Chapter 11 - The Festival of the Silver Braid
The central bailey of Moonfang was unrecognizable from the bleak, terrified courtyard of three months ago.
Banners of deep green and silver silk hung from the newly reinforced stone walls. Long wooden tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, fresh bread, and barrels of sweet northern cider. Hundreds of pack members, farmers, and warriors mingled freely, laughter and music echoing off the stone facades under a bright, cloudless spring sky.
In the center of the bailey stood the great stone beacon—a massive iron brazier resting upon a plinth of black basalt.
Elder Ren stood beside it, leaning on his wooden staff, watching the crowd with a smile that reached his cloudy left eye. As Celine walked down the stone steps from the keep, the murmur of the crowd died away into a respectful, adoring hush.
No one cowered. No one trembled. They watched her with a fierce, protective devotion born of respect rather than terror.
Celine’s silver hair, thick and luminous, fell nearly three feet down her back, catching the sunlight like a cascade of polished metal. She had woven a thin silver ribbon through the strands—a quiet nod to the past, but one she wore entirely on her own terms.
She walked up to the iron brazier, taking a torch from Captain Vane’s outstretched hands.
"For four centuries," Celine’s voice rang out clearly across the silent bailey, carrying effortlessly to every set of ears present, "this pack believed its strength lay in crowns, iron walls, and the silence of those who endured. We were wrong."
She turned the torch toward the dry pinewood stacked within the brazier.
"Strength lies in the hands that work the earth, the voices that speak the truth, and the unbroken bond between the people and the land they call home."
She touched the flame to the wood.
WHOOSH.
A pillar of bright, silvery-white fire erupted from the brazier, shooting twenty feet into the air. The flames didn't smoke; they crackled with a clean, melodic resonance that sent a wave of exhilarating warmth across the entire courtyard.
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Instantly, the shadow beasts resting at the edge of the forest let out a single, unified howl—not a cry of warning or terror, but a triumphant song of unity.
The crowd erupted into cheers, raising their goblets high into the air as music struck up once more, filling the valley with life and light.
