Hyran, meant to officiate the ceremony, remained silent after Bellatrix stormed away. His attention stayed on Serena, studying her with quiet intensity.
That interaction told Hyran more about Serena than anyone realized.
She held her composure throughout and met the queen's gaze head-on, unflinching. Most would have risen to those insults. She did not. She held her tongue for nearly all of it, and that alone marked training. Cultivation. Discipline learned in high society, not instinct.
But when she finally spoke, that sealed it.
Her diction was precise and enunciation proper. Her wit was razor-sharp without crossing the line.
She wasn't merely raised in high society. No, she was raised in a court somewhere.
King Tiberon cleared his throat, and Hyran looked away from her to meet the King's eyes. Tiberon was well-read and had a sharp mind; no doubt he had come to the same conclusion.
Hyran offered the King a faint, knowing tilt of the head before turning back to the altar. His gaze locked onto both women with an expectant, razor-sharp focus.
"Blood remembers," Hyran said in a grave tone. "And blood binds."
He paused dramatically, letting the words sink in. Gav's lips twitched, and Dex fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"Do you, before King and altar, swear to uphold this pack, to guard its lives, keep its secrets, and renounce all will against your own, binding yourself in blood and bone until death or the Alpha's command?"
"I do."
Hyran's gaze sharpened and his voice dropped.
"Step forward," he said, "and let the ancestors decide."
They moved to stand around the crystal basin with King Tobarin at the head.
He unsheathed a ceremonial dagger and cut his palm, letting the blood drip into the flame. The fire surged, recognizing him.
Dexmon went next, and the flame gave an identical reaction. Hale was third, Gavriel fourth, and Hyran last.
Hyran wiped the blade and handed the dagger to Elara. "One at a time."
Elara cut her palm without flinching, squeezing her blood into the basin.
"Place your hand into the flame." Hyran said, "The fire will speak its judgment."
Elara put her hand in the flame, not hesitating or even slightly concerned she'd be burned. The fire immediately flashed silver. Hale's eyes widened momentarily and his breath hitched.
King Tiberon glanced his way, lips twitching but said nothing.
After a moment, the flame returned back to its original state.
"The ancestors have spoken. Your oath was accepted." Hyran said.
Elara handed Serena the dagger.
Serena cut her palm without hesitating. Her blood was luminous, and every eye followed. Even Hyran stared for a moment. Her expression remained composed, pretending not to notice as she squeezed her hand, liquid gold falling into the basin.
When the first drop hit the flame, it immediately roared gold.
Serena looked at Hyran, expecting the command to offer her hand for judgment, but he remained transfixed by the fire. She swallowed hard, her throat tight, but she kept her spine straight, refusing to acknowledge the heavy, suffocating tension.
Dexmon, meanwhile, had gone rigid. The scent of her blood caught him entirely off guard, slamming into him like a charging bull.
A sudden, primal urge to mate and mark her surged through him, right there on the ceremonial floor. The instinct was consuming and terrifying in its intensity.
His wolf, Aegon, clawed at the surface, desperate to break through.
Aegon: I am fighting the urge to mark her. Do you feel that?
Dexmon: Yes. Control yourself.
Out of habit, Dexmon breathed in a steadying breath. Only to breathe in her scent again, and instantly regret it.
Aegon: I don't care anymore.
Dexmon: Absolutely the fuck not.
Aegon: Mate her. Mate her again. Mark her. In that order.
It took every ounce of control Dexmon possessed to hold back. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple; his fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. The Moon Goddess, it seemed, truly had a twisted sense of humor.
Finally, Hyran broke the silence, his voice returning to its melodic, practiced tone.
"Place your hand within the flame," he instructed, gesturing toward the flame. "Let the fire speak its judgment."
Serena placed her hand in the fire, her eyes never leaving Hyran. She wasn't thinking about the flame itself, or the fact that it could burn her. What unsettled her was the pause before he'd told her to do it.
Too long.
Was her blood going to be a problem? Her heart sank at the thought of her blood being the reason she couldn't become a pack member.
Or maybe, had she done something offensive? Her thoughts spiraled for a few seconds before a warming sensation caught her attention.
She glanced down at her hand, quiet curiosity overtaking her unease. The flame was warm, gentle in a way she hadn't expected.
Soothing calm washed into her, easing the tightness in her chest. Almost as if the flame were telling her not to worry and that she didn't misstep. Her blood was perfect exactly as it was.
King Tiberon exchanged a glance with Hyran. Usually after a few seconds, the flame returned to its natural state, signaling the judgement was complete and the hand could be removed.
But the fire remained gold, unchanging.
It had already been a few minutes.
