The light did not fade when the gavel struck.
It deepened.
Amelia felt it first in her bones—a low, resonant hum that bypassed sound entirely and settled into her chest. The symbols etched into the stone floor brightened, their lines threading together until the circle beneath her and Ethan’s feet glowed like a living sigil. The mountain’s presence pressed closer, vast and attentive, as though the Crest itself had leaned down to study them.
Around the amphitheater, the wolves fell silent.
No whispers. No movement. Even the torches seemed to still, their flames frozen mid-flicker.
“Stand,” Councilor Halvar commanded.
They already were.
Ethan didn’t tighten his grip on Amelia’s hand. He didn’t need to. The bond between them was steady now—anchored, unmistakable. Whatever the Crest was
