The Frostfang territory glittered under a blanket of fresh moonlight, the ancient pines standing sentinel around the ceremonial grounds like big giants. Massive floodlights illuminated the sacred Moon Circle, podium within a vast clearing carved into the mountain valley where the pack had gathered for generations. The space was a open-air stadium, its tiers filled with spectators.
Tonight, the lights weren't just for tradition. They were for the cameras.
"—coming to you live from the Frostfang ancestral grounds, where we're about to witness, what many calls the social event of the season—"
The reporter's voice carried across the packed crowd, her perfectly styled hair barely stirring in the mountain wind. Behind her, a cameraman adjusted his equipment while a drone buzzed overhead, capturing aerial footage for the broadcast. Three major networks had set up stations around the perimeter, their satellite trucks parked neatly along the access road.
"That's Vanessa Chen from Wolf Watch Tonight," someone murmured nearby. "They're broadcasting to fifteen territories."
"I heard International Shifter News is streaming it globally."
Adele de Frostfang stood at the edge of the antechamber, one hand holding the other, overlooking the stadium, watching the spectacle unfold on the wall-mounted screen with the detached calm that had long become her armor. She had, for a moment completely forgotten that she wasn't alone.
Because of the ceremony, Adele was dressed as traditions demanded of her. The gown she wore was simple and snow-colored, cut with a square neckline and long sleeves that concealed most of her skin except her hands and her face. She had chosen it for the very purpose of disappearing into the background. There were no jewels at her throat, at her wrists, or in her hair. She wore no makeup as she never had and her face remained bare beneath the lights.
Her long silver hair, was pulled back into a neat, practical braid that rested against her spine.
From the screen her blue eyes could see moonlit decorations and wolves pressed close, their excitement palpable. Every pack held its own coming-of-age ceremony, and such events were always a draw, but this year was different. This year, the second princess of Frostfangs' is coming of age.
The antechamber doors to the stadium swung open, unleashing a barrage of camera flashes and blinding lights. The sudden noise and attention washed over her all at once, and Adele knew, it was time to step out.
"There she is!" A female voice squealed from somewhere in the mass of bodies. "Oh my goddess, she's beautiful!"
Adele didn't need to look to know they meant Lyra. Her younger sister had that effect on people.
She is a bueaty, no one can deny that.
The crowd erupted as the royal family made their entrance. Alpha Magnus de Frostfang walked at the center—tall, broad-shouldered, the ruler of Frostfang pack. His dark brown hair was threaded with iron gray, and he wore the traditional ceremonial furs of House Frostfang: black leather reinforced with wolf fur at the shoulders.
To his right moved the future Alpha of Frostfang—his eldest son. He shared his father's height and strength. He wore the same blend of leather and fur.
And between them, held firmly by both their hands, radiant in white and gold, was Lyra. Embellished beautifully for the ceremony, her brown shiny proud wolf hair cascaded down in waves, barely turned eighteen, her fresh face glowed with anticipation.
The cameras swiveled toward them immediately, flashes erupting like stars.
"Princess Lyra!" A reporter thrust a microphone forward, before they could reach the podium, barely restrained by security. "How are you feeling tonight? Nervous?"
Lyra laughed in a sound like bells. "I am excited! I've been dreaming of this moment my whole life."
"Any predictions on who your mate might be?"
"The Moon Goddess will decide." Lyra's smile was camera-perfect. "I trust her completely."
More questions flew at her, but the family was already moving past, heading toward the raised platform at the centre where the pack elders waited. Adele followed, with a careful distance behind them, as she always did. Close enough to be included in official procession, but far enough to avoid comparison.
All the expected mates stood scattered across the grounds. The elders were calling the shewolves forward one by one for their ceremonies.
"Is that the older sister?" someone whispered.
"Yeah.....even her dress is paler than her sister's—Charmless!"
"Shh."
