Eclipse Hollow was ancient.
Formed by two fallen meteor-stones, carved by time, dust, and wolf blood.
A thousand years ago, it had hosted the First Accord of the Clans, where moonlines were bound in unity.
Tonight, under the twin moons' alignment, it would host a reckoning.
Elara arrived first.
Flanked by the newly-shifted army of Kaduwa, her hair braided in iron strands, her cloak lined with ash-colored fur. She wore no crown.
But the nobles whispered: Queen.
Then Caelina appeared.
Barefoot. Wrapped in bone-white cloth. Her silver eyes unblinking. Around her, even the wind seemed to kneel.
They had prepared a speech.
She had torn it up.
She would speak not as heir.
But as witness.
"The tree does not beg the axe for mercy. It simply reveals its rings."
In the high gallery, nobles filed in. House banners fluttered like dying birds. Some loyal to Myra. Some unsure. A few ready to change history.
Caelum sat at the center of the council ring, expression unreadable.
Beside him: an empty throne.
Myra had not arrived.
That, more than anything, stoked tension in the air.
A royal summit without the queen?
Something was wrong.
An hour passed.
Then a second.
And just as murmurs began to build—the sky changed.
The red moon slid over the silver one.
Eclipse.
The crowd gasped.
A silver-blue mist rose from the Hollow floor, ancient energy waking from slumber. Bones under the soil vibrated. Wolves stirred.
The summit could wait no longer.
Caelum stood. Voice steady.
"Let the one called Caelina speak."
She stepped forward.
And spoke without bowing.
*"I was hidden when I was born.
Not because I was cursed—
But because my birth was prophecy undone.
My mother, Lycaena, gave me her final oath:
'Don't inherit this lie. Burn it.'"*
She looked across the nobles.
Some sneered.
Some wept.
Most listened.
*"I am not here to beg for a crown.
Crowns rot. Thrones splinter.
But the blood—
The blood remembers."*
And then, she shifted.
Before all.
No howl.
No scream.
Just one breath—
—and Caelina became the silver wolf.
Wings of shadow curled behind her shoulders.
Eyes lit like starlight under water.
The Hollow went silent.
Until…
BOOM.
A concussive blast cracked the eastern cliffs.
Smoke. Screams. Fire.
From the forest edge, a dozen masked riders stormed the Hollow—Myra's Moonguard. Armed. Bloodthirsty. Enchanted.
They weren't here to argue.
They were here to end the summit.
Chaos.
The nobles scattered.
Wolves shifted.
Swords clashed.
Elara drew twin crescent blades, eyes glowing like duskfire.
Sango shouted, "Protect the girl!"
But Caelina didn't run.
She leapt into the fray—still in half-shift—slashing through the nearest assassin with bone-wrought claws.
"Even the goat learns to bite when the lion refuses to leave."
In the shadows of the gallery, a darker figure emerged.
Myra.
Cloaked in black fur. Eyes glowing with blood magic.
She had waited for the eclipse to trigger her final weapon: the Eye of Anun, an artifact that stole wolf-essence with every breath.
She raised it.
Pointed it at Caelina.
Elara saw it too late.
"NO!"
A flash of red light.
Caelina screamed—her body convulsing mid-shift.
Her fur turned white. Then cracked.
Caelum moved.
First time in years, he didn't hesitate.
He leapt from the council ring, landed hard, and drove his blade into Myra's side.
The Eye of Anun dropped.
Shattered.
Myra fell back, eyes wide. "You—"
"You were queen too long," Caelum said. "But never the rightful one."
The battle stilled.
The eclipse faded.
And Caelina collapsed—breathing, but faint.
Her form shimmered between girl and goddess.
Sango lifted her in his arms.
"She lives," he said.
"But now," Elara whispered, "everyone knows what she is."