Freya
It takes us two days to arrive at our destination.
The path to the Blood Moon Conclave winds through silver pines and pale mist. The moon is already high, swollen and red, painting the world in shades of blood and frost.
The clearing opens like an ancient amphitheatre, carved by wolves long before kingdoms were named. Rows of stone seats rise in a wide circle around a marble arena, enough to hold thousands. Fires burn in iron braziers along the rim, throwing restless shadows on faces and furs.
Five large banners ripple in the wind—five great packs of the continent.
Ravencourt, known for its seers. Ironfang, their warriors in onyx armor. Stormfell, the northern pack bound by ice and sea. And Nightfell, the rogue kingdom reborn under Rowan’s rule.
At the far end stands Silvercrest, once the strongest, now broken. Beneath us are the smaller packs with two hundred members or fewer.
Kade walks ahead of me, his cloak dragging through wet earth. We’re expected to appear side by side, Alpha and Luna—the perfect illusion of unity. But I keep my distance, just enough that our shadows don’t touch.
Jax marches behind us with other Beta commanders, and Tamsin follows with Finn, who is clutching her hand tightly. Ivy’s scooped up in my arms. I didn’t want to bring them here. But the Blood Moon Conclave is no ordinary gathering. It’s law, older than kings, older than the packs themselves. Even children of Alphas must bear witness.
We take our seats in the Silvercrest row. The murmurs hush when the drums begin to sound—low and rhythmic, like the pulse at the very heart of our world.
Across the circle, I see him.
Rowan.
He sits among the wolves of Nightfell, their cloaks black as a moonless night. He is quiet, but when his gaze meets mine, he gives a small nod. My heart stumbles in my chest.
Kade notices the look but says nothing. His eyes are locked on the center of the arena where the High Council begins to form a line.
Nine figures in gray robes emerge from the shadows, the blood moon catching on the silver embroidery at their sleeves. At their head—Elder Thane.
Kade’s hands clench into fists. “He dares show his face.”
Thane vanished after Izel disappeared, and now he stands as if nothing happened—calm, smirking, the blood moon gleaming on his silver hair.
A shiver crawls up my spine as I study the faces of the council members. The High Council hasn’t come to preside. They’ve come to end something.
They may have failed to turn Silvercrest and Nightfell against each other, but they won’t let me ascend. A High Luna’s word overrides theirs. If I claim the Moon Goddess’s blessing under this sky, I’ll have authority even they can’t touch. This hasn’t happened for the last three centuries, ever since the first High Council was established.
The rituals begin the way they always do. The council elder in the middle raises his arms. “Brothers and sisters of the Moon, we gather under her blood to recall, to judge, to renew.”
A chant follows, made up of old words that are no longer used in daily life. Then come the greetings, the rehearsed kindnesses between Alphas and Lunas. Then the recollections.
“The Silver Severance,” one elder proclaims. “Last Conclave, Luna Seysha of Frostmark attempted the ritual to sever herself from her mate. She failed. Her wolf perished. She died at dawn.”
The words are emphasised, and I know they’re meant for me as a warning. All they do is make me sit straighter, hardening my resolve.
Another elder continues. “And the Alpha Brothers of Shadowpine—both killed each other for dominion. The pack left leaderless until the High Council, through the Goddess’s mercy, raised the Beta to Alpha rank.”
Finn hides his face in my sleeve. Ivy buries herself in my lap.
Tamsin leans close, whispering, “Remember your training. Hold steady. Eyes forward. After all the petitions are heard, you can go ahead and claim Severance.”
Jax assures me, “Remember your strength, sister. You shall succeed.”
I nod faintly. My palms are slick.
Petitions follow—territory disputes, blood feuds, stolen heirs. One is solved with a duel. Another with an execution. I cover Ivy’s eyes. Finn presses his face into my shoulder again.
Brin shakes his head beside me. “Children shouldn’t see this,” he mutters.
