They lit the warning braziers at dawn.
Four were ablaze at the edges of the Crescent Moon courtyard, each one a time-honored signal of a Council call announced to the world. Not a whisper. Not hidden.
A warning to all the pack.
Selene watched from her window as the flames leaped into existence. The smoke rose, pale gray against a cold sky.
It was official at last.
She wasn't just being called.
She was being indicted.
To her back, leaning over the table, gathering paperwork they would have ready for use at the hearing, Elara. Witness depositions. Council edicts. Ancient prophecies. Sealed execution writ remained locked within its rune-coffer—pending.
"They're already gathering," Elara reported to her, her voice tight. "The hearing will be held under open law. Not just Elders. Warriors. Spectators. Any wolf that hungers for blood or responds will be there."
Selene did not hesitate. "Good."
Elara took a step closer. "Have you decided? Are you going to read the order?"
Selene did not answer immediately. Her eyes traced the smoke as it roiled like a threat into the air.
I want justice," she said to him. "But I want control."
Elara raised an eyebrow. "You can't have both."
"I know," Selene said, smiling. "So I'm going to make them believe they're getting one—and take the other for myself."
Elara's jaw fell a little. "You're bluffing?
"I'm going to remind them that I no longer belong in their cage," Selene said to herself. "I don't need them to believe me now. I just need them to be afraid of me long enough. to make a mistake."
She walked to the far end of the room and placed her hand on top of the seal that guarded the rune chest.
And left the scroll sealed up.
For now.
The Crescent Moon Hall buzzed with activity.
Council attendants arranged benches, runners carried parchment, and enforcers stood in tight ranks beneath the ceremonial arch. The trial hadn't even begun, but the spectacle already had.
And at its center, Luna Adrienne moved like a queen about to be crowned.
Wrapped in silver and icy blue, she received wolves with warmth less than a breath from the truth. Smiled at the warriors. Whispered to the elders.
And whenever she said the name of Selene, just enough uncertainty, just enough poison, to sow fear.
"Of course, we're all concerned. Resurrection makes you hesitate, doesn't it?"
"She's not your Selene. She's not the same. She's cold."
No, no—I would never describe her as unstable. But grief does odd things. Death, more than that.
Each word was measured. Carved. Spoken with the soft dishonesty of one pretending concern.
She didn't have to say outright that Selene was mad.
She merely had to taint the air before Selene had ever entered it.
Elder Morwen appeared at her elbow at the base of the dais, his face a granite mask.
"She's not responding," Adrienne whispered.
"She will," Morwen replied. "But when she does, she'll overextend. And then we cut the root."
Adrienne's smile turned glassy.
"Do you think Kael will defend her?"
Morwen's gaze didn't shift. "No. But he might try to intervene."
Adrienne hummed, smoothing her sleeves. "Let him try."
Down the hall, Kael materialized—face dark, steps slow. He said nothing to Adrienne. Didn't glance at her.
He was looking at the door.
Waiting.
Adrienne's smile didn't waver.
But in her eyes, a fire smoldered like smoke beneath the silk.
If Selene wanted to live in Survivor?
Adrienne would be the first to remind everyone who had triumphed.
The Council Hall doors groaned open, and silence rippled through the throng like a shiver.
Selene walked through it.
No guards behind her. No advisors on her shoulder. No Kael. No Lucian. Just her.
She had profound onyx bordered with obsidian-strung silver about her neck—a reflection of grief but sullied by the poise of command. One strand of her hair was swept down her back, pulled close and deliberate. Not a hair is out of place.
She glided with the floor belonging to her to command.
Though the wolves that gathered were there not to convict her—but to behold her.
The benches were crowded with spectators: warriors, lower alphas, court scribes, and curious nobles from neighboring packs. Some leaned forward. Others stared openly. But nobody dared to speak.
Selene kept everyone's eyes away.
Until she saw Adrienne.
The Luna sat near the center, flanked by enforcers, playing the part of royal concern. But Selene saw the tension in her shoulders. The forced softness in her face.
Good.
Before the gathering, Elder Morwen wore formal ceremonial robes, his hands folded on his ornate staff. His expression was stone—yet his eyes traced Selene with glacial surety.
"You stand before the Council of Northern Blood," he asserted. "In your hand, you've summoned doubt. According to the laws of the realm, you are now free to speak. Before judgment begins."
Selene stepped into the ring of light at the hall's center.
She turned once—slowly—so every wolf, every elder, every whisperer who had spoken of her death and resurrection could see her.
Then she raised her chin and said clearly:
"I have not come here to defend myself."
A hush fell so thick the air nearly stopped.
"I've come to remind you—what happens when wolves bite at the throat of the wrong she-wolf."
And someone in the back of the room let out a swift, audible gasp.
Selene smiled.
Let the hearing take place.
Kael did not sit among the Council.
He stood at the farthest point in the hall, against the cold stone pillar, half-shrouded in darkness. It was the only way he might even be able to bear being here—not as Alpha, not as a judge.
Just. a man watching the ghost he had helped bury become something immortal.
When Selene arrived, the mood shifted.
It wasn't her loveliness. That had never been there.
It was her presence. Unshakable. Persistent. Like the center of a hurricane that didn't need thunder to destroy. And when she spoke—infirm, unafraid—he felt every syllable hit something open in his chest.
Not fear.
Not pride.
Loss.
Not the one that happens from death.
The kind that comes when you realize what you thought you had never actually had.
"She's going to burn them," Rowan whispered against him, his voice husky.
Kael didn't answer.
Because he had no idea what terrified him more—that Selene would destroy the Council.
Or that she might want to do more than that.
His fists curled up as he watched her step into position in the center of the room.
They would come for her. With protocol. With law. With poison on smiles.
And if she complained too early if she pushed too hard—
They'd call for blood again.
They'd kill her.
And Kael didn't know what he'd do if they did.
Not anymore.