Chapter 9 - The Frost at the Border
The spring thaw brought more than blooming wildflowers to Ravenguard; it brought travelers from the far reaches of the northern wastes, merchants eager to mend trade agreements, and foreign emissaries testing the strength of the newly restored crown.
In the high council chamber, Eloin sat beside Darius upon a newly carved double throne of white oak and silver. Her fingers rested lightly on the armrest, her eyes sharp as she surveyed the petitioners standing before them. The atmosphere in the hall was vastly different from the fearful, tense days of Meis Thorne’s conspiracy. The lords no longer whispered behind cupped hands; they spoke with open respect, knowing that any deception would be instantly recognized by a King and Luna whose bond had been reforged in celestial fire.
General Vane stepped forward from the vanguard, unrolling a heavily sealed missive bearing the obsidian wax seal of the Frostfang Pack.
“My King, My Luna,” Vane announced, his voice echoing with grim gravity. “A courier intercepted this message at the northern border post. It comes from Elder Morgran of Frostfang.”
Darius narrowed his gray eyes, leaning forward. “Read it.”
“‘The shadow has not vanished with the traitor’s banishment,’” Vane read aloud, the words dropping like ice stones onto the marble floor. “‘Lady Meis did not act alone. The northern sanctuaries hold dark remnants of her bloodline—and they seek to reclaim the prophecy of the Moon Cage before the next blood moon.’”
A murmur of unease rippled through the gathered councilors.
Eloin stood up, her silver Luna mantle shimmering under the chandelier light. The phantom scar on her chest—the memory of the severed thread—pulsed faintly, not with pain, but with an intuitive warning.
“Meis warned us before she was banished,” Eloin said, her voice calm yet commanding. “She claimed a broken bond leaves a permanent fracture in the realm. If her allies in the north are gathering, they aren't just coming for revenge—they are coming to corrupt the ancestral shrines.”
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Darius rose from his throne, the sovereign authority of the Alpha King radiating off him like a physical force. He didn't hesitate. He looked at General Vane and nodded once.
“Prepare the elite vanguard,” Darius commanded. “We ride north at dawn.”
