Cierra:
The council hall smelled of smoke and cedar oil — the scent of old power, of oaths sworn and broken in the same breath.
Every elder’s gaze burned into me as I walked the length of the stone floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat under my ribs. The walls seemed to hum with it — the ghosts of those who had come before, watching to see if I would falter.
But I didn’t.
Not this time.
Dominic moved beside me, his stride slow, deliberate — protective but never overshadowing. His presence was a tether, his silence speaking louder than any declaration. The gold at his throat caught the light, a faint reflection of the authority he carried. But today, all eyes weren’t on him.
They were on me.
Beta’s daughter. The blood they’d tried to bury.
At the far end of the hall, Elder Rowan
