The storm had passed by dawn, leaving the Crescent Fang Pack draped in damp mist. The forest glistened with raindrops, and the air carried the heavy scent of pine and earth. Yet inside the stone walls of the council chamber, there was no freshness, no renewal—only tension that pressed down like a suffocating weight.
Elara entered quietly, her plain ivory gown clinging faintly to her frame, the crown of Luna set upon her brow though it felt like a mockery. She had not slept again, her eyes rimmed faintly red despite her efforts to mask them. Her wolf remained restless within her, pacing and snarling, demanding release. But Elara's steps carried only stillness. She had told herself she would not falter today.
The elders sat in their semicircle, their lined faces etched with curiosity and unease. The Betas flanked the room, their gazes flicking between Victor and Elara. And at the center, seated at the high table, Victor commanded the room as he always did—shoulders squared, amber eyes sharp, authority radiating from every movement.
But today, he was not alone.
Seraphina sat beside him.
She wore a gown of silver-blue silk that gleamed under the torchlight, her silver hair cascading in perfect waves. She looked timid, demure, her hands folded neatly in her lap as if she did not belong—yet her presence spoke volumes. She was not serving, not standing in the shadows. She was seated where no omega had ever sat before: beside the Alpha.
And where Elara should have been.
Murmurs rippled through the chamber as Elara approached. Some elders bowed to her as Luna, others avoided her eyes altogether, their discomfort laid bare. She lifted her chin, her steps measured, her expression the mask she had worn for years. But every fiber of her being burned at the sight of Seraphina in her place.
Victor's gaze swept over her, cold and appraising. "Luna," he said simply, acknowledging her but offering no seat beside him. Instead, his hand gestured faintly toward the lower chairs near the elders.
A chill swept through Elara's veins, but she moved as directed, lowering herself into the seat that had never been hers. The demotion was deliberate, visible to all. Her wolf snarled in outrage, but Elara pressed it down, nails biting into her palms as she forced her body into stillness.
Victor rose, his commanding presence silencing the murmurs at once. "Council of Crescent Fang," he began, his voice steady, resonant. "We meet today to discuss more than borders and alliances. We meet to acknowledge change."
The word crackled in the air like fire.
Victor extended his hand, and Seraphina rose gracefully. Her eyes darted nervously across the room, but Victor's presence at her side steadied her.
"This," Victor said, his voice carrying, "is Seraphina. She has proven her loyalty, her dedication, and her worth. In these times of unrest, strength is not found only on the battlefield but in the bonds we choose to honor. From this day forward, she will stand beside me."
Gasps swept through the chamber. Elders exchanged wide-eyed glances, whispers breaking like a storm. One braver than the rest leaned forward, his voice trembling with disbelief. "Alpha… what of the Luna?"
All eyes turned to Elara.
Her chest tightened. She rose from her seat, her crown glinting in the torchlight. Her voice was steady though her blood roared in her ears. "I am here," she said firmly. "I am Luna, chosen by the moon, bound by the sacred oath. No other can stand in that place while I yet live."
The chamber stilled, her words hanging heavy.
Victor's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint sparking in their depths. He stepped toward her, his dominance rolling off him in waves. "Sit down, Elara."
Her wolf growled, her pride flaring. "You disgrace the bond," she pressed, her voice rising. "Before this council, before our ancestors, you humiliate me. You cannot replace me with an omega mistress. I am your mate!"
Gasps broke out among the elders, some nodding in agreement, others shrinking back in fear of Victor's wrath. For a moment, Elara thought she saw flickers of support in their eyes. For a moment, hope burned.
Then Victor's voice thundered across the chamber. "Enough!"
The sound silenced all. His wolf flared behind his words, thick with power, pressing the air from Elara's lungs. "You will not question me before my council. You will not shame me with your weakness and your desperation. You are Luna in title alone, Elara. But you lack the strength, the resolve, the presence. You are too weak to be Luna."
The words struck her like claws across her soul.
Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of his dominance, her wolf snarling and yelping within. Yet she forced herself to stand tall, though her heart cracked open with every word. Her voice trembled as she tried once more. "Victor… I have given you everything. I have silenced myself, I have obeyed, I have—"
"Silence!" he roared.
The word was a command, thick with Alpha power. It slammed into her like a physical blow, ripping the air from her throat. Her voice died instantly, her lips parting but no sound escaping. She staggered, gripping the edge of her chair, her chest heaving with the effort to resist the compulsion. But she could not. The bond, the authority of the Alpha, bound her.
The elders shifted uncomfortably, their gazes darting between Victor and Elara. Some pitied her, others looked away, unwilling to challenge their Alpha.
Victor turned back to the council, his hand resting firmly on Seraphina's shoulder. "From this day forward," he declared, "Seraphina will stand beside me at council meetings. She has my trust. She has my protection. And she will have your respect."
Seraphina lowered her head modestly, though her lips trembled faintly. She had not spoken a word, yet her presence was enough to shake the foundation of the pack.
Elara stood frozen, silenced not only by his command but by the shattering of her place, her title, her very identity. Her crown felt like a noose around her head, her gown like chains upon her body. She could not speak, could not defend herself, could not protest as Victor erased her before their very eyes.
The meeting carried on as though she were nothing.
Elders asked questions about borders, about trade, about alliances. Victor answered with his usual authority, Seraphina sitting silently at his side like a jewel he had placed upon his crown. Not once did he glance at Elara, not once did he acknowledge her presence.
She sat rigid in her chair, her throat burning from the compulsion, her eyes fixed on the floor lest they betray the fury burning within.
Her wolf raged inside her, thrashing, clawing, demanding she fight. Do not bow. Do not yield. Tear the crown from your head and show them who you are.
But Elara's body would not obey. She was trapped—by Victor's dominance, by the weight of years spent silencing herself, by the humiliation that now painted her every breath.
When at last the council adjourned, the elders filed out with solemn faces, some sparing her quick, pitying glances. Victor lingered only long enough to escort Seraphina from the chamber, his hand steady at the small of her back.
Elara remained behind, standing alone in the echoing silence.
Slowly, painfully, her voice returned, though it emerged cracked and hoarse. "Too weak…" she whispered.
She reached up and pulled the crown from her head. It glinted mockingly in the dying torchlight, a symbol that had once meant honor, now reduced to ashes. She held it in her trembling hands, then set it gently on the table.
Her wolf growled low, a sound of grief and fury.
"Not forever," Elara whispered to herself. Her gaze lifted to the doors through which Victor and Seraphina had vanished. "You call me weak. You strip me of my place. But you will see. One day, you will see."
The mist outside thickened, curling against the windows like waiting shadows. And in that moment, Elara swore silently to the moon itself: she would endure this humiliation. She would carry this pain. And when the time came, she would rise from it, stronger than any of them could imagine.
For now, she was silenced.
But not forever.