A council meeting had been called by the king.
The great stone chamber was already filling with murmurs and tension by the time Thornak entered, his expression carved in granite. War loomed in every line of his frame. Around the circular table, the kingdom's most powerful voices had gathered.
No pleasantries were exchanged. Only the scrape of chairs, the shifting of armor, and the steady rhythm of the fire crackling at the hearth. Thornak stood at the head of the table, waiting until silence settled like dust.
The council was about to begin. He did not sit. Instead, he rested both hands on the table and let his voice ring out clear and unshaken.
"My mate, Lara," Thornak began, "is a Moonguard royal. She is the heir we have been looking for."
A murmur swept the room like wind across dry leaves. Alpha Harkan leaned forward, blinking as if unsure he'd heard correctly. Others stiffened, glancing at each other, measuring, calculating.
Thornak did not give them time to spiral.
"She did not ask for the blood in her veins. She did not seek the power that has awakened in her. But she faught beside us in battle, risked her life for this kingdom to fight the sorcerer and his rogues, and with her presence, changed the course of our fate."
He let the weight of those words hang before continuing.
"The King of the Northern Kingdom stands within our walls, for her. A thing once unthinkable, given our shared history. And this morning, letters arrived from clans across the realm, pledging allegiance to Vargorath… because the Moonguard heir walks among us."
That caused a ripple through the chamber. No one missed the weight of it. An alliance with the North had been stalled for a decade, and now the king himself was within their walls.
Kael interjected. "The wolves in the camps speak her name like it's a battle cry. They say she moves like fire through fog. I've never seen them believe in anyone like this. With her beside the King, we're not just stronger, we're dangerous."
Nods passed through the chamber. The fear that once lingered was fading, replaced by something deeper. Trust. Loyalty. Wonder.
Lord Edrion cleared his throat. "With respect, Your Majesty, the girl's emergence complicates everything. The kingdom is fragile, we can't gamble our future on bloodlines lost to myth."
"It's not myth if she shifted with moonfire all over her and faced the sorcerer with her bare hands. She also bears the mark of the royal Moonguard." Kael responded.
A murmur of agreement followed.
From her seat draped in violet, Queen Maravelle lifted her goblet. "And what mark is that, Alpha? A glow? A gift of silver fur? Or is it simply the King's... infatuation?"
The insult was cloaked in civility, but the blow landed.
Thornak's jaw tightened. "Watch your words."
"She is your mate, yes," Maravelle said softly, "but that does not crown her queen. The Moonguard throne is dust. And ashes do not rule."
Thornak turned to her then. His voice was quiet, but sharp enough to slice stone.
"You speak of crowns, Maravelle. But I speak of kingdoms. You worry for your place on the dais. I worry for the survival of our people."
He let the silence speak next. It was louder than thunder.
Queen Maravelle rested her chin on a ringed hand, "and what happens when the other realms see her as the rightful heir, not you? You're opening the gates to chaos. Wolves follow strength. But what they love today, they might fear tomorrow. And when fear takes hold, the pack will turn."
Thornak's gaze locked onto hers. There was no gentleness in it.
"Enough," he said. "You speak of fear, but I speak of legacy. Lara is not a threat, she is the reason this kingdom stands to rise again."
Alpha Ren, ever the fence-walker, finally spoke. "What I think the Queen means to say is that, If the people learn she's the heir, it could fracture our own alliances. The Northern Clans obviously revere the Moonguard still. The Faeborne may rise behind her. What then? A divided realm?"
"Like I said, she is not claiming the throne," Thornak said flatly.
"But for how long?" Maravelle asked, her voice now a blade. "When the people start bowing to her instead of you? When the old powers stir again?"
A cold hush followed.
Thornak's voice was iron. "Speak plainly, Maravelle."
Her smile vanished. "Then plainly: the girl is a threat to your reign. If you are too blind to see it, the council must act to preserve the crown and the kingdom."
Thornak let the silence stretch for one beat… then another.
When he spoke, his tone was no longer sharp, it was measured, low, and steady. Like the voice of a mountain before the storm.
"I will not let pride tear this council apart. Not mine and not yours."
He looked slowly around the room, catching the eyes of each leader.
"You speak of thrones. I speak of the dead. I have seen what this blood magic does. I've stood at the edge of its darkness. You all know what's coming. We cannot fight it with our strength alone. We cannot outlast it with politics."
He straightened, his hands still firm on the table.
"There is no crown worth wearing atop the bones of our people. And if we fall, who wears it then? What king rules a grave?"
The room stilled.
"She is not our weakness. She is our only chance. The Moonguard were born to face what the rest of us cannot. You fear what she represents, fine. But fear is not the enemy. Division is."
He turned his eyes back to Queen Maravelle.
"I don't care who wears the crown, so long as our kingdom still stands. I don't care what blood runs through the heir's veins, as long as that blood bleeds for Vargorath."
Then, to the room at large:
"You want peace? Then unify behind the one force strong enough to fight this darkness. You want survival? Then let go of old grudges, and remember the oath you swore, to the people. Not to your own ambition."
A heavy pause.
"The Moonguard are not ghosts. She is here. And we either rise with her… or fall alone."
A moment passed.
Then, from his place near the hearth, Ambassador Thane rose, robes rustling like dry parchment. "I agree with the King," he said, his voice clear and firm. "Peace will not come through posturing. It will come through unity. We have argued for too long about power. Let us speak now of survival."
Lady Merel, leaned forward. Her voice carried the steel edge of ancient warning. "If the sorcerer and his master are allowed to rise unopposed, humanity is doomed. Not just your Lycans. Not just the fae. All of us. What lies beneath that blood magic has no allegiance but death."
A low murmur of agreement swept the chamber like thunder crawling across the floor.
Alpha Ren, usually the most hesitant, gave a grave nod. "Thornak is right. The Moonguard were stronger than any kingdom we've known, and they still fell. What chance do we have without their last heir?" He exhaled. "This is not about faith. This is about math."
The bluntest voice came next.
Alpha Veyra, a war-scarred veteran, scoffed under her breath and shook her head. "We'd be fools, damn fools, to be chasing crowns while the abyss opens beneath us. Let the girl lead the way if she can hold the light. The rest of us should be building walls behind her, not throwing stones."
The room shifted. Shoulders eased. Backs straightened. Suspicion gave way to dawning clarity.
Thornak's stance lightened just slightly, as if the weight across his shoulders had loosened its grip.
He looked once more around the circle. "Then we are agreed. We stand together. Not behind a name… but behind a future worth bleeding for."
And one by one, beneath the weight of firelight and fate, they nodded. Silent oaths forged in flame.
Maravelle tapped a jeweled finger against her lips. Though her face showed no emotion, she had plans already set in motion, coiling beneath her calm, like serpents in the grass. Her hands rested loosely in her lap, the picture of restraint, but her gaze was calculating, measuring loyalties, marking threats. Let them cheer for their wildfire queen. Fire burns fast but smoke lingers longer."