A hum ripples through the crowd, and torches flare as if on cue.
Izel steps forward first, her pale gown trailing behind her over the marble of the arena. She bows her head slightly to the High Council, then flashes me a sweet, poisonous smile. “May the Moon favor the worthy,” she says.
“May she burn the false,” I reply coldly.
???
A carved stone table waits in the center; placed atop it are three bowls containing salt, blood, and moonwater.
A younger councilwoman, Esme, with short-cropped blonde hair, steps forward. “A Luna must know balance. Tell us which sustains the pack.”
Izel answers eagerly. “Blood, of course. Without it, there is no life.”
Esme gestures for me.
I study the bowls, then finally speak calmly, “Blood gives strength, but salt preserves it. Water heals it. None sustain the pack alone. Balance does.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd. Esme’s lips twitch. “Correct. Luna Freya claims the first mark.”
I sigh with relief.
Esme raises her hand again. “Second question. A Luna must know her people’s hearts.” She turns, her tone shifting to one of quiet challenge. “What breaks a pack fastest: hunger, war, or silence?”
Izel answers smoothly. “War. Wolves die in war. That’s the end of all bonds.”
Esme nods, then looks to me.
“Silence,” I say. “Hunger and war can be endured together. But silence between wolves kills slowly—it makes them strangers. And a pack of strangers cannot survive.”
A low rumble of approval from the crowd follows. Esme marks another symbol on the stone. “Freya Vale-Thorne claims the second mark.”
My eyes instinctively explore in search of Rowan and find him soon enough. There’s a smile on his face, which encourages me further.
“Last question,” she says. “A Luna must know herself. Answer this: when the Moon hides her face, what remains to guide the pack?”
Izel tilts her chin proudly. “The stars,” she says. “Even when the Moon fades, her children remain to light our path.”
Esme turns to me.
“The howl,” I reply softly. “It’s the call that binds us. When the Moon is gone, we guide each other home.”
The elder frowns. “A fine sentiment, but wrong.”
My heart stumbles.
She gestures to Izel. “The stars are the Moon’s promise. Her light endures through them.”
Applause follows, thin, but enough for Izel to bow with smug grace.
Esme nods. “One mark to Izel. Two to Luna Freya. Wisdom round complete.”
Izel leans close as we pass each other. “Even the Moon doesn’t favor you always.”
I ignore her.
???
For the ferocity round, two warriors step forward from each pack to form a ring. The scent of sweat and dust fills the arena.
