The corridor outside Keona's chamber was empty, save for the faint hiss of torches moving against the stone. She had just closed her door when she felt it — the shift in air, the presence behind her.
"Going somewhere, little stray?"
Selene's voice slid like a knife between her ribs. Keona turned slowly. Selene stood in the shadow of the archway, her dark silks rippling like water, eyes glittering with triumph.
Keona steadied herself. "What do you want, Selene?"
Selene stepped closer, each heel clicking against the stone. "What I've always wanted. To see you gone. But it seems pity is in fashion among certain elders. They want to train you, as if you were a gift from the Moon herself."
Her lips curled. "But I know better. I see the truth. You are poison. And I will see you excised before your stench spreads further."
Keona's chest tightened, but she forced her voice calm. "If you fear me so much, perhaps it is because you know you cannot stand against me."
Selene's hand shot out, gripping Keona's chin with nails sharp enough to bite her skin. Her whisper burned against Keona's ear. "I don't fear you. I despise you. You think silver light makes you chosen? It makes you cursed. You think Kalethorn's eyes linger? He looks at you with shame, not desire. And when the Moon Council decides, I will make certain your fate is sealed."
Keona yanked free, her breath sharp. "We'll see whose fate is sealed."
Selene's smile flashed cruel. "Enjoy your small defiance while you can. Tomorrow, the Luna's Festival begins. And before the eyes of the Black Mane Howlers, they will see me raised high. And you—" she leaned in, eyes shining like glass shards— "you will kneel in the dirt where you belong."
She left with the rustle of silk and toxin lingering in the air.
—————
The next day, the fortress roared with life. Lanterns of crimson and gold swung from every beam, and drums pounded from dawn. Wolves of every rank filled the courtyards, their laughter and howls mingling with the music.
The Luna's Festival — a tradition as old as the throne itself. It marked the blessing of a Luna beside her Alpha. Tonight, Selene would be crowned before the pack.
Keona kept to the edges of the celebration. Nyra glued at her side, muttering curses under her breath.
"This is rot," Nyra snapped, glaring as servants rushed past carrying trays of wine and roasted meat. "That snake has the council eating from her claws, and now she parades herself like the Moon herself chose her. It should have been you."
"Don't say that," Keona murmured.
"It's true," Nyra bit back. "You are his mate. The bond isn't broken, no matter how he tries to deny it."
Keona's throat tightened, but she said nothing.
At the center dais, Kalethorn stood in ceremonial armor, looking handsome and regal, his shoulders broad, his jaw carved of gravel. His eyes scanned the crowd as if searching for something, they found her — pausing, just for a moment, where Keona lingered. Then he looked away.
Selene swept in like a queen born, her gown glittering black, her hair braided with jewels. The pack cheered, voices rising until the stones quaked.
She smiled, lifting her hand, then turned her gaze — deliberate and sharp — toward Keona.
"Bring the wine," Selene commanded.
Keona froze. Nyra's eyes flared. "Don't move Keona, don't you dare—"
But Keona moved. And Kalethorn's gaze, heavy from the dais, pinned her. Not with command, but with helpless silence. He said nothing.
Slowly, Keona stepped forward. She took the tray from a trembling servant and carried it across the floor. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as all eyes watched her climb the steps.
Selene leaned in, her voice soft enough only Keona could hear. "Smile, little stray. Show them how well you serve."
Keona's hand tightened on the goblet. For a heartbeat, she considered flinging the wine in Selene's face. Instead, she set it down with quiet precision and met her eyes.
And for the first time, she did not bow.
Selene's smile faltered.
Keona's voice, low and cutting, but carried enough for those closest to hear. "Careful, Selene. One day you may find the silver flame burns more than you expect."
Gasps broke from the nearest pack members. Nyra grinned savagely, stifling a chuckle. Selene's jaw tightened, her eyes dark as midnight.
Kalethorn's chest tightened. He had seen Keona quiet, reserved, wounded. Never like this. Pride rose uninvited, tangled with something hotter, sharper. He crushed it down, but it remained — burning.
Keona turned and walked away.
The ceremony droned on. Elders spoke words of blessing, invoking the Moon's grace. Selene basked in it, smiling wide, her hand linked to Kalethorn's. Yet every time Keona's gaze brushed hers, Selene's smile twitched at the edges.
The festival swelled into night. Wolves danced beneath the moon, drums shook the air, fire roared in braziers. Keona stayed at the fringes, her chest still hot with the thrill of defiance.
But as the moon reached its zenith, as the elders were about to proclaim their final blessings sealing the ceremony, something shifted.
Keona staggered, her vision blurring. A strange light spilled across her skin, silver and sharp. Nyra caught her arm. "Keona? What's wrong?"
The world tilted. The music warped into silence.
And then she saw it.
Silver wolves, hundreds of them, howling in unison, their bodies blazing like stars. A throne carved of black stone, dripping red with blood. A crown shattering into shards. And standing at the center — a figure cloaked in silver fire, its face hidden.
Keona gasped, falling to her knees.
The vision burned into her eyes, searing, unstoppable.
And then it was gone.
The courtyard had gone still. Every eye was on her. Silver light lingered faintly across her skin, visible to all.
Selene's voice cut the silence, high and sharp. "Do you see? Do you all see? The curse consumes her!"
Nyra eyed her angrily.
Keona's heart thundered, her breath ragged. But she lifted her head, and her eyes blazed back at Selene.
And for the first time, she did not look afraid.