The Great Hall was silent enough to hear a pin drop, but the air was screaming. It was thick with the scent of wolfsbane—a sharp, metallic smell that made the warriors at the front tables pull back instinctively.
In the center of the hall, on a pedestal of black obsidian, sat a silver chalice. It was filled with a shimmering, violet liquid that looked like crushed amethysts and liquid death.
The Council of Elders sat behind the pedestal, their faces like stone masks. Alpha Thorne stood up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before settling on me. "Elara of the Silver Moon, you stand before the heart of the Black Ridge. To be a Luna is to be the soul of the pack. If your blood is pure, the moon will protect you. If you are a fraud, the mountain will reclaim you."
I felt Silas’s hand tighte
