The Great Hall of the Silver Crown was a symphony of grandeur, its vaulted ceilings soaring like the peaks of the Moonscar Mountains, adorned with banners of snarling wolves embroidered in silver thread that caught the torchlight and shimmered like stars. Massive oak tables stretched across the polished marble floor, laden with platters of roasted meats, jeweled fruits, and goblets of spiced wine, the air thick with the scents of herbs, smoke, and anticipation. Nobles and advisors from the United Packs mingled in clusters, their attire a tapestry of elemental symbols, fiery reds, swirling blues, earthy greens, and flowing teals whispering behind gloved hands as the twenty girls entered in a procession, their gowns a vibrant parade under the watchful eyes of the court. Older girls, some nearing twenty-two, moved with practiced ease among the nobles, their experience a challenge Ember met with cunning honed in Scorchvale Ridge.
Vera led them forward, her gray wool dress a stark contrast to the opulence, as guards in polished armor flanked the doors. At the hall's far end, upon a raised dais, sat the royal family. King Thorne, a towering figure with a mane of iron-gray hair and a crown of twisted thorns, exuded unyielding authority, his amber eyes scanning the girls like a predator assessing his pack. Queen Evelyn, elegant in a gown of midnight blue embroidered with silver moons, sat beside him, her posture graceful, her smile warm yet discerning. Prince Haven, seventeen, stood to their right, his black tunic fitted over his muscular frame, his midnight hair unbound, falling to his shoulders. His golden eyes, sharp and restless, betrayed his unbound spirit, and Ember felt a faint pull from her pendant as she glimpsed him, its warmth stirring like a hidden flame.
The presentation began with Vera announcing each girl by name and pack, the court murmuring approvals or critiques. The Aero Claws went first, Aria, eighteen, stepping forward with a curtsy that was the epitome of wind's grace, her blue silks billowing. "Aria of the Aero Claws, gifted with the winds that carry the United Packs." Queen Evelyn leaned forward, her eyes lighting with interest. "Such poise, dear. The winds have shaped you well. Tell me, do you dance as freely as your element?" Aria's response was honeyed, "Indeed, Your Majesty, the winds teach us to adapt and enchant." The queen laughed softly, a bond forming, Aria's sharp tongue veiled behind her charm.
The Terra Fangs followed, Riven, seventeen, curtsying with solid strength, her green velvet gown unmoving. "Riven of the Terra Fangs, bearers of earth's unyielding might." The queen nodded approvingly, but her interest was polite. The Aqua Paws came next, Liora, twenty, gliding like a wave, her teal gown shimmering. "Liora of the Aqua Paws, masters of waters that heal and surge." Evelyn complimented her fluidity, but the exchange was brief.
Finally, the Flame Fangs. Mira and Lira, seventeen, curtsied together, their crimson gowns vibrant, their fiery tempers tempered into eager smiles. Sable, nineteen, followed, bold and direct, her slit gown accentuating her warrior stance. Sara, sixteen, went next, her orange lace trembling as she dipped low. "Sara of the Flame Fangs, weavers of fire's warmth." Her voice wavered, and Aria, nearby, whispered loudly, "Weaving? More like fumbling, like with those forks. How quaint for a queen." Sara flushed, her eyes dropping, the court's murmurs masking the barb but not its sting.
Ember stepped forward last, her scarlet silk flowing with quiet grace, the pendant catching the torchlight. "Ember of the Flame Fangs, kindlers of fire's enduring light." As she curtsied, her eyes met Haven's, and his golden gaze held hers a moment longer, a spark of curiosity flickering. The pendant pulsed, its pull echoing Haven's hidden shadow-shifting gift, a duality he guarded as fiercely as she did her own. Kadyn's words from Scorchvale Ridge—"You're pack, Em"—echoed, urging her to stand strong amidst the court's scrutiny. Queen Evelyn smiled politely, but her eyes lingered on Aria, charmed by her earlier poise.
The meet-and-greet followed, the girls circulating among the royals and nobles, practicing their etiquette. Aria monopolized the queen, laughing at Evelyn's jests, her antagonism hidden as she whispered, "How rustic" about Sara, making Evelyn chuckle indulgently. Sara hovered near the edges, her confidence fraying, until Aria approached, her voice cutting. "Still weaving dreams, little flame? The royal table's for those who don't flicker out." Sara stammered, tears pricking her eyes.
Ember glided over with cat-like cunning, her protective instincts flaring. "Sara's weaves hold the pack together, Aria," she said, her voice diplomatic, a smile curving her lips. "Like winds that fan flames into infernos, imagine what we could achieve united." Her words praised Sara while implying Aria's barbs were self-defeating, forcing a retreat with a forced laugh. "Of course, dear. Just teasing." Sara exhaled, gratitude in her eyes, as Ember squeezed her hand. Haven observed from afar, his intrigue deepening at Ember's protection, the pendant's pull echoing his secret.
King Thorne rose, his goblet raised. "To the United Packs, and the strength of our future." Evelyn added, "To the daughters of our packs." Haven, doing his duty, joined them, his eyes lingering on Ember's pendant, a silent recognition stirring.
The royal family bid goodnight, Thorne lingering on Riven and Ember, Evelyn on Aria. Haven assisted the girls from the dais, his touch brief but firm with Ember, his eyes locking with hers. "Goodnight, Ember," he said softly. "Your fire… intrigues." Her breath caught, the pendant warm. "Goodnight, Your Highness," she replied, her heart racing.
The girls rejoined their peers, the hall buzzing as Vera led them out. The meal's splendor and Aria's malice lingered, but so did Thorne's interest and Haven's connection, a thread of destiny weaving through the night.