The flames weren’t literal—not yet.
But the smoke of discontent was thick in the air, and Aria could smell it every time she passed the council wing.
Elder Thorne hadn’t shown his face since the letter’s release. Elder Marin had barricaded herself in the archives, whispering to spirits Aria suspected weren’t just metaphorical. Two others had begun holding private meetings with Kael. And one—Elder Verdan—had approached Aria directly.
“I’m not here to beg,” he’d said, fingers laced behind his back. “I’m here because the ship is sinking, and you’re the only one who seems to have built a raft.”
She’d said nothing, merely raised a brow.
Verdan continued, “The council was never designed to rule alone. It was meant to advise the Alpha. That balance died when your mother did. You’re the first to challenge that. And I think it’s time the rest of us remembered our place.”
She studied him carefully.
“Are you offering your seat?”
“I’m offering a reformation vote,” he said. “Three signatures. That’s all it takes. I’ll be one. Kael is likely the second. Find a third, and the council will face its reckoning.”
“And what happens if they resist?”
He smiled grimly. “They won’t. Not once the packs hear what Evelyn really was.”
Aria inclined her head.
Verdan departed without further word.
Zara emerged from the shadows moments later, arms folded. “That went better than expected.”
Aria’s expression didn’t shift. “It’s never that simple.”
“No,” Zara agreed, “but it’s a start.”
The next morning, Aria stood in the old war hall, where banners of SilverCrest’s bloodline still hung from the beams.
Kael waited by the hearth, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Verdan told me,” he said.
“And?”
“I’ll sign.”
She turned to him, surprised.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because the council tried to erase you,” he said. “Tried to erase her.” His eyes flicked toward Elara, sleeping nearby in her sling. “I may be a fool, but I’m not blind.”
She handed him the parchment.
He signed without hesitation.
“Two down,” Zara said. “Now who’s the third?”
Aria already knew.
They found Elder Marin alone, muttering to herself beneath the massive statue of the Moon Mother. Candles surrounded her like sentries, and the air stank of old wax and desperation.
“I warned them,” Marin said, eyes gleaming. “Told them Evelyn reeked of Greenwood. But did they listen? No. They called me senile.”
“You weren’t wrong,” Aria said softly.
Marin blinked up. “You’ve her eyes, you know. Vale’s.”
Aria nodded.
“Is this your reckoning, then?”
“No,” Aria said. “It’s theirs. But I want you to help me do it the right way.”
She held out the parchment.
Marin studied it, then reached into her robes and pulled out a vial of ink.
“Let the moon bear witness,” she murmured, pressing her seal to the page.
The parchment glowed faintly.
Three signatures.
Enough.
That evening, the reformation vote was announced publicly.
No more shadows.
No more whispered threats.
Aria stood beneath the great moonstone spire while wolves gathered by the hundreds. She read aloud the reasons: betrayal, manipulation, breach of trust.
Then she offered the alternative.
“A shared table,” she declared. “An Alpha who listens—but will not be muzzled. Elders who advise—but do not control. Justice that serves the pack, not the powerful.”
Cheers erupted.
But not everyone celebrated.
Inside the hall, Thorne was packing.
When Kael entered, the elder didn’t look up.
“You win,” Thorne said bitterly. “Congratulations.”
Kael didn’t gloat.
He simply asked, “How long were you in league with Greenwood?”
Thorne froze.
“Long enough to know Evelyn was their wedge,” he muttered. “And long enough to think we could use her before she used us.”
“You were wrong.”
“I was desperate.”
Kael’s eyes hardened. “You were a coward.”
And he left Thorne to his shame.
Later that night, Aria stood alone on the overlook, watching SilverCrest burn with lantern light and celebration.
Zara joined her, two mugs of spiced cider in hand.
“You did it,” she said. “You fractured them. And they never saw it coming.”
“They thought I was grieving,” Aria said. “But I was planning.”
She looked out at the crowd, then down at Elara, who slept in her sling.
“For her,” she whispered.
Zara raised her mug.
“To the heir.”
Aria touched hers to it gently.
“To the reckoning.”