He looked at Serena, who met his gaze with steady composure. He gave a curt nod, that meant she could withdraw.
Serena pulled her hand from the flame. But just as she cleared the heat, the fire surged upward, snapping around her wrist like a shackle and yanking her back. The force was so violent that her entire arm was swallowed by the gold, and she was thrown forward until she hit the side of the crystal basin with a dull thud.
Serena inhaled sharply, her brows furrowed. She looked to Hyran and King Tiberon, but they seemed equally perplexed, their practiced masks of authority slipping.
Then, the fire went out completely.
But this flame had burned since the very inception of Drakenfell, surviving thousands of years without ever flickering. Hyran blinked and squinted at it. Like his eyes were wrong.
Thinking the ritual was over and she was in the clear, she began to pull her arm back.
She was mistaken.
It yanked her back with annoyance this time. With such ferocity that she let out a pained grunt as her body slammed against the basin.
A cylinder of golden fire roared fifty feet into the night sky, a pillar of pure radiance that turned the surrounding darkness into day.
The blast sent a shockwave rippling through the courtyard, knocking everyone else to the ground.
Gold light flowed from the flame into her body, and whispers brushed the edge of her awareness.
She didn't know who they were, only that they mattered. Reverence settled deep in her chest, instinctive and unquestioned. They had chosen her.
She didn't know for what. She didn't know how she knew.
Only that she did.
Gratitude swelled, sharp and humbling, and with it a quiet vow.
She would not fail them.
Suddenly, the flame dropped back into the basin, returning to its normal, flickering state as if the cataclysmic pillar of fire had never existed.
Serena yanked her hand out with entirely too much force, her expression giving away her sheer relief that the flame had finally let her go.
She was unaware that she was glowing gold until she saw Elara's warning look. She looked down at her hands and sighed, having absolutely no clue how to stop.
Hyran seemed to have found his voice after watching this interaction.
"The ancestors have spoken. Your oath was accepted."
A wave of lightheadedness washed over her that instant. She focused on breathing normally. The last thing she wanted to do was pass out again.
"This ceremony is adjoined. Welcome to the Drakenfell pack." Hyran said, grinning, which he never did. His eyes locked on Serena, already with big plans. She wasn't quite a fae or mage, but she had magic under her skin and she was powerful.
Before Serena or Elara could say anything, Hale tripped forward, a mountain of muscle moving like a toddler who'd just discovered legs. He barreled toward Elara with all the coordination of a drunk moose on ice.
It might've been majestic. If it hadn't been horrifying.
He caught a stone with his boot—because of course he did—and lunged forward with a startled, "Elara—!"
Serena, unfortunately positioned between them, reacted on pure instinct. He fell flat onto her, and she managed to catch him, mid-fall. But then stumbled back at his weight.
For half a glorious second, she managed to stay upright.
Then gravity remembered it was undefeated.
There was a whoomp as Serena vanished beneath Hale's full weight like a deer under a falling bookshelf.
Gavriel let out a strangled noise that might have been a laugh or a wheeze.
Dexmon helped him up a moment later, more so trying to get to Serena. But, before he could help her, Hale, with all the subtlety of a troll, bent down and scooped Serena up by the waist like she weighed nothing at all.
Instead of putting her on her feet, he threw her over his shoulder. She let out a high-pitched scream that echoed off the sacred stones.
"Hale Ironholt. Beta of Drakenfell and High General of the Draken Forces," he declared proudly, turning toward Elara with one hand extended in a courtly gesture—while Serena dangled upside-down over his shoulder.
Elara blinked once. "Elara Vaelor."
"This is either madness or brilliance," Hyran murmured, watching the scene unfold like one might observe a tavern brawl in a royal ballroom.
"Care to walk with me?" Hale asked, entirely unaware he still had Serena slung over his shoulder like a particularly fashionable accessory.
"Hale," Serena's muffled voice came from somewhere near his back, "could you put me down?"
He didn't seem to hear. Instead, he took Elara's hand and kissed it, utterly focused. "Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful hair and eyes? Because you do. And you smell good too."
"Is this real?" Gavriel muttered, squinting like he was trying to wake himself up from a dream.
"Hale," Dexmon said, voice clipped. "You have Serena over your shoulder."
He felt a flicker of irritation—yes—but also reluctant amusement. Her squeaky scream had been adorable. And the fact she'd tried to catch Hale—easily triple her size—was either noble or completely insane.
Hale's gaze was locked on Elara like the rest of the world had stopped existing.
"Oh. Right." Hale blinked, finally registering. He gently set Serena back on her feet with all the reverence of putting a favorite mug back on the shelf.