Chapter 5 - The Goddess Awakens
A collective gasp echoed through the courtyard as Ara’s foot made contact with the silver coals.
Instead of the sickening smell of burning flesh, a sound like chiming crystal rang out across the amphitheater. The white flames didn't scorch her skin; they curled around her ankles like affectionate smoke, turning from a harsh, blinding glare into a soft, luminous silver-blue aura.
Ara opened her eyes. The pain she expected never came. Instead, a surge of raw, intoxicating power flooded her veins, rushing from her toes all the way to her fingertips.
She took a second step. Then a third.
With every stride across the burning pit, the flames rose higher, swirling around her body like a protective cloak. The iron shackles on her wrists began to glow white-hot, and with a sharp crack, the heavy metal shattered into dust, falling harmlessly away from her skin.
Elder Rothschild stumbled backward, his face draining of all color. "No... that's impossible! No one can command the sacred flame without royal Northern blood!"
"You just answered your own question, Rothschild," a voice cold as glacier ice rang out.
Ara reached the other side of the pit completely unharmed, her eyes now flashing with an unearthly silver light. The mark on her collarbone pulsed brilliantly, casting light across the astounded faces of the crowd.
Rothschild panicked, drawing a silver-coated dagger from beneath his robes. "She is a witch! A demon sent to destroy us!" He lunged forward, blade raised to strike her down before she could step off the platform.
"ARA!" Kieran roared, shifting half into his wolf form as he lunged across the pit.
But he didn't need to reach her.
As Rothschild lunged, the silver aura surrounding Ara snapped outward like a whip. A wave of concussive kinetic energy slammed directly into the elder, lifting him off his feet and hurling him backward through the air. He crashed hard against the stone pillar of the podium, his dagger clattering uselessly to the ground as he slumped into unconsciousness.
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Silence descended upon the courtyard—a heavy, absolute silence filled with awe and absolute terror.
Slowly, one by one, the front row of pack members dropped to their knees. Then the guards. Then the noble families. Within moments, thousands of shifters were bowing their heads in unison before the true Luna of Silver Crest.