But the damage was done. Adele's sensitive hearing caught every word. She quickly lowered her head to avoid their gazes while walking, but she told herself that she was okay. Given most days, she was either in simple tees or in hospital gowns.
"She's… the elder one, right? Is she still without a mate?"
"Can't you see her markless neck, bare and white?"
"Four years and still nothing."
"How can this be possible? Even beta royal shewolves' find their mates by now."
"Maybe the Moon Goddess skipped her."
"That doesn't happen—"
"Well, it happened to her, didn't it?" and the woman clicked her tongue irritably.
Adele's expression didn't change. She'd perfected the art of selective deafness years ago.
The ceremony began with the traditional blessings of Elders. Elder Moira, raised her staff toward the full moon hanging fat and silver in the sky.
Adele, fighting a slight fever also looked up at the full moon with her solemn expressions. She never liked the full moon.
"We gather under the Goddess's light," said Elder Moira, her voice cracked across the stadium, amplified by strategically placed speakers, "to witness the awakening of bonds, the joining of souls, the continuation of our sacred bloodline."
The crowd murmured their assent.
After few more events came Lyra's turn "Tonight, Lyra de Frostfang, second royal daughter of the Frostfang Pack, comes before the Moon Circle to claim her destiny." recited the Elder.
The cameras zoomed in as Lyra stepped forward, her white and golden dress seeming to glow in the full moon light. She walked with confidence and with no trace of the nerves she'd claimed to feel, finally, she took her place in the center of the ancient stone circle. She is a complete opposite of what Adele was.
The elder continued, "By the power of the Goddess, by the call of the moon, let the bond be revealed." Silence fell all over the stadium.
Adele watched from her place beside the platform, behind her father and brother, her hands clasped loosely in front of her.
She'd stood in that same circular podium four years ago, hoping for happy changes to come, where the moon goddess would finally show her mercy by revealing her mate. She remembered the weight of expectation, the certainty that something will happen, the absolute conviction that her mate is out there, waiting, feeling the same pull-- but nothing had pulled, nothing had ignited for her that night. No surge of warmth. No instinct whispered that her other half was near.
The full moon had hung silent and indifferent above her, that night, and she'd stood alone in the circle for the required fifteen minutes while the crowd shifted uncomfortably and her father's jaw had grown tighter with each passing second.
And the only thing that stirred in her body now was disappointment… shame… a gnawing sense of failure she could never shake in this lifetime, perhaps.
But for Lyra, the change was immediate.
Lyra gasped, her hand flying to her chest. Her eyes went wide, with pupils dilating, and a flush crept up her neck. The bond. Adele recognized it even though she'd never felt it herself. That sudden, overwhelming certainty. The knowing, that rushes over you.
"Yes," Lyra breathed, tilting her head up toward the moon: "Yes!" she said louder.
Then the howl that tore from her throat was pure, primal, and perfect. It echoed across the mountains, carrying through the valley below, and the crowd held its breath waiting for the answer, every pair of eyes looked onto her.
And her answer came within seconds.
From the high noble section on the ground, where the wolves of status stood closest to the circle, a male's howl rose to meet Lyra's. The sound was strong, confident and claiming.
"Who is it?" someone hissed.
"Can you see—"
"There!"
A young man stepped forward, pushing through the crowd with single-minded purpose. He was handsome red hair, strong features, with the build of a warrior. Adele didn't know him, she knew only a few faces even within her own pack. He was Castor Ivor, son of Lord Ivor and a alpha, one of the wealthiest noble houses in the pack.
Perfect. Of course!
Castor reached the circle and stepped inside without hesitation. The moment his feet crossed the podium's edge, the bond must have solidified because both he and Lyra moved as if pulled by invisible strings. They met in the center, his hands cupping her face, her fingers gripping his arms.
"Mine," he said, voice rough with wonder.
"Yours," Lyra agreed, and then they were kissing, and the crowd was roaring its approval, and the cameras were going wild trying to capture every angle.