Lucy walked slowly down the center aisle of the Great Hall with close to a thousand pairs of eyes on her. She carried the new silver dagger on a swath of white silk in place of flowers. A Luna did not walk with attendants and feminine frills. Rather, she carried herself to her Alpha with the confidence of a warrior marching into battle; armored in lace and taffeta, using blush and eyeliner as battle paint.
Carolina jasmine draped down the walls of the Great Hall, flanked by hurricane lamps that lit her pathway in a soft golden glow that created a halo around her similarly golden hair. Sweet Afton instrumental played from an unseen source as she glided along. The guests did not stand as one might for a bride, but rather remained sitting, heads bowed in respect of one so far above them.
Sa
