Chapter 4 - The Silver Judgement
The Great Hall held its collective breath. To the untrained eye, the massive slate-gray beast was a killing machine moving too fast for human survival.
Brin didn't shift. She didn't draw a weapon.
As the beast closed the distance, the air around Brin crystallized into blinding pillars of pure white light. With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a wave of kinetic pressure that didn't just meet the charging wolf—it enveloped him completely.
The massive beast slammed into an invisible barrier inches from Brin’s face, letting out a startled, high-pitched whine. The sheer kinetic backlash sent the giant wolf skidding backward across the frost-covered stone, crashing heavily against the pillars of the hall before collapsing unconscious, reverted instantly back to his human form.
Silence fell so deep and heavy that the crackle of the torches sounded like thunder.
Alpha Vane’s face drained of color. He stared at his unconscious beta, then up at Brin, whose golden eyes burned with an ethereal, terrifying brilliance.
"You rely on parlor tricks," Vane stammered, though his voice lacked conviction, his hands visibly shaking as his own wolf whimpered deep within his chest, demanding that he yield.
"Tricks?" Brin stepped closer, her footsteps echoing like a death knell. With every step she took toward Vane, the frost on the floor cracked and bloomed into intricate silver roses. "Your ancestors swore an oath to the First Queen upon the sacred altars of Moon Haven. They swore that when the White Wolf returned, the kingdoms would unite under one crown, or burn in the frost of their own betrayal."
Brin raised her hand, and the heavy iron doors of the Great Hall slammed wide open.
Outside, under the storm-gray sky, the horizon ignited. Hundreds upon hundreds of silver-coated wolves—packs from the deep northern wilderness, the western forests, and the southern plains—had gathered without a single word of summons. They weren't there to fight; they were there in reverence.
One by one, the majestic beasts dropped to their front paws, lowering their massive heads toward the castle.
Inside the hall, Alpha Vane’s knees buckled. The collective spiritual weight of the entire werewolf race pressing down through the true bloodline was too much to bear. Slowly, deliberately, the most belligerent warlord in the Seven Kingdoms lowered himself to the floor, resting his forehead against the freezing stone.
"Hail to the White Queen," Vane choked out, the words dragged from him by an undeniable primal law.
May you like
Behind him, every visiting noble, every dissenting elder, and every remaining member of the Ironhold pack dropped to their knees.
All the Alphas bowed.
