The world spun in silver and red. Keona's knees buckled beneath her as the vision poured through her veins like molten fire, blinding, unrelenting. She saw wolves, vast and shimmering, their pelts gleaming with moonlight so bright it burned her eyes. Behind them loomed a throne drenched in blood, its steps carved from bone. Screams echoed, war drums thundered, and then the throne cracked down the middle, spilling rivers of crimson.
She woke in the dirt of the festival square, gasping. The crowd's laughter and music had stopped. Dozens of eyes bore into her—some fearful, others hostile. Whispers rippled like wildfire.
"She collapsed under the moon!"
"No, did you not see her eyes? They glowed!"
"She's cursed, I tell you. This is the Blood Moon's punishment."
"Or… prophecy."
Keona staggered upright, but Nyra was already at her side, gripping her arm. "Easy. Breathe. You're fine," Nyra snapped at the gathering wolves, shielding her friend with her body. "She's fine. Keep your filthy mouths shut!"
But the whispers did not stop. Selene, standing in the center of the crowd in her gleaming festival silks, pressed a manicured hand to her mouth in mock horror. "A vision in the middle of my Luna's Festival?" she said, her voice pitched just high enough to carry. "The cursed girl faints at the feet of the pack, and you expect us to believe it's coincidence? No. This is a sign."
Gasps followed, and suddenly half the wolves were nodding. Keona's pulse thundered. She opened her mouth to retort, but Nyra beat her to it.
"Don't you dare." Nyra's snarl cut through the silence. "You'll twist anything to poison this pack against her."
Selene's smile sharpened, though her eyes never left Kalethorn. The Alpha's jaw was rigid as stone, his gaze flicking between Keona, trembling but upright, and the woman he had publicly chosen as his Luna.
"Enough," Kalethorn growled. His voice silenced the square. "The festival is over. Return to your homes."
The pack scattered, unease simmering beneath their obedience.
—————
That night, Keona sat by the dying embers of the hearth. The glow washed over her pale face, sweat still damp on her brow. Nyra shoved a cup of steaming herbs into her hands.
"Drink. Whatever that was, it rattled the entire pack."
Keona's voice was hollow. "It wasn't just fainting. I saw something… wolves made of silver. And blood. So much blood."
Before Nyra could answer, the door creaked open. Elder Elandra Greymane entered unannounced, her cloak heavy with night air. Her pale eyes gleamed with something between fear and wonder.
"You saw them," Elandra murmured. "The Silvertails."
Keona's head snapped up. "You… know what they are?"
Nyra bristled. "You could've explained this before the entire pack decided to call her cursed."
The elder ignored the barb. She lowered herself opposite Keona and took her hands, her touch trembling. "The Silvertails were once the guardians of balance between life and death, moon and blood. Their power was… absolute. Too absolute. They were feared, hunted to extinction. Or so we thought."
Keona's throat tightened. "And you think… I'm one of them?"
"I do not think." Elandra's gaze pierced hers. "I know. I have seen the markings in your aura since you were a child. The reason you cannot shift is not because you are weak. It is because your wolf is not ordinary. It is bound, waiting for a trigger only fate can decide."
The words struck Keona like lightning. Her wolf… bound? Not absent, not broken. Waiting.
Nyra exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and rage. "So all this time she's been humiliated, mocked, rejected—because no one had the courage to speak the truth?"
Elandra's expression narrowed with guilt. "The truth is dangerous. If Selene or her ilk believed it, Keona would be dead before sunrise. The Silvertails were wiped out for a reason."
Keona's heart pounded, but before she could question further, a shadow moved outside the door.
—————
Kalethorn leaned against the outer wall, chest heaving. He had not meant to eavesdrop, but when he saw Elandra slip inside, instinct dragged him closer. Every word cut deeper than claws.
A bound wolf. A silvertail.
And he had rejected her. Publicly. Brutally.
His mind whirled with the memory of silver light flashing in the night when the dreadwolves attacked. He had buried it under Selene's whispers, under the council's divisions, but now… now he could not.
For the first time since his rejection, certainty faltered.
He barely made it back to his quarters before Selene emerged from the shadows, wrapped in red silk, eyes twinkling like knives.
"You look troubled, beloved." Her voice was honey, her smile mean. "Did the cursed girl's fainting fit disturb you so?"
Kalethorn stiffened. "Do not call her that."
Selene tilted her head, feigning hurt. "Forgive me. I only speak what the pack already whispers. You heard them tonight. They are frightened, divided. They need strength, not hesitation." She moved closer, resting a hand on his arm. "And you cannot falter now. Not when the Blood Moon throne nears its choosing."
He said nothing, jaw tight.
Selene's gaze sharpened, catching the flicker of doubt in his eyes. She pressed harder. "Or… perhaps your heart still toys with pity for her? The girl who cannot even shift? The one who would drag your throne into ruin with her curse?"
Kalethorn flinched, though he masked it. Selene's lips curled in satisfaction.
"Then you must silence them all." Her voice dropped, low and commanding. "Prove to the pack, to the council, to the gods themselves, where your loyalty lies. Declare me your Luna again before them, publicly, tomorrow. End this talk of visions and curses. Crush the girl's pitiful hopes before they spread like a plague."
Kalethorn's fists clenched. Images of silver wolves and blood-soaked thrones twisted in his mind, tangled with Keona's wide, wounded eyes and the way her voice used to tremble when she tried to stand tall.
He could not breathe.
Selene leaned in, whispering against his ear, each word a dagger:
"Choose me now, Kalethorn Fenrow. Or lose everything."
Kalethorn's silence stretched into the dark, and Selene smiled like a victor who already knew the answer.