The Chronicles of the Twin Moons

Chapter Nine: May Sees All

POV: May Raith

Water pitcher in hand, I walked into the elders’ hall. My eyes scanned every movement: the deliberate shift of Elder Geovan’s shoulders, the tap of Elder Mica’s fingers against the side of his mug, the almost imperceptible lean of my grandfather in his chair.

Luna Dienna Moonblood sat across the hall, her gaze fixed on Rauken. “You wished to speak with the elders…” she said, curiosity lacing her tone.

“Yes,” Rauken replied, calm, deliberate. “I wished to speak with the elders. On matters that affect my own pack. Not yours, dear Luna.” His eyes lingered on Geovan, measuring, unflinching.

“Elder Geovan, my friend,” Rauken continued. “I wish to seek Ceremony.”

A gasp rippled through the hall. “Ceremony?” Geovan’s tone sharpened, cold as a blade. “You know that can only be called if you have an heir. Heirless.”

Rauken’s lips curved into a slow, controlled smile. “I am not heirless, as you all claim. Though none truly care, do they? You assert something—therefore it must be truth? Were I able, I would request Ceremony of my own elders. You know the laws there.”

Geovan rose, his chair scraping lightly against stone. “Present me your heir, and we shall allow Ceremony.”

Rauken did not falter. His gaze swept the hall, calm as ice under fire. And then—the horn at the northern gate cut through the murmurs, sharp, insistent, demanding attention.

The hall fell into uneasy stillness. Every elder’s eyes flicked toward the doors. I felt the shift before it came: the subtle pull, a presence unlike any I had sensed before. Not loud. Not brash. But undeniable.

The doors opened. Riders entered, disciplined, precise, each stride measured. And among them… a man. Not Rauken, but the one he had raised, the one whose presence already bent the hall like tide beneath a moon.

I held my breath, water pitcher forgotten in my hand, as the room’s tension curled and twisted. Every eye followed Rauken, every whisper stopped. And then—finally—those same eyes turned to the man.

He did not speak. He did not need to. The hall knew him. The elders, the council, even the northern riders—they all shifted beneath the quiet authority he carried.

And I knew—before anyone else could speak—that this was the Ceremony in motion. Rauken’s heir had arrived.