POV: Tristan
I stood on the High Podium, the wind whipping my silver-trimmed cloak around my boots like a storm cloud. Below me, the Great Court was a sea of upturned faces—the warriors, the elders, and the common pack members gathered in a heavy, expectant silence. The scent of woodsmoke and damp earth was thick in the air, but beneath it all was the electric hum of the bond.
Rena stood five paces behind me. She was dressed in deep charcoal velvet, her hair braided with silver wire, her chin held high despite the weight of the judgment aimed at her. She wasn't an Omega today. She was a witness to the death of the old ways.
Beside my father sat Nora, draped in the silks of a Beta-consort, her neck arched to display her high-blood lineage. She looked triumphant, as if the Council’s press
