The winds of the North howled, but beneath them rose a steady, thunderous beat.
For the first time in the history of the Nightfog Pack, the drums of coronation echoed not for a king, but for a queen.
“Alpha Ivy Nightfang,” the high priest called from the silver altar of the Moon Temple. “You come bearing memory and blood, life and fire.”
“Do you swear, by soul and spirit, to serve the pack—not power?”
I stood at the heart of the sacred circle, cloak stitched with the bones of fallen Alphas, my son, Noah, nestled in my arms.
“I do,” I answered.
The drums fell silent.
The stones beneath my feet began to glow, ancient symbols illuminating across the floor. The Moon’s light crowned me—not by inheritance, not by mate—but by battle, by sacrifice, by choice.
I was the first Alpha to bear
