the crystal dust, and for an instant the air around me shimmered like heat.
Then, one by one, the elders struck their staffs against the stone—acknowledgment.
I had been seen. Not accepted. Not yet. But seen.
As the sound faded, the eldest rose from his throne. "Let her prove herself in the trials," he said, a faint smile curving his mouth. "Let us see if her roar can shake the Circle."
Nox's hand found my shoulder—steady, grounding. "You just did," he murmured.