Chapter 9 - The Final Stand of Doubt

Even as the pack bowed, a lone elder near the back stepped forward, drawing a hidden blade in a final, desperate act of defiance against the changing world.
"We will not bow to a mortal!" the elder screamed, lunging toward the dais with reckless abandon.
Before Aldric could shift, before any guard could react, Senna moved. With the speed and precision of a seasoned fighter, she ducked under the erratic swing, drove her elbow sharply into the elder's ribs, and tripped him onto the stone floor, disarming him in a single fluid motion.
An ethereal, glowing phantom of a massive gray wolf materialized briefly beside her, mirroring her fierce stance before dissolving into the air—a manifestation of the ancient spirit of Ithinar recognizing its true master.
The hall gasped. The fallen elder stared up in sheer terror as Senna placed the tip of his own dropped blade against his throat.
"You mistake human fragility for weakness," Senna said coldly, her dark eyes flashing with a light that rivaled any wolf's. "I survived the Low Field. I survived Brok’s fists. Do not mistake my diplomacy for a lack of teeth."
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She stepped back, kicking the dagger away, and looked at Aldric.
The Alpha King smiled—a genuine, radiant smile that melted seventeen years of winter from his soul.