The assassin's body had been dragged from the gardens before dawn, but his words lingered like venom in the pack's veins. The sea witch doesn't belong here. They had been meant as a curse, but they spread through the fortress like wildfire, whispered from guard to servant, from soldier to elder, until the very walls seemed to hum with suspicion.
Seraphina stood at her chamber's window, staring at the courtyard below. Wolves gathered in knots, speaking in hushed tones that stopped when she appeared at the balcony. Their gazes rose, filled not with gratitude but with fear. Her heart sank. She had saved them twice now, yet still she was an outsider.
Behind her, the door slammed shut. Dominic stormed inside, his jaw tight, his hands still stained faintly with blood. His wolf simmered so close to the surface his eyes glowed amber in the dim light.
"They're testing me," he growled, pacing the room like a caged beast. "First the whispers, now blades in the dark. If I don't crush this rebellion, it'll spread like rot."
Seraphina turned slowly, her voice soft but steady. "It already has."
The words stung him. His steps faltered, his fury shifting into something darker—fear. "You think I don't see it? Half of them look at you like you're salvation, the other half like you're a curse. And Lyanna—" He spat her name like poison. "She fans both flames."
Her throat tightened. "Then confront her."
Dominic stopped pacing. He looked at her, and for the first time in days, hesitation flickered in his gaze. "She was raised beside me. We bled in the same wars, buried the same dead. She thinks she's earned me." His fists clenched. "She'll never accept that fate chose you instead."
Seraphina's heart ached. She wanted to reach for him, to anchor him in the storm. But a part of her whispered caution. He is torn, and a man torn is dangerous to love.
"Dominic," she said, her voice trembling despite her resolve. "I cannot keep fighting to prove myself worthy. I saved your people, I risked my life, and still they call me witch. If your court cannot accept me, perhaps…" She faltered, breath shaking. "…perhaps I should not stay."
His growl was instant, feral. He was on her in two strides, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Don't say that. Don't you dare." His eyes burned into hers, raw and desperate. "The bond will not let me lose you. My wolf would tear this kingdom apart stone by stone before it let you go."
Her pulse raced under his touch. She should have feared his intensity, but instead it drew her closer. Still, doubt lingered. "And what of your people? Would you destroy them too, for me?"
He hesitated, and in that pause, she found her answer.
---
The council summoned them before noon. The hall was packed, every elder, every captain, every wolf of standing crammed into the stone chamber. The air reeked of smoke and unease.
At the head, Elder Kael slammed his staff down, his voice sharp as a blade. "An assassin walks our halls, and our Alpha brings not punishment but excuses. This is weakness."
Dominic stood tall, radiating command, but Seraphina felt the tension in the room, saw the hungry gleam in their eyes. They were circling him, like wolves scenting blood.
Then Lyanna rose from her seat. Her beauty was as sharp as ever, golden hair gleaming, lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We are loyal to you, Dominic," she purred. "But loyalty is not blindness. Every attack, every whisper, every shadow—since she arrived." Her gaze cut to Seraphina, venomous and sweet. "Can you not see the curse you've invited into our midst?"
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Seraphina's fingers curled into her skirts, nails biting her palms.
Dominic snarled, "You will not speak of her that way—"
But Lyanna only tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Then prove it. Let the pack decide. If she is truly our Luna, let her win their hearts not with spells or seduction, but by strength. The old ways demand trial."
Murmurs erupted. Some shouted agreement, others protested, but the seed had been planted. Seraphina's chest tightened. A trial. A test by combat or ordeal, judged not by fairness but by blood and spectacle.
Dominic slammed his fist into the table. "Enough! There will be no trial. She is mine. That is the end of it."
But the elders shifted uneasily. One by one, they lowered their eyes, as though his word alone no longer held the weight it once did.
Seraphina saw it then—the fracture. His court was slipping from his control, and Lyanna was widening the cracks with every poisoned word.
---
That night, Dominic drank alone by the hearth, firelight carving shadows across his face. Seraphina approached quietly, her steps soft against the rug.
"They won't stop," she said gently. "Not until they see me broken or gone."
His grip tightened on the cup until it cracked, spilling wine onto his hand. "Then let them choke on their doubt," he spat. "I'll kill the next man who lays a hand on you."
She sank beside him, her hand brushing his arm. "You cannot fight them all, Dominic. Not with claws. Not with fear. If I must prove myself, let me. Not for them. For us."
He turned to her, eyes dark with conflict. "You don't understand what you're asking. Their trials are brutal. Meant to break the spirit, to expose weakness. If they see you bleed, if they smell your fear—"
"Then I'll show them my strength," she cut in, her voice firmer than she felt. Her heart pounded, but her resolve held. "I will not hide in shadows while others plot my death. I am your mate, Dominic. If they want to test me, let them. I'll make them choke on their doubt."
For a long moment, he simply stared at her, torn between pride and fear. Then, slowly, he cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. "You are fire wrapped in silk," he whispered hoarsely. "And I'll burn the world if they destroy you."
She leaned into his touch, her heart aching with both love and dread.
---
The next morning, the announcement spread: Seraphina would face the Trial of the Luna.
The courtyard was transformed into an arena, wolves gathering in a circle that stretched wide, their howls echoing through the mountains. At its center, the ground was marked with runes older than any kingdom, glowing faintly with ancient power.
Seraphina stepped into the ring, her gown replaced by leather and steel, her hair braided back from her face. She felt their eyes upon her—hungry, doubtful, eager for her failure.
Dominic stood at the edge, his fists clenched, every muscle taut with barely contained rage. Their eyes met across the ring, and for a moment, the bond pulsed between them, strong and unshakable.
Then Elder Kael raised his staff. "By blood and by bond, the trial begins. Let the Luna prove her worth."
The first challenger stepped forward—a towering wolf with scars etched across his chest, eyes glinting with disdain. He shifted with a crack of bone and sinew, fur bursting across his body until a massive beast loomed before her, teeth bared.
Seraphina swallowed her fear. She had no claws, no fangs. Only her voice.
As the wolf lunged, she released her song. Not soft this time, not pleading—but sharp, fierce, vibrating with power. The air shimmered with her cry, slamming into the wolf mid-leap. He staggered, howling, his body crashing into the dirt.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some cried out in awe, others in outrage.
Another challenger stepped forward, then another, each more vicious than the last. Seraphina fought not with brute strength but with the song that had always been her gift and curse. Her throat burned, her body trembled, but she did not yield. With every note, she pushed them back, proving again and again that she was not fragile, not helpless.
By the time the last wolf fell, panting and dazed at the ring's edge, the courtyard was silent.
Seraphina stood at the center, chest heaving, her voice raw, but her eyes blazing with defiance. She had not broken. She had not fled.
And though some still glared, suspicion sharp in their gaze, others bowed their heads—acknowledging, if not yet embracing, the strength they had witnessed.
Dominic's roar split the silence, fierce and triumphant. "This is your Luna. Mark her strength well, for she will not bend, and neither will I!"
The pack howled in response, the sound echoing through the mountains, part fury, part reverence.
But in the shadows, Lyanna watched, her lips curved in a smile too thin to be mistaken for defeat. For though Seraphina had won today, the fracture in the court remained. And Lyanna knew how to turn cracks into chasms.