The ballroom felt like it had swallowed the night sky whole.
Silver Ridge didn’t do “subtle,” but tonight they’d abandoned the concept entirely. The vaulted ceiling shimmered with charmed starlight, the runes etched into the beams glowing like constellations caught mid-pulse. Crystal chandeliers dripped from above, prisming light across the marble until the whole place looked suspended between worlds—half ceremony, half battlefield.
Velvet banners hung heavy from the walls, each stitched with the Caine crest—a wolf encircled by stormlight. A reminder. Territory claimed. Hierarchy enforced.
The banquet tables had been shoved to the edges to make room for a central dance floor, lanterns lining the perimeter, their carved sigils flickering in steady rhythm. Wards hummed under everything—th
