The new throne was not built in the palace.
It was raised on the ruins of Eclipse Hollow—where fire had burned, where wolves had bled, where truth refused to die.
There was no coronation. No silk. No trumpet.
Just a circle of warriors.
The scent of scorched silver.
And a single vow.
Elara stood beneath the dusk-colored sky, her hair braided in three coils—the past, the present, the path forward.
Caelina stood beside her, blade sheathed across her back, eyes lined with sleeplessness.
"By fire, by fang, by the blood we buried," Elara said, "we rise without chains.
No crown.
No council.
No lies.
Only oath."
And then she turned to the people—nobles, wolves, clansfolk, even former loyalists.
"I do not demand your loyalty," she said. "I earn it."
"The tree that stands tallest is not the one that speaks first, but the one whose roots never forget the rain."
That night, the wolves feasted.
Not out of celebration.
Out of release.
Myra's banners were burned. The royal guards disarmed.
But as the meat roasted and the drums returned, Elara slipped away—to the prison grove where Myra was held.
The former queen sat chained beneath the moonlight. Pale. Humbled. But her eyes—still sharp as ever.
"You've come to gloat?" Myra asked.
"No," Elara said. "I've come for the truth."
"There is no truth left," Myra whispered. "Only victors."
"Then let the bones decide."
Elara tossed a small velvet pouch onto the ground between them.
It spilled open—teeth.
Wolf teeth. Too many to belong to any one wolf.
"From the Bone Vault beneath the palace," Elara said. "Hidden under your scribes' quarters."
Myra stiffened.
"You buried them," Elara continued. "Marked as traitors. But these wolves weren't traitors."
"They were the ones who refused your curse."
Myra looked away.
"They were the ones who said Caelina was real."
"If the goat dies in the lion's den, the blame is not on the silence—but on those who watched the gate close."
Meanwhile, Caelina knelt in the temple ruins at the edge of the valley.
Alone.
Her body still glowed with silver streaks.
But her hands trembled.
The Eye of Anun hadn't just attacked her magic. It had unlocked something. A voