The Great Hall of the Moon Keep had not echoed with so many voices in over a century.
Alpha lords and ladies from every major pack filed in—each wearing their colors, their crests, their histories. The obsidian floors gleamed beneath ceremonial wolf sigils carved in silver. Flames flickered from suspended lanterns, casting long shadows as the chamber filled with tension and pride.
Selene sat on the High Seat of Stone and Flame, the Queen's throne. The Moon Tree's roots still pulsed beneath the keep, fueling her strength and enhancing her clarity. Moonfire rested at her side, a silent promise of what she had survived—and what she would fight for again.
At her right stood Saria, cloaked in moon-white. At her left, Kael, holding the scrolls of alliance. Behind her, Jace stood as her sworn protector, expression unreadable but presence sharp as ever.
She lifted her hand.
Silence.
"I have called you all here," Selene said, her voice carrying through the stone like a rising storm, "not for war—but for survival."
Whispers immediately broke out. Murmurs of fear. Disbelief. Denial.
"We've won, haven't we?" said Alpha Morrik of the Greytooth. "Damien was defeated. Ironclaw has fallen. The Voidfang cult is scattered."
"Those were symptoms," Selene replied. "The disease still breathes."
She gestured to Kael, who stepped forward and unrolled a map over the central table—marked with glowing runes.
"These points," he said, tapping various symbols across the continent, "are recent void readings. Energy traces that shouldn't exist."
"Remnants?" asked Lady Veila of the Windbone Pack.
"No," Kael said gravely. "These are movements."
Selene stood. "Something ancient stirs beneath our world. Something that used Damien as a door. If we don't act, it will find another."
A silence swept the hall, heavier than before.
Then came the voice no one expected.
"Elira Vexen," someone hissed.
A sharp clatter rang as Alpha Orlin of the Ashfang Pack pointed across the room. "Why is she here?"
Gasps echoed. The crowd parted.
Elira stepped into view from the shadows, calm and composed, dressed not in Voidfang black, but in the pale steel and midnight cloak of the Queen's court.
"She was Damien's second," Orlin barked. "She led raids against three of our outposts. She bled our warriors. She should hang, not stand beside the Queen!"
Selene rose to her full height, silver eyes gleaming.
"Elira stands here because I commanded it. She has renounced the void and serves as our key to understanding what we face. Without her knowledge, I would not have returned from the Wastes alive."
"But can she be trusted?" demanded another Alpha.
Elira met their stares without flinching.
"No," she said. "You shouldn't trust me. Not yet. But ask yourselves—who among you knew Damien was consorting with darkness? Who stood idle while whispers spread like wildfire in the borderlands?"
That struck a chord.
The Alphas began looking at one another.
Selene let the silence sharpen.
"We must stop seeking enemies among ourselves," she said. "If you doubt Elira's loyalty, watch her. But understand this—she has more insight into our enemy than any living soul. And I do not discard weapons in a war I haven't yet won."
Jace stepped forward. "We're not asking for blind trust. Just a united front. You saw what the last division cost us."
Slowly, reluctantly, the room settled.
Selene raised her hand.
"We will form a special watch—The Lunar Guard. Hand-selected warriors, scouts, and seers from each pack. Their mission: to hunt down every void remnant, every cult survivor, every cursed relic. No more waiting. No more ignoring signs."
A rumble of agreement moved through the crowd.
"And if we refuse?" asked Morrik quietly.
Selene stepped from the dais and approached the center of the room, her voice a blade.
"Then when the abyss comes again, and your pack burns… know that it was your pride that fed it."
The Greytooth Alpha said no more.
Later that evening, as the hall emptied, Jace found Selene in the Queen's garden, gazing up at the crescent moon.
"Was that a threat?" he asked with a smirk.
"No," she said softly. "It was a warning."
He studied her. "You've changed."
She turned to him. "Power changes everyone."
"But it hasn't corrupted you," he said. "That's what makes you dangerous—to them, and to the darkness."
She smiled faintly. "Let them fear me. As long as they fight beside me."
Elsewhere, in the dungeons beneath the Moon Keep, a lone figure moved through the shadows.
A guard lay slumped by the wall, unconscious.
The figure crept to the sealed vault where void relics were stored—etched with moonlight protection spells.
And slowly, silently…
He whispered a phrase in a forgotten tongue.
The seal cracked.
The shadows smiled.