Chapter 6 - The Blood Oath of the North
The heavy iron doors of the royal bedchamber swung wide open, revealing Captain Vane and his remaining elite guards standing in the corridor with their heads bowed so low their chins pressed against their breastplates. They didn't dare look up. The air inside the room was so thick with latent, volatile magic that the very oxygen felt heavy, tasting faintly of ozone and crushed wintermint.
"My Lady," Vane said, his voice strained and trembling as he stared fixedly at the stone floor between his boots. "The southern gates have fallen. The outer perimeter is... overrun."
"Not overrun, Vane," Celine corrected calmly, stepping over the shattered threshold of the bedroom door. Her bare feet made no sound against the flagstones, yet every step sent a subtle, rhythmic thrum through the foundations of the tower. "Claimed."
Vane swallowed hard, his throat dry as bone. Through the gaps in his guards' formation, he caught a glimpse of Kale—once the most feared Alpha in the northern territories—writhing in the hearth ash, his chest torn open by glowing black-and-silver scars. Beside him, Mira was curled into a shivering, silent wreck against the wall, her red velvet gown ruined, her mind completely shattered by the sheer terror of the supernatural awakening.
"What are your orders?" Vane asked, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He was a soldier trained to take commands from a King, but looking at Celine now, he realized that true authority had never resided in Kale's gilded chair.
"Gather the surviving council members," Celine commanded, her voice carrying an absolute, unyielding weight that brooked no argument. "Bring them to the great hall. Every single noble who sat at that banquet table tonight and watched a tradition of four centuries be butchered with a pair of sewing shears."
"At once, My Lady," Vane murmured, executing a deep, flawless military bow before turning on his heel to marshal his men.
Celine turned back into the room. Elder Ren was leaning against the shattered window frame, his old chest heaving as he stared out at the courtyard below, where the massive shadow beasts sat in absolute silence, their crimson eyes fixed entirely on the central tower.
"You are summoning a slaughter," Ren rasped, his voice filled with ancient fatigue. "The nobles of Moonfang are corrupt, yes. Greedy, arrogant, and blind. But they are still the governing class of this territory. If you execute them all, the pack will fracture into civil war."
"Let it fracture," Celine replied without a trace of emotion. "A house built on rotten timber deserves to be burned to the ground so something real can grow in its place."
She walked over to the heavy oak vanity where Mira had tossed her belongings hours earlier. Among the spilled perfumes and trinkets lay a small, tarnished silver circlet—her mother’s crown, discarded and forgotten in a dusty corner drawer when Mira had taken over the master suites.
Celine picked it up. It was cold, heavy, and simple. No glittering diamonds, no stolen southern rubies. Just pure, unadorned silver fashioned into interlocking lunar crescents.
She placed it upon her head, letting the jagged, short locks of her silver hair frame the metal band.
Behind her, Kale groaned, his fingers weakly twitching against the stone. "Celine... please..."
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She didn't look at him. She didn't need to. The brand on his chest had already done its work; his Alpha essence was entirely drained, leaving behind an empty, broken shell of a man who would never command a wolf again.
"Come, Ren," Celine said, turning toward the door. "The court is waiting."
