Chapter 3 - THE BLOOD PROPHECY
The High Council chamber was a battleground of screaming lords and terrified elders.
Rowan stood at the center of the marble room, draped in a heavy crimson cloak that Draven had personally placed over her shoulders. Beside her stood the High Priestess, her hands trembling as she unrolled a yellowed, ancient scroll made of dried wyvern skin.
At the head of the long table, Lord Vance—Seraphina’s father—was red-faced with rage, flanked by six armed guards of his house. Seraphina sat beside him, her eye makeup smudged, her face twisted in venomous hatred as she glared at Rowan.
"This is an outrage!" Lord Vance roared, slamming his fist onto the oak table. "This girl is a low-born Omega! A thief who clearly used forbidden blood magic to taint the sacred throne and fool the King!"
"Silence, Lord Vance!" the High Priestess commanded, her voice echoing with spiritual authority. "The marble throne of the First King was forged with divine light. It cannot be shattered by dark sorcery. It responds only to the blood of the True Sovereign!"
The Priestess spread the ancient scroll across the table.
"Look upon the Blood Prophecy of the Moon Spire," she declared, pointing her thin finger at the fading silver ink. "'When the sky turns steel and the false moon sits upon the seat of stone, the shadow shall touch the marble. The ancient bone shall crack, and the silver-gold light shall crown the true partner of the King.'"
The council elders gasped, leaning in to inspect the text.
"The prophecy is clear," the Priestess continued, turning toward Draven. "Lady Seraphina’s bloodline was a misdirection. The Goddess placed the divine mark upon Rowan five years ago. Had she been allowed to step forward then, our borders would not have suffered five years of famine and shadow."
Seraphina jumped to her feet, her hands clawing at the table. "She stole my life! She was my servant! She is nothing!"
"I was your friend, Seraphina," Rowan spoke up, her voice ringing clear and strong across the silent chamber. She stepped forward, letting the crimson cloak slip slightly to reveal the glowing markings on her forearms. "I shared my bread with you. I trained with you. And when the Goddess marked me, you threatened to slaughter my family if I didn't become a ghost."
Whispers erupted among the neutral council members. Lord Vance’s eyes darted nervously as he realized the room was turning against him.
"This is slander!" Lord Vance snarled, reaching for his sword. "House Vance will not be disgraced by an Omega cunt! I demand a trial by blood!"
Draven stepped in front of Rowan, his hand instantly resting on the hilt of his broadsword. His posture was terrifyingly calm.
"You challenge the choice of the Moon Goddess, Lord Vance?" Draven asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous baritone. "Or do you challenge me?"
"I challenge the legitimacy of those marks!" Vance shouted. "If she is the True Luna, let her prove it at the sacred Moon Spire! Let her summon the primal spirit of the First Pack. If she fails, she dies at the stake!"
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Draven’s eyes flashed gold, ready to tear Vance apart where he stood, but Rowan laid a gentle hand on his arm.
"I accept," Rowan said firmly, looking Lord Vance dead in the eye. "We leave for the Moon Spire at dawn."
