The courtyard filled before dawn.
Not summoned by bell.
Not commanded by horn.
But drawn—
By instinct.
Word had traveled faster than discipline.
Bond shock.
Sigil flare.
Threshold stirring.
And now—
Decision.
Elara stood at the edge of the assembly, still pale, still steady only because she refused to sway again. The burn beneath her ribs had quieted, but not disappeared. It lingered like a bruise no one else could see.
Ugh.
She hated that they were all watching.
Every hunter.
Every elder.
Every whispering pair who had debated whether she was mate, weapon, weakness—or curse.
Serena stood to the right of the council steps. Luca to the left. The elders in a silent half-circle.
And Alessandro—
At the center.
Unmoving.
Controlled.
But not distant.
The Silence Before Declaration
The wind moved through the courtyard like a warning.
Somewhere beyond the forest, a low howl carried.
Whooooo—
Not attack.
Not yet.
Recognition.
