The high chamber of the Black Mane fortress trembled with voices long before Kalethorn entered. Elders sat in a crescent ring, their robes heavy, their eyes brighter than the torches overhead. The air was thick with smoke and older grudges.
Keona stood at the far end of the hall beside Nyra, her hands clenched at her sides. She had not been asked to speak, but the weight of their stares pressed on her.
Elder Thamyris's voice cut through. "She carries it in her blood. I saw it with my own eyes — silver light like no wolf of the Black Mane line has ever wielded. What else could it be but sorcery?"
Nyra shot forward, snapping, "Sorcery? She saved your hides when the Dreadwolves broke through the walls! Had Keona not stood, your bones would be bleaching outside the gates."
"Do not raise your voice to the council," Elder Veyra snarled, her thin lips curling. "She drew those monsters to us in the first place."
"That's a lie," Nyra spat back.
Selene's laugh rang out, sweet and cruel. "Not a lie. A truth you cannot bear. The Dreadwolves came, and they came for her. Does anyone doubt that?"
A ripple of murmurs passed through the council ring.
Keona lifted her chin, her voice quiet but steady. "If they came for me, then it is I who must learn to fight them."
The words stilled the hall. Elder Deylon, the eldest among them, leaned forward, his beard touching his chest. "And how would you fight them, girl? You cannot shift. Without a wolf, you are half-formed."
"I am not half of anything," Keona said, firmer this time.
Selene's smile widened. "Then show us. Shift, here and now. Or prove to the council that you are nothing but a cursed shell."
Nyra barked, "You know she cannot—"
"Enough!" Kalethorn's voice boomed as he strode into the chamber. All eyes turned. His presence was highly intimidating, his shoulders squared, his dark gaze sweeping the circle. He did not look at Keona. He did not dare.
He faced the elders instead. "We do not question the loyalty of one who shed blood to protect this fortress. We do not spit upon those who stood in battle when others cowered."
Selene's voice purred from his right. "No one denies her courage, Kalethorn. But courage does not make her safe. The bond she carries binds her to you still. If she falters, so do you. If she dies—"
He cut her off. "Do not speak of what you do not understand."
The tension was palpable. The elders whispered among themselves until one barked loud enough to be heard: "If she remains, she must be trained. If she leaves, she must be cast out. There can be no middle path."
Another voice countered: "Train her? With what? She has no wolf."
"She has something," murmured Elder Thamyris. "That silver flame was not witchcraft. I have lived long enough to know when power is gift, not curse."
"Gift?" Selene snapped. "Or poison? Caelum's creatures bore the mark of darkness, and when they saw her, they turned their fury. You call that gift?"
The room fractured into raised voices, some shouting for Keona's exile, others for her training.
Kalethorn slammed his hand against the table. The chamber fell silent.
"You forget yourselves. She is under my protection. While she draws breath inside these walls, no one will touch her without my word."
Selene's eyes glittered. "And what of when the packs outside these walls learn of her? Do you think Darius will sit idle while you shelter a cursed mate?"
That name, Kalethorn hated that name. It hissed like a blade unsheathed.
As if summoned, the doors opened, and Darius Dravenmoor stepped into the hall. His presence filled the chamber like thunder. "Perhaps you should ask me yourself."
The elders erupted. Half rose to their feet, shouting in protest, while others fell into shocked silence.
Kalethorn's growl was low and deep. "For moon's sake Dravenmoor, you dare come into these halls uninvited once again?"
"I dare," Darius said calmly, his dark eyes never leaving Keona. "When your council debates the fate of one who should be free to choose it herself."
"Your presence is an insult," Selene spat.
"And your voice is venom," Darius shot back. "I heard whispers outside these walls before I ever stepped foot inside. It seems they carry far — and they stink of your hand."
Selene's composure cracked, her lips curling. "You presume too much."
"I presume nothing, you stupid pampered wench," Darius said, stepping forward. That earned him a frown from Selene, she turned, expecting Kaelthorn to silence him but he just looked away.
Darius' gaze softened when it fell on Keona. "I see a wolf who was denied her place, and I offer her mine. If she chooses it."
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Nyra's jaw dropped, then snapped shut with fury. "You think to buy her loyalty with sweet words? She is no prize for you and Kalethorn to barter."
Kalethorn's eyes blazed, his voice low, threatening. "You will not take her."
Darius turned, meeting him head-on. "Take? No. She is not yours, Fenrow. You rejected her. You spat upon the bond the Moon gave you. What right have you now to guard her like a chained wolf?"
The silence that followed was knife-sharp.
Keona's heart hammered, but she forced her voice to steady. "I am no one's chain. I stand where I choose."
Darius inclined his head, respectful. "Then let the council hear it from your lips, not theirs."
The elders buzzed like hornets. Some muttered that she should leave with him and end the division. Others whispered that keeping her was worth the risk. Selene's face was a mask of fury barely concealed beneath a smile.
Elder Deylon finally spoke, his voice heavy. "Enough. The matter cannot be left to bickering. The girl stands between two alphas and two fates. We will decide at the next moon council."
Selene seized the opening. "And until then, she remains watched. Controlled. If the Dreadwolves come again, we cannot have her summoning them with her cursed blood."
Nyra barked, "Say that again and I'll tear your tongue—"
"Nyra!" Kalethorn's command cracked across the room.
Nyra seethed but bit back her retort, standing protectively at Keona's side.
Darius smirked. "At least she defends her. More than can be said of some." His eyes, though aimed at Selene, struck Kalethorn like an arrow.
Kalethorn's hands curled into fists. He wanted to shout that he did defend her, that every breath he held back was to keep her alive. But duty locked his tongue.
Elder Veyra rose, voice sharp. "Then it is decided. The next moon council will choose. Until then, she remains."
The gavel struck, ending the session.
But even as the elders filed out, voices low and urgent, the fracture was clear. Half looked at Keona with suspicion, half with something closer to awe. Selene's smile never faltered, but her eyes promised blood. Darius remained, lingering at the far end of the chamber, his gaze steady on Keona until Kalethorn stepped between them.
"Leave."
Darius's smile was slight, dangerous. "What's the matter Kaelthorn, Jealous? Feeling threatened? Afraid? The council may silence me, Fenrow, but she will not. Perhaps she already knows where she belongs."
He turned and strode out, leaving tension thick as smoke in his wake.
Kalethorn stood frozen, his back to Keona, his shoulders rigid. He did not speak. Could not.
Keona, trembling though she would not show it, whispered to Nyra, "I am not cursed. I am not."
Nyra squeezed her hand. "No. You're more than they can imagine."
But Selene's whisper followed, low enough only Keona could hear as she passed:
"You will be gone before the next moon rises. One way or another."