The central court chambers of Moonrise buzzed with an anxious energy as the Ash Pack’s delegation arrived. Flags bearing the Ash sigil—black wolf on a field of smoldering grey—hung limp against the stone pillars, barely stirring despite the wind creeping through the high slotted windows. Courtiers, healers, warriors, and apprentices lined the perimeter, their eyes sharp, their voices low. They all knew that today wasn’t just a day for diplomacy, but a day of reckoning. The air crackled with the weight of old rivalries and the potential for new alliances—or fresh wounds.
Aria stood beside Xander at the front of the hall, her hand resting lightly on the curve of her belly. She wore Luna’s circlet, but kept her presence otherwise unadorned, her posture proud but humble. The ache from the rec
