Weeks passed under pale moons as Broken Fang Ridge healed. Ice-furred walls were mended by refugee hands; shattered throne rooms scrubbed clean of blood and ash. At last, beneath a dawn-tinted sky, Lina Mornveil ascended the reconstructed balcony overlooking the courtyard—a tapestry of flickering torches and assembled packs.
At her side stood Ronan Direfang, his armor polished to a silver sheen, cloak swept back to reveal healed scars. Before them, a sea of alphas, betas, omegas, and rescued soldiers bowed in reverence. On the steps, Bram, Seris, and the Crown Prince waited—each a living testament to the kingdom's renewal.
Lina stepped forward, voice carrying over the hushed crowd. “Today," she began, “we stand not as caged wolves or exiled hearts, but as one sovereign family." She pause
