The Ironclaw ruins stood silent under the moonlight, no longer pulsing with corruption, but echoing with something older—something sacred. Smoke from cleansing fires still curled into the sky as Moon Priestesses chanted blessings to purify what Damien had defiled.
Selene stood atop the old council dais—the place where generations of Alphas once gathered to make decisions for all packs. Now, those leaders looked to her.
Not as a rogue.
Not as the rejected Luna.
But as the Alpha Queen.
Around her stood the newly formed High Council—Korren, Saria, Kael, and warriors from the unified packs. Jace remained close, ever her shadow, while scouts and messengers came and went, reporting to their respective clans.
But all eyes fell to the center of the chamber… where Damien Thorn knelt, bound in enchanted chains that pulsed with moonlight and cold steel.
His once-proud expression was shattered, replaced with a dull, dangerous smirk.
"I assume I'm not getting a trial?" he muttered.
Selene stepped forward, her voice echoing in the ancient stone.
"You've already had your trial, Damien. The blood you spilled. The souls you condemned. The gods you invoked. This chamber is your judgment."
Gasps rang out through the onlookers.
Elira Vexen—his second-in-command and former priestess of the Void—stood silently at the edge of the hall, eyes downcast.
Damien tilted his head, still trying to hold onto power with words.
"You think killing me will fix what's broken in this world?"
"No," Selene said coldly. "Because I'm not here to kill you."
Murmurs broke out. Even Jace looked at her in surprise.
Saria stepped forward cautiously. "Selene…"
The Queen raised a hand.
"Damien Thorn will not be executed," she declared. "He will be stripped of rank, of name, of lineage—and exiled. Banished to the Fractured Wastes, where no wolf dares walk. The land there does not forgive, and neither do I."
"You would let him live?" Korren growled. "After what he's done?"
Selene turned to her council.
"Killing him would make him a martyr to the cults still hiding in the shadows. Let the world see him fall. Let every traitor know—he was not worthy of blood or blade. He was broken, and I refused to waste my fire on ashes."
Damien let out a low laugh. "You always did love the dramatic speeches."
Selene's eyes met his. "And you always underestimated the ones who rose in silence."
Guards dragged Damien from the hall. He never looked back.
Only Elira met his eyes for a brief moment—cold, unreadable.
And then, he was gone.
After the judgment, Selene remained seated alone in the throne room as the moon cast silver light through the cracked ceiling. She exhaled slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the ancient Alpha's stone seat.
Jace entered quietly.
"You made the right call," he said. "Even if they don't all agree."
"They don't have to agree," Selene replied. "They just have to follow."
He offered a half-smile. "They already do."
She stood and faced him. "This isn't the end, Jace. The portal—Damien wasn't the real threat. He was the door."
Jace nodded. "Then we find the key. And we break it."
That night, the packs gathered outside the ruins for a sacred blessing.
The Moon Tree, replanted by the Priestesses at the heart of Ironclaw, stood tall—already glowing with fresh life despite the corrupted soil. Its silvery leaves shimmered under the stars.
Selene approached the roots and placed her palm to the bark. The ground pulsed, and the symbol of the crescent moon burned faintly across her hand.
Kael stepped forward, raising his staff. "Let all who witness this night remember it. The Alpha Queen stands. The bloodline endures. The realm lives."
Selene lifted her chin.
"For too long, we were divided by fear and pride. But tonight—we are one."
The howls of wolves filled the night air. Not in sorrow. Not in rage.
But in unity.
As the celebration began behind her, Selene walked to the cliffside alone, her cloak dancing with the wind.
Elira approached slowly, cautious but unafraid.
"Why didn't you kill him?" she asked.
Selene didn't turn around. "Because you didn't."
Elira was quiet.
"You served him. You followed his orders. But in the end, you didn't help him finish the ritual. You didn't step into that darkness with him."
Elira's jaw tensed. "I thought I owed him. He saved me from exile. From death. But in the end… I think he only spared me so I could become his tool."
Selene turned to her, eyes soft but firm. "You don't have to be a tool anymore. You can choose what you become next."
Elira looked at her for a long moment.
Then bowed her head.
And walked away—not as an enemy, but not yet an ally.
Later that night, as Selene returned to her tent, she found Jace waiting with two cups of firebrew in hand.
"I figured Queens don't sleep on victory nights," he said.
She smirked and took the drink.
"I'm not celebrating yet. I can feel it—this was only the first storm."
Jace sipped his drink. "Then we weather the next one together."
Selene looked at him.
Not just her guard.
Not just her second-in-command.
But something more.
Perhaps the moon had not made a mistake after all.