Chapter 10 - Under the Silver Moon
The coronation ceremony of Luna Allora and Alpha Kieran was the single most magnificent event the northern territories had witnessed in a thousand years.
Delegates from every major pack—from the icy peaks of the Frost-Fang mountains to the deep evergreen forests of the western border—had traveled to Silver Crest to pay their respects. The Great Hall was decorated with thousands of white moonflowers, silver banners, and glowing crystals that cast a celestial radiance across the sea of roaring, cheering wolves.
There were no whispers of doubt left in the crowd. No sneers of contempt. When Allora walked down the central aisle, dressed in a magnificent gown of spun silver and deep midnight-blue velvet, her head held high and her eyes glowing with quiet, sovereign power, the entire amphitheater erupted into a deafening roar of absolute adoration.
She wasn't a foundling anymore. She wasn't a servant hiding in the shadows.
She was the heart, the soul, and the crown of Silver Crest.
Later that night, long after the grand banquet had ended, the music had faded, and the palace had finally grown quiet, Allora stood on the high balcony of the West Luna Chambers.
The full moon hung high and brilliant in the night sky, casting a wash of silver light across the snow-capped mountains in the distance. The crisp night air kissed her cheeks, carrying the wild, familiar scent of pine and wind—the very mountains where her mother had run to save her life all those years ago.
Footsteps approached from behind, steady and silent, followed by the familiar warmth of a heavy woolen cloak draped gently over her shoulders.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her back against a solid, comforting chest. Kieran rested his chin gently on her shoulder, breathing in her scent.
"Penny for your thoughts, my Queen," he murmured softly against her ear.
Allora leaned back into his embrace, resting her hands over his arms as she stared up at the vast, star-studded sky. "I was just thinking about that night," she whispered. "When I snuck into the Great Hall because my feet hurt. If I had known what was waiting for me... if I had known how much pain, chaos, and danger it would cause... do you think I still would have sat on the throne?"
Kieran turned her gently in his arms so she was facing him, his storm-gray eyes shining with fierce, unyielding devotion in the moonlight.
"Yes," he said without a single second of hesitation. "Because the throne didn't choose you by accident, Allora. It waited three hundred years for the only person strong enough to break the curse and heal this pack."
A soft, genuine smile bloomed across Allora’s face. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down just a fraction closer.
"And I wouldn't have survived it," she whispered, "if you hadn't been standing there waiting to catch me."
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Kieran smiled—that rare, devastatingly handsome smile he reserved only for her—and captured her lips in a tender, passionate kiss that tasted like forever.
Above them, the sacred Luna throne glowed with a warm, eternal radiance from deep within the palace walls, casting its protective, brilliant light out over a united kingdom, a healed past, and a future that belonged entirely to them.
