The morning after their arrival dawned crisp and clear, the Silver Crown bathed in golden light that filtered through the chamber's arched windows like threads of molten sun. The twenty girls stirred from their fur-draped beds, the air alive with the murmur of voices and the rustle of silk. Vera, the matronly overseer with her sharp eyes and no-nonsense braid, had wasted no time. "Preparation begins now," she announced, clapping her hands to summon a flock of attendants, slender women in crisp uniforms of gray wool, their hair pinned with silver wolf pins. "You are no longer daughters of the wilds. You are prospects for the throne. Dress accordingly."
The chambers transformed into a whirlwind of activity. Trunks of garments were hauled in, lids flung open to reveal cascades of fabrics that shimmered like captured starlight. The girls clustered around, their initial awe giving way to eager chatter as they rifled through the offerings. The attendants worked with practiced efficiency, measuring waists, adjusting hems, and adorning necks with jewels that caught the light in dazzling prisms. Each gown was a masterpiece, tailored to evoke the essence of the United Packs while honoring the wearer's elemental heritage. Older girls, some nearing twenty-two, carried a polished air, their elemental gifts honed by years Ember envied, heightening the competitive tension among the group.
For the FlameFang girls, the dresses were in deep crimson and amber hues, silk bodices embroidered with flickering flame motifs that seemed to dance when the light hit them just right. The skirts flowed like liquid fire, layered with chiffon that whispered with every movement, hemmed in gold thread woven with tiny rubies that evoked embers. Around their necks, attendants draped necklaces of polished garnet and topaz, heavy chains that symbolized the pack's fiery gift. Wrists were encircled with bracelets of twisted gold, etched with runes of warmth and destruction, while hair was woven with feathers singed at the edges to mimic flames. Mira and Lira, seventeen, squealed in delight, twirling in their gowns, the twins' fiery tempers mirrored in their bold choices of low-cut bodices that accentuated their curves. Sable, nineteen, opted for a gown with slits up the sides for mobility, her bold nature shining as she flexed her arms, admiring the fabric's fit on her athletic frame. Sara, sixteen, hesitated, her fingers tracing the intricate embroidery of her orange lace gown as if it were one of her baskets, its delicate overlays making her look like a flickering candle.
The other packs' girls were adorned to highlight their elemental gifts, fostering a subtle undercurrent of rivalry. The Aero Claws from the northern tundra wore gowns of swirling blues and silvers, light as air, with capes that billowed like windswept clouds, adorned with sapphire pendants and feathers that fluttered without breeze. Aria, eighteen, smirked as she adjusted her aquamarine diadem, her wind-swept blonde hair and piercing blue eyes radiating confidence as she whispered to her companions, "Fire girls might burn bright, but wind extinguishes flames." The Terra Fangs from the misty valleys donned earthy greens and browns, heavy velvet skirts grounded with embroidered vines and gemstones of emerald and jade, their necklaces chunky amulets of polished stone. Riven, seventeen, stood solid, her dark curls framing a commanding presence, flexing her fingers to cause a faint tremor in the floor as she boasted, "Earth crushes all—wind scatters, fire fades, water erodes." The Aqua Paws of the volcanic ridges shimmered in aquamarine and teal, flowing gowns like cascading waves, bejeweled with pearls and coral. Liora, twenty, glided with haughty grace, her sun-kissed skin and fluid tattoos gleaming as she shaped a swirl of water from a nearby basin, laughing, "Waves drown fires and erode stones; only wind dances with us."
Amid the giggles and exclamations, tensions simmered. The girls mingled tentatively, sharing compliments on gowns or pack stories, but old rivalries bubbled like hidden springs. An Aero Claw teased a Terra Fang about their "muddy" aesthetics, prompting a retort about "flighty airheads." An Aqua Paw splashed water playfully, but it singed a Flame Fang's hem, sparking a mock flame in response. Laughter turned sharp, alliances forming along pack lines—Mira and Lira banding with Sable to defend their fiery pride, while Sara hung back, her shy nature an easy target.
Ember, seventeen, stood apart, leaning against a gilded pillar near the window, her scarlet silk gown fitting her lithe form, its flame-embroidered bodice accentuating her quiet strength. Her amber-beaded braids clicked softly, and the pendant pulsed warm against her chest, grounding her amidst the chaos. Kadyn's warning from Scorchvale Ridge—"What if your secret slips there, among strangers?"—urged her to shield her packmates with the same cunning she'd honed in the wilds. She observed the rivalries: Aria's cutting wit at eighteen, Riven's blunt force at seventeen, Liora's slippery charm at twenty, their ages and experience shaping their confidence. This was a different hunt, one of words and glances, and Ember's instincts urged patience, observation. The opulence felt foreign, the heavy fabrics a far cry from her tunics, but she saw opportunity in the adornment symbols to bind or divide.
The conflict ignited when an attendant approached Sara, fumbling with her garnet necklace. Aria sauntered over, her voice dripping with condescension. "Oh, look at the little flame flickering out," she taunted, loud enough for nearby girls. "Can't even handle a bit of sparkle? No wonder fire packs hide in ridges—afraid the wind will blow you away." Her AeroClaw companions tittered, one summoning a breeze to ruffle Sara's gown mockingly. Sara flushed, her eyes downcast, fingers twisting the fabric.
Ember pushed off the pillar, gliding forward with silent grace. Kadyn's loyalty, his vow to protect her secret, steadied her resolve to protect Sara. "Aria," Ember said, her voice smooth and diplomatic, a smile not reaching her eyes, "your winds are impressive, carrying words so far. But flames thrive on air. Without your gusts, we'd be mere embers. Imagine how brightly we could burn together." She positioned herself between Sara and the group, her words a veiled compliment, forcing Aria to pause, implying alliance over antagonism. Turning to Sara, she adjusted the necklace, whispering, "Stand tall, like your baskets—strong and intricate." To the attendants, she added, "See how it suits her? A touch of wildness in the elegance."
Aria's smirk faltered, her companions exchanging glances; Ember's cunning had defused the tension without confrontation, turning the bully's words back like a reflected gust. Riven and Liora watched warily, reassessing Ember as a subtle force. The room quieted, respect flickering in a few eyes.
As an attendant eyed Ember's wooden pendant, suggesting a garnet choker, Ember's hand covered it. "It's a family heirloom," she said firmly, her voice pleading diplomatically. "From my mother, blessed by the Old Spirits. Removing it would dim my fire, surely the prince seeks authenticity?" Vera, overhearing, nodded after scrutiny. "Keep it. But ensure it doesn't clash." Ember exhaled, the pendant's warmth a reminder of her hidden gifts.
As the morning wore on, the girls were herded toward their first etiquette lesson, rivalries simmering beneath silk and jewels. Ember walked with Sara, her protective stance subtle, her mind weaving strategies for this gilded cage.