Sera's POV
The Moon Council fortress rises from the mountain like something from a nightmare all black stone and silver spires reaching toward the sky like accusing fingers. Ancient. Imposing. Designed to intimidate anyone who approaches.
It's working.
You don't have to do this, Kade says for the tenth time as we approach. His ice blue eyes are tight with worry, an emotion I'm learning he rarely shows. We can run. Disappear. They'll never find us.
They'll find us, I counter. And they'll destroy your packs looking. I won't let innocent wolves suffer because of me.
They're not innocent, Ryker growls from my other side. They've profited from the Council's corruption for centuries.
Some have, Asher corrects gently. But not all. There are good wolves in every pack who just want to live their lives. They don't deserve to be caught in the crossfire.
We've been debating this since yesterday. The three Alphas want to fight, to protect me, to burn down anyone who threatens me. But I've made my choice.
I'm walking into the Council fortress. Facing judgment. Trying to change things from within rather than destroying everything.
Whether that makes me brave or stupid remains to be seen.
The massive doors open as we approach, moved by some unseen force magic or mechanical, I can't tell. Guards line the entrance, each one radiating power. Enforcers, probably. The Council's elite killers.
They watch us pass with cold, assessing eyes.
The interior is just as intimidating as the exterior. Vaulted ceilings disappear into shadow. Torches burn with flames that never flicker. Symbols I don't recognize cover every surface.
This way, a guard says curtly, gesturing down a corridor.
We follow, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. Through the bonds, I feel my mates' tension. They're coiled to fight, ready to explode into violence at the first sign of threat.
Easy, I murmur. We're here for diplomacy, remember?
Diplomacy with people who want you dead, Kade mutters, but he reins in his power slightly.
We enter the Council chamber, and my breath catches despite my best efforts to appear unaffected.
It's circular, massive, with seven highbacked chairs arranged in a semicircle. Each chair sits elevated on a platform, forcing anyone who stands before them to look up. To feel small. Another deliberate design choice meant to reinforce power dynamics.
Six of the seven chairs are occupied. Six ancient wolves, each one radiating centuries of accumulated power. They watch me enter with expressions ranging from curiosity to hostility to poorly concealed fear.
Elder Morgana Thorne sits in the center chair the Head Elder's position. Her ice white hair and frozen eyes mark her as the one who threatened me at Silverclaw territory. She smiles when she sees me, but there's no warmth in it. Only cold calculation.
Sera Blackwood, she says, her voice carrying to every corner of the chamber despite not being particularly loud. You stand before the Moon Council to answer for your existence. For your awakening as a Celestial Wolf, a bloodline we believed extinct. A bloodline deemed too dangerous to coexist with civilized packs.
I didn't choose to awaken, I respond, keeping my voice steady. Magnus's training helps stand tall, meet their eyes, never apologize for existing. I was cursed as an infant. The blood moon broke that curse. I didn't ask for this power.
Yet you have it, another Elder speaks a man with dark skin and silver eyes. And power, whether asked for or not, demands accountability. The question before us is simple: are you a threat that must be eliminated, or a tool that can be controlled?
The casual way he says eliminated makes my blood run cold. But I don't let it show.
I'm neither a threat nor a tool, I say clearly. I'm a person who survived abuse and awakened into power I'm still learning to understand. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to live.
Pretty words, Morgana says dismissively. But we've heard such claims before. Three hundred years ago, the Celestials said they only wanted peace. Then they used their power to dominate, to control, to reshape pack society according to their whims. We won't make that mistake again.
You murdered them, I counter, anger flaring despite my intention to stay calm. Don't rewrite history. The Celestials weren't tyrants they were killed because the Council feared losing power. Because you wanted to control packs without anyone capable of stopping you.
Gasps from some of the Elders. Morgana's eyes narrow dangerously.
Careful, girl. You stand accused. You're in no position to make accusations of your own.
I'm standing before people who orchestrated genocide, I say, letting my power leak out just slightly. Enough to remind them what I am. You're in no position to lecture me about morality.
Kade tenses beside me, ready to intervene if this goes south. Through the bonds, I feel both approval and worry from all three mates.
A third Elder speaks an old woman with kind eyes that don't match the severity in her voice. Show us your power. Demonstrate what you're capable of. We need to assess the threat level.
No, I say flatly.
Silence. You can hear a pin drop in the massive chamber.
No? Morgana repeats, disbelief coloring her tone.
You want me to prove I'm dangerous so you can justify killing me. I won't play that game. Instead, I'll show you control.
I pull my power inward, activating the shield Magnus taught me. The oppressive weight that was filling the chamber my natural Celestial aura that makes wolves want to submit disappears. Contains within myself.
Several Elders lean forward with interest.
A shielding technique, the kind eyed woman observes. Impressive for someone newly awakened. Who taught you?
Someone who believes Celestials aren't inherently evil, I answer carefully, not wanting to implicate Magnus. Someone who thinks judging beings by their bloodline rather than their actions is the real threat to pack society.
Philosophical debates won't save you, Morgana snaps. The law is clear. Celestial Wolves are extinction level threats. The Council has standing orders to eliminate any who appear.
Then change the law, Asher speaks up from behind me. The Council has that power. Use it.
Morgana's cold gaze shifts to him. Alpha Silverclaw. We wondered when you'd speak. Tell me do you truly believe this girl is safe? Or has the mate bond clouded your judgment?
The mate bond lets me feel her intentions, Asher responds smoothly. She wants peace. She wants to help wolves who suffer under corrupt leadership. If that makes her dangerous, then perhaps we should question what we're protecting.
Murmurs among the Elders. Some agreeing. Some hostile.
The mate bonds, the dark skinned Elder muses. Three of them. Unprecedented. Some might say prophetic.
Some might say it's a sign, the kind woman adds. The Goddess doesn't create bonds without purpose.
The Goddess also allows rogues to exist, Morgana counters. That doesn't make them safe.
This is going nowhere. They're entrenched in their positions, arguing in circles. Time to change tactics.
You want assurance that I'm not a threat? I say loudly, cutting through their debate. Fine. Let me propose something. A trial period. Six months where I submit to Council oversight. Regular check-ins. Demonstrations of control. Prove that I can coexist with packs peacefully.
Morgana laughs, the sound like ice cracking. And what stops you from using those six months to consolidate power? To build an army? To prepare for war?
The same thing that's stopping me now, I respond. The fact that I don't want war. I want change, yes the current system is broken. But I want to change it through reform, not violence.
Unless violence becomes necessary, Ryker adds, unable to help himself.
Not helpful, but honest.
What changes do you propose? the kind Elder asks, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.
Here's my chance. I think of all the Omegas who suffer like I did. All the wolves trapped in abusive situations with no recourse because pack law is absolute.
Omega rights, I say clearly. They're not property. They deserve protection under pack law. I want a system where abuse is punished, where the weak aren't exploited, where rank doesn't determine worth.
That would upend centuries of tradition, one Elder protests.
Tradition built on suffering, I counter. Tradition that needs to change.
And if we refuse? Morgana asks, voice dangerously quiet. If we reject your proposals and order your execution anyway?
The three Alphas move closer to me, a united front.
Then you'll have to go through us, Kade says, voice colder than winter.
Three Alphas can't stand against the entire Council, Morgana points out.
Maybe not, Asher agrees. But we can make it costly. And other Alphas will ask questions. Why did the Council execute a Celestial who offered peace? What were they afraid of? You'll create martyrs and doubts. Is that really worth it?
Clever. Asher's always the strategist.
The Elders deliberate in whispered conversations. I wait, heart pounding, trying to maintain my calm exterior while inside I'm terrified.
Finally, the kind Elder speaks. I propose a compromise. Sera Blackwood undergoes a six-month probationary period as she suggested. But with conditions. She must check in monthly with Council representatives. Must demonstrate continued control. Must not use her power to compel or dominate pack members without documented cause. And she looks at me seriously, she must work with us to draft new protections for Omegas. If she truly wants reform, let her help create it legally.
And if she violates these conditions? another Elder asks.
Then the execution order stands. No trial. No appeals.
The kind Elder looks at me. Do you accept these terms?
It's a trap in some ways one mistake and I'm dead. But it's also an opportunity. A chance to actually change things.
I accept, I say. On one condition of my own.
Morgana's eyes narrow. You're hardly in a position to make demands.
You've demanded control demonstrations. I want the same from the Council. Prove you're operating in good faith. Prove you want reform and not just to control me.
What do you propose? the kind Elder asks.
Elder Magnus Thorne joins the Council as an advisor. He's studied pack history, understands the old ways, and isn't corrupted by power. He can be a neutral voice in these reforms.
Morgana looks like she might refuse, but other Elders nod thoughtfully.
Magnus is respected, the dark skinned Elder says. Having him involved would demonstrate transparency.
After more whispered debate, they agree.
Fine, Morgana says coldly. Six months. Monthly check-ins. Magnus as advisor. But know this, Sera Blackwood one violation, one hint that you're a threat, and Enforcers will hunt you down. They won't be gentle. They won't offer trials. They'll simply eliminate you and anyone who stands with you.
The threat is clear. My mates. She's threatening my mates.
Understood, I say, keeping my voice level despite the fury building in my chest.
This Council is adjourned, Morgana announces. Sera Blackwood, you're released under probation. Don't make us regret showing mercy.
Guards escort us out. The tension doesn't ease until we're outside the fortress, far enough away that we can breathe freely.
That went... better than expected? Asher ventures.
She threatened you, I say, still processing. Threatened all three of you.
We expected that, Kade says, pulling me close. We're choosing to stand with you. Whatever consequences come, we face them together.
Six months, Ryker muses. Six months to prove you're not a monster. To reform pack society. To survive.
No pressure, I mutter, earning small smiles from all three.
As we drive away from the Council fortress, I can't shake the feeling that we've just stepped into a bigger trap. Morgana agreed too easily. The probation seems reasonable on the surface, but I saw her expression.
She's planning something.
And I have six months to figure out what while also trying to change a system that's been corrupt for centuries.
Through the bonds, I feel my mates' determination. Their willingness to fight. Their absolute conviction that we can win this.
I hope they're right.
Because the alternative is extinction mine, theirs, and anyone who dares to stand with us.