The sun had not yet fully pierced the mist when the Wolves of the Day intoned the first chant of morning. Their voices echoed between the golden stone columns of the Solar Hall, a living temple raised at the heart of the Morning Sun pack. There, every stone had been consecrated to the Sun God, and every Alpha learned from their first howl that light, too, could burn.
Elizabeth walked in silence.
At twenty-one years of age, she carried on her shoulders more than the weight of the ceremonial white mantle. She was the designated Luna, the mate chosen by ancient rites for the Alpha of that pack. An only daughter. A pure-blood heir. A political bond holding seven territories in a fragile balance.
Her wolf moved beneath her skin with restrained unease. White fur, symbol of the Moon Goddess, had never allowed her to go unnoticed. The black half-moon marked upon her forehead was more than a divine sign; it was a constant reminder that she did not belong solely to herself.
She belonged to the Moon.
She belonged to the pact.
She belonged to the future.
The Alpha walked several steps ahead, surrounded by advisors and warriors. Tall, impeccably composed, he exuded the authority of one who had never needed to fight for space. The sun itself seemed to obey the line of his shoulders, reflecting off pale hair and vigilant eyes that never lingered on her long enough.
There was always something.
Or someone.
Dandara.
The blonde she-wolf walked at his side with the ease of someone never questioned. Fragile in the eyes of others, delicate in speech, always wrapped in pale fabrics that reinforced an image of purity. A protected one. A sister. So they said.
Elizabeth watched. She always watched.
Theodor, Alpha in his own right and longtime ally of the Morning Sun, remained close to Dandara like a vigilant shadow. Intelligent, strategic, respected. A man who knew the intrigues of the packs like few others, yet seemed incapable of seeing the fractures opening directly before him.
Every desire of Dandara was met.
Every whim justified.
Every excess softened with sweet words and indulgent smiles.
And every silence of Elizabeth was interpreted as submission.
She had learned early that a Luna does not roar without purpose.
The Solar Council awaited, assembled, when the group entered the main hall. Elders with graying pelts, warriors marked by ancient scars, representatives of allied packs. All rose in respect. Not for the Alpha. For her.
Daughter of Samael Lupus.
The name echoed even when unspoken. The Alpha of the Midnight Sun. Ruler of the Lunar Mountain and the Crystal Moon Valley. A pure-blood lycan whose mere signature on a treaty was enough to end wars before they began.
Elizabeth felt the weight of that legacy as she took her place at the center of the hall.
The Coronation Ball would take place that night. The ceremony that would officially crown her Luna of the Morning Sun, sealing the most coveted alliance among the packs. The ceremonial gown had been woven with lunar threads, kept under constant guard since the previous full moon.
Nothing could go wrong.
That was when the murmur began.
Subtle. Growing. Like claws brushing against stone.
Elizabeth lifted her gaze at the exact moment the doors opened once more.
Dandara entered.
She wore white.
Not just any white. Lunar white. The precise cut reserved for the crowned Luna. Fabric that reflected light like living silver. A symbol that did not belong to her.
Silence fell, heavy.
Some looked away. Others whispered without shame. Eyes laden with insinuation swept the hall, leaping between the Alpha and his protected one with cruelty disguised as curiosity.
Elizabeth did not move.
She felt the wolf within her growl low, ancient, primal. The bond with the Moon pulsed, cold and sharp, reminding her who she was. Where she came from. What she was capable of.
The Council reacted too quickly. Conciliatory words. Attempts to minimize the impact.
"An error in judgment."
"An unfortunate confusion."
"Nothing that stains the honor of the future Luna."
But honor was not something cleansed with speeches.
Theodor remained motionless. His gaze wavered between Dandara and Elizabeth, as though trying to fit pieces that refused to form a clear image. He saw a friend. A protected one. Perhaps he saw only what he wished to see.
Or perhaps he chose not to see at all.
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly in respect to the Council. No words. No outburst. Only the dangerous stillness of one who had not yet decided how to punish an affront.
The Moon does not rush.
She waits.
And when she decides to act, no one escapes her shadow.
— Alpha, explain yourself. Why does your childhood friend wear a fabric crafted for the body of the Daughter of the Moon?
The voice belonged to none other than the elder of House Zarius, descendants of the healers.
Her cold blue eyes shifted between Elizabeth, who moved to her rightful seat, the white oak chair at the center of the main table. Beside it, the Alpha's chair remained empty.
— I expect a justification that is plausible, Alpha Theodor, for this direct insult to the Lycan King!
Another voice rose, that of the temple priest, a dark-furred man with a sharp gaze. Everyone knew he did not favor the future Luna, which made his defense all the more surprising.
— Alpha, as the priest present on the day the two of you were bound, I have the right to know why an omega wears the garments of the future Luna. You are aware the penalty for such an offense is fifty lashes with silver-threaded whips to the soles of the feet, followed by the ingestion of lavender infused with silver powder!
He warned, invoking the authority of the temple, his eyes briefly flicking to Elizabeth, who rested her chin in her palm, observing everything in silence that was far too calm.
All had witnessed the excitement of the future Luna hours earlier, or rather, days ago, when preparations for the celebration began. In place of smiles and the scent of jasmine and mint, the aura of Safira's wolf now emanated from the young woman, heavy enough to suffocate the smaller wolves.
Elizabeth remained seated, watching the chaos. Her father had yet to arrive. The Midnight Sun caravan was still delayed, held back by the storms in the snowy hills of Solari.
— The fabric does not suit you, Dandara.
She spoke at last. Not loud. Not soft. Flat, direct. Yet the gentle timbre remained.
— Earlier today, I sent you medicine, as you were feeling unwell.
She noted something simple. Something domestic.
— A fusion of lunar herbs. I was concerned for your health. As Theodor's childhood friend, I assumed caring for you would please my "future" Alpha.
She crossed her legs, a movement that made several wolves futilely wish to be the wolf of that she-wolf.
— So, of course, I wished to accommodate every request. I sent fine fabrics in light tones, as you prefer. Yet you chose to wear the dress woven by the seamstresses of my people. Something crafted exclusively for me.
She concluded.
— Regardless of who committed the error, or to whom it is attributed, I believe it may be necessary to determine why the fabric bears a silver hue rather than the pearlescent white it should… before my father's caravan arrives, bringing with him the inevitable incomprehension of seeing his daughter publicly humiliated because the beloved friend of my fiancé decided she "wanted to look" beautiful and presentable for the ceremony.
She remained seated, her gaze lingering on the gown Dandara now subtly rejected, for it was not the pearlescent white, nearly blue-white, it should have been.