The Autumn Summit was unlike anything Selene had ever seen.
Set in the valley between the Silverclaw Mountains and the Hollow Ridge, the summit grounds resembled a war camp more than a diplomatic gathering. Dozens of tents, arranged by pack allegiance, formed concentric rings around a towering bonfire pit in the center. Flags flapped in the cold wind—symbols of old alliances and ancient rivalries.
Selene descended the ridge, her cloak billowing behind her, the Crest of Aetheryn glowing faintly at her throat. Her arrival did not go unnoticed.
Eyes followed her.
Some widened in shock. Others narrowed in suspicion.
And a few—particularly those of ambitious Alphas—watched with a mix of curiosity and calculation.
"Is that her?"
"She's real?"
"I heard she made Damien bleed just by speaking his name."
"She's the Rejected Luna. Thought she'd crawl into exile, not... walk in like a queen."
Selene ignored the whispers. She had come to forge alliances, not entertain rumors.
A Beta from the Bloodfang Pack approached her, tall and lean with a thick scar running down his cheek. He bowed slightly—not out of respect, but as a formality.
"Selene Blackwood. Alpha Korren of Bloodfang will see you in the crimson tent. He's… interested."
Selene nodded once. "Lead the way."
—
Inside the crimson tent, Alpha Korren lounged on a throne of bones wrapped in red leather. Muscular, brutal, and known for leading with fear, he was the oldest Alpha present—and the most unpredictable.
"Royal blood," Korren said as she entered, voice like gravel. "Never thought I'd live long enough to see it again."
Selene didn't bow. Instead, she met his eyes evenly.
"I didn't come to beg for loyalty, Alpha. I came to offer a future."
Korren laughed, loud and unfiltered. "A future, huh? That's what all the young wolves say before they die in a ditch."
She stepped forward, her aura sharpening like blades around her. "Then hear me out before you dig my grave."
The tent grew colder. The other warriors nearby instinctively backed away.
Korren's smirk faded just a little. "Speak."
Selene pulled a scroll from her cloak—the Blood Treaty draft Jace had given her—and laid it before him.
"I intend to reclaim the throne of the Alpha Queen. Not to dominate the packs, but to unite them—under law, protection, and strength. The Crest has awakened. The Council of Shadows already recognizes me. And if three of the Great Packs sign this treaty, I will be publicly recognized."
"And you want me to be the first," Korren said, tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne.
"No," she replied. "I want you to be the boldest."
He stared at her.
Then, slowly, he leaned back. "You remind me of your mother. Lyra Aetheryn. She was terrifying. Smart, too. Would've changed everything if she hadn't been betrayed."
Selene's jaw clenched.
"Sign the treaty," she said. "Stand with me now, and when I ascend, Bloodfang will sit at my right hand."
Korren studied her, then finally grunted.
He dipped a claw into a nearby ink pot and scrawled his name across the parchment in thick, sharp letters.
"Done."
Selene gave a nod of respect. "You won't regret it."
As she left the tent, Korren called after her, "Don't die before the third pack signs it, girl. That'd be embarrassing."
—
Later that day, she entered the Nightmist sector of the camp. Their tents were elegant, adorned with moonflowers and silk banners. The Nightmist Pack prided itself on wisdom and magical heritage.
Alpha Saria waited for her in a tent that smelled of sage and starlight. She was slender and regal, with sharp blue eyes and hair the color of midnight.
"I knew you'd come," Saria said as Selene entered.
"You support the old ways," Selene said directly. "The Crest has returned. The bloodline lives. The prophecy is real."
Saria walked slowly around her, eyes scanning her aura. "You wear the mark. And your power resonates… But what about your heart? A Queen must rule not just with strength—but with mercy, too."
"I have mercy," Selene said. "But not for traitors. Not for murderers. And certainly not for those who tried to wipe out my family."
Saria's gaze softened slightly. "Then perhaps the Moon Goddess was right."
She took the treaty.
"Bloodfang has already signed," Selene added. "With your signature, the tides will shift."
Saria took a quill and, without further hesitation, signed her name beneath Korren's.
"That's two," she said. "But the third will not be easy."
Selene frowned. "Ironclaw."
Saria nodded grimly. "Alpha Vane doesn't believe in honor. He believes in war. And he has already accepted a secret offer from the Shadow Fang."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Then it's a race."
—
That night, under the light of the full moon, Selene approached the Ironclaw camp—dark tents, armored warriors, and an Alpha known for leaving trails of blood in his wake.
Vane sat sharpening a blade beside a firepit, his silver-gray hair tied back. His armor was blackened iron, and his eyes were wolfish—predator through and through.
"I heard you were coming," he said without looking up. "I heard you're trying to play Queen."
"I'm not playing," Selene said. "Sign the treaty. Stand with me."
Vane stood, towering over her. "Why would I do that, when I've already been promised half the Northern territories if I kill you?"
Selene's pulse quickened.
"So it's true," she said. "You've allied with Shadow Fang."
"I don't ally," Vane growled. "I conquer."
He lunged.
Selene was ready.
She dodged, drawing her blades. Steel clashed against iron as they fought beneath the moonlight. Sparks flew, and warriors began to gather around, forming a ring of spectators.
"Yield!" Vane roared.
"Not to you," Selene hissed.
Suddenly, her crest flared. A pulse of silvery energy knocked Vane back several feet.
He skidded to a stop, breath ragged.
Selene stalked toward him, blade to his throat.
"I don't need to kill you, Vane. But I will if you make me."
He looked up at her, panting, surprised.
"You… You fight like Aetheryn."
"Because I am."
Silence.
Then, with a low chuckle, he rose and extended his hand.
"I don't kneel. But I'll sign. Not because I believe in queens—but because I follow strength. And girl… you've got it."
Selene handed him the treaty.
Three names.
Bloodfang. Nightmist. Ironclaw.
It was done.
The packs watched as she lifted the treaty high, her crest glowing bright.
"The Queen has returned," someone whispered.
And the summit burned with energy.
The throne was no longer a myth.
Selene had claimed it.