The gates of Crimson Claw territory loomed like black jaws against the winter sky.
Arielle sat stiffly on the horse behind Lucien, her hands gripping the saddle as wolves in dark armor flanked them on all sides. None spoke to her. None looked her in the eye.
But their growls said everything.
She wasn't welcome.
Lucien hadn't said much during the ride. Only that the council would not be pleased. That bringing an outsider—her—into the heart of the most powerful pack in the region would be seen as betrayal.
She didn't ask why he risked it.
She wasn't sure he even knew.
---
The gates opened with a groan, revealing a fortress nestled into the cliffside, carved from black stone and steel. Crimson banners whipped in the cold wind, the sigil of the Claw—a fanged wolf—etched into everything.
Wolves lined the steps as Lucien dismounted, their gazes sharp and suspicious.
Arielle slid down behind him, her boots crunching in the snow.
Whispers started immediately.
"That's the omega?"
"She smells… strange."
"She's not one of us."
"Why would the prince bring her here?"
Lucien didn't flinch. "This is Arielle," he announced coldly. "She is under my protection."
A scoff rose from the crowd, followed by a venom-laced voice.
"Protection? Or possession?"
An older woman stepped forward—tall, silver-haired, wrapped in a velvet cloak. Her eyes were sharp as glass, and they pinned Arielle in place.
"Lady Calista," Lucien said stiffly. "We won't do this in front of the pack."
"You brought her here. She walks with the scent of death—and something older. You think we wouldn't feel it?"
Arielle opened her mouth, but Lucien stepped between them. "She's not a threat."
"Not yet," Calista said. "But that doesn't mean she won't be."
---
The council chamber was built into the mountain itself—cold and echoing, lit by blue flame torches. Six elders sat in a semicircle, their robes heavy with rank. At the center sat Elder Ronan, the oldest among them.
Lucien stood at Arielle's side as she faced them.
"She showed power," he told them plainly. "She stopped Ravage's hunter mid-attack. Without shifting. Without training."
Gasps echoed. One of the elders leaned forward. "That's impossible."
"I saw it," Lucien said. "She's not normal."
Ronan's eyes studied her closely, as if peering through layers no one else could see.
"You said her name is Arielle," the old man murmured.
She nodded silently.
Ronan rose slowly, stepped down from his seat.
He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a worn, ancient pendant—shaped like a wolf wrapped in flame.
Arielle's breath caught. She'd seen it before.
In her dreams.
Ronan pressed it into her palm.
"You shouldn't exist," he whispered. "But you do. Just like your father said you would."
The room fell silent.
Lucien's expression turned to stone. "You knew her father?"
Ronan nodded. "I served under Alpha Caelum—your true king. I was there the night he fell."
Arielle felt her knees weaken.
Ronan looked at her with something between sorrow and awe. "He made us swear to protect you. But someone betrayed that oath. Someone buried your legacy in lies."
He turned toward the council.
"She is not just any girl. She is the blood of Caelum Varyn—the last Alpha King."
---
Lucien stepped back, his jaw clenched tight. "So it's true."
Arielle stared down at the pendant in her palm. It pulsed with warmth.
"My name," she said quietly, "is Arielle Varyn?"
Ronan nodd
ed. "You are the heir to a broken throne. And whether you want it or not… your war is just beginning."