Night settled heavily over Silver Moon Palace, the kind of night where the moon watched too closely and secrets grew restless beneath its light.
Lyria stood on the balcony outside her chambers, one hand resting unconsciously on her abdomen. She did not yet have words for what she felt—only a deep, steady warmth, as if something within her had found its rhythm and refused to be ignored. The pack's earlier reaction still echoed in her chest: the bows, the murmurs, the acceptance that had come too fast to feel real.
She was Luna now.
And the kingdom knew.
Behind her, Kael entered quietly. He did not announce himself. He never needed to.
"You should be resting," he said softly.
She turned, searching his face. "Everything feels… different."
His jaw tightened—not in fear, but in recognition. "Because it is."
He crossed the space between them and stopped just short of touching her, as though he were afraid the moment might shatter if he did. "When the healer spoke, the pack felt it. Even before the words left her mouth."
Lyria's breath caught. "You felt it too."
Kael nodded. "So did Riven. So did every wolf tied to this land." His gaze dropped briefly to her stomach, reverent. "Our heir announced itself before we were ready."
A knock interrupted them—sharp, insistent.
Riven entered moments later, his expression dark. "Alpha. There's movement in the west wing."
"Iolde," Kael said, already knowing.
"She's… unraveling," Riven replied. "And she's trying to spin it as grief."
As if summoned by her name, Iolde appeared at the corridor's end, her steps unsteady, eyes rimmed red. She looked smaller than she ever had—no silk, no arrogance, only desperation clinging to her like mist.
"Kael," she whispered.
Lyria stiffened, but Kael moved instinctively, placing himself half a step in front of her.
"I lost everything," Iolde said, tears spilling freely now. "My child. My future. You cannot cast me aside after that."
Kael's voice was low, unwavering. "I did not cast you aside. Your own choices brought you here."
Her eyes flickered—just for a second—and that was when Selena stepped forward from the shadows near the archway.
"I warned her," Selena said quietly.
All heads turned.
Selena's hands trembled, but her gaze stayed fixed on Iolde. "I told you to stop meeting him. I told you the moon would expose you."
Iolde's head snapped toward her. "You traitor—"
"The arranged man," Selena continued, voice breaking now. "I saw him again tonight. Waiting. He believes the child was his."
The silence that followed was brutal.
Kael closed his eyes briefly—not in pain, but in resolve.
"Enough," he said.
Guards moved in immediately.
Iolde laughed suddenly, sharp and hysterical. "You believe a maid over your wife?"
Kael met her gaze, his own glowing faintly. "I believe the moon. And it no longer recognizes you."
She was dragged away screaming, her victory dissolving into terror.
Selena sagged where she stood, breath ragged. Riven steadied her silently.
Far beyond the palace walls, a circle of runes flared.
The witch felt it then.
A violent pull tore through her magic, knocking over vials and extinguishing candles. She gasped, clutching her chest.
"No…" she whispered.
This was not Iolde's power.
This was older. Wilder.
A future that could not be bent.
She straightened slowly, eyes blazing. "So the child has chosen to be known."
Back in Silver Moon Palace, Lyria swayed suddenly.
Kael caught her instantly.
"It's too much," she murmured. "Everything feels louder."
He lifted her without hesitation. "Then the world will wait."
As he carried her back into her chambers, the moon burned brighter overhead—bearing witness.
The pack had a Luna.
And soon, it would have an heir powerful enough to change everything.