The Hall had barely begun to settle from the chaos of the Dreadwolf attack and Selene's poisonous whispers when the great doors thundered open.
A wave of cold air swept through, carrying the scent of iron and frost. Wolves turned as one, hackles rising, growls low in their throats. Warriors gripped the hilts of their blades, while others bared their fangs instinctively.
Through the doors strode Darius Dravenmoor. His presence filled the hall like a hurricane — intimidating, commanding, broad-shouldered, his eyes sharp black beneath a scar carved into his temple. He moved with the easy confidence of a predator who knew no one could touch him, though he walked into the heart of his rival's stronghold.
Annoyance rippled through the gathered wolves. The Black Mane Howlers and Ironcrest Pride didn't just stroll into each other's halls without bloodshed but yet, here was Darius, defiantly doing it without a care in the world.
Kalethorn rose slowly from the high seat, his frame taut with tension. "Darius." His voice was a growl beneath the surface. "How dare you enter Blood Moon fortress once again?"
Darius's lips curled in a faint smile, though his gaze flickered briefly across the chamber — and landed on Keona. His expression softened, only for a heartbeat, before he faced Kalethorn.
"I come under parley," Darius said smoothly. "There is no law that forbids a rival Alpha from entering when the throne of the moon itself may be at risk."
Selene bristled where she stood beside Kalethorn. "Lies. You come to flaunt yourself. To sniff at our weakness."
But Darius ignored her entirely, stepping forward until he stood at the center of the chamber. His eyes never left Keona.
"I came because I was with Keona during the attack," he said plainly. "As you all know, she burned Caelum's Dreadwolves to ash."
The hall erupted in murmurs.
Keona's heart thudded painfully in her chest as every eye swung toward her. She wished she could vanish into the stone.
Darius bowed his head slightly toward her — not mockingly, not as if she were a curiosity, but with the respect due to someone who had faced death and prevailed. "Keona Stormfang," he said, her name rolling off his tongue like something rare. "You have done what even Alphas could not. And so I bring you an offer."
Nyra stiffened beside her, bristling like a shieldwolf ready to lunge. "An offer?"
Darius's voice sailed through the hall for all to hear. "If you are not safe here, if your gifts are feared instead of honored — then come with me. The Ironcrest Pride will shelter you. Train you. Treat you as the treasure you are, not the curse they whisper about here."
The chamber roared into chaos. Elders shouted over one another.
"This is trickery!"
"He only seeks to weaken us!"
"But if he trains her, she may truly destroy the Dreadwolves—"
Another cut in, "Better that she be far from us than bring Caelum's eye down on our gates—"
Elder Branor rose, striking his staff against the stone. "Silence!" His voice boomed across the hall, commanding obedience. His eyes burned into Keona's. "The girl's gift cannot be ignored. She must be trained, lest it consume her."
Elder Veyra snapped back, her sharp features twisted in disdain. "No! What? I strongly disagree. Train her, and risk her unleashing fire upon us all? Better she be cast out now, before her power brings the mage's gaze upon the Black Mane Howlers. Caelum will not ignore this long."
"His gaze is already upon us, or have you not realized that already? The dreadwolves are here," branor responded.
The elders turned to Kalethorn, voices clamoring, urging him toward decision. But Keona felt the pull of Darius's gaze like a rope around her wrist. He had not stopped watching her, not for a breath.
She forced herself to speak, her voice shaking but clear. "I will not leave."
The hall hushed at her words. Even Darius blinked, taken aback.
"I did not ask for this gift," Keona said, her hands curling into fists, "but I will not run from it. And I do not need to be rescued. Not by anyone."
Her chest heaved, but her voice steadied as she locked eyes with Darius. "Not even you."
A murmur rippled through the crowd — surprise, respect, suspicion.
Nyra grinned fiercely beside her, pride flashing in her eyes. Selene's face twisted into a frown, as though she had expected Keona to crumble and was disappointed by her defiance.
Darius's expression, however, did not sour. If anything, his respect deepened. His voice lowered, though it carried enough to be heard. "Strong words. Stronger than the Alpha who turned his back on his fated mate."
That, more than anything, ignited the hall. Growls erupted. Kalethorn's eyes blazed dark-gold, his wolf prowling just beneath his skin. He descended from the high seat, each step thunderous.
"You tread dangerously, Darius," Kalethorn snarled. "This is my hall. My pack. And you dare come here, offering shelter to what is mine?"
The last word struck the air like a sword. Keona flinched, the claim heavy, binding, though he had rejected her.
Darius did not step back. He squared his shoulders, his presence matching Kalethorn's like two storms colliding. "What is yours? Don't make me laugh. You spurned her," Darius said, his voice edged with steel. "And yet you clutch at her when another would honor her strength? She owes you nothing. If she chooses, she will walk with me — and you will not stop her."
The chamber held its breath. Wolves shifted uneasily, torn between awe and terror as the two Alphas locked wills. Selene's shrill voice rolled after Kalethorn. "Do not let him speak so! Cast him out my Alpha, before he taints this hall further!"
But the elders stirred uneasily. Some nodded at Selene's words, but others looked at Keona with something different in their eyes—hope, fear, uncertainty.
Elder Branor leaned toward his fellows, his voice low but urgent. "Like I said before, if Darius speaks truth, if she is willing… then she must be trained. Whether here or elsewhere."
Elder Veyra hissed back, "Not you with this again Branor. Why should she be trained? Is this your plan? To have her weaponized? If she learns to wield it, there is a chance she could turn on us all. What if Caelum claims her gift for himself?"
"Honestly, I don't believe she would do that. Besides, the more control she has, the more inclined she would be to keep Caelum from her gifts. The mage can only claim her abilities if she's untrained—if she's afraid of them." Branor stressed. "She could be our salvation."
The council fractured further, arguments breaking out in hushed but furious tones. Kalethorn's jaw tightened as though the weight of the world pressed on him.
Keona stood frozen, caught in the crossfire, her pulse hammering. She wanted to scream that she was not a prize to be claimed, nor a curse to be caged. But her voice felt trapped, heavy, as the two Alphas circled each other like wolves before a fight.
Finally, Kalethorn's voice cut through, low and lethal. "Stay away from her, Darius. You will not set foot in this hall again. If you do, you will not leave alive."
Darius's smile was slow, dangerous, but there was no mockery in his tone. Only challenge. He glanced once more at Keona, his eyes holding hers.
"So what do you say Stormfang? Perhaps," he said, his voice ringing with certainty, "she will decide for herself."
The hall went still. The words hung in the air like a dagger about to fall.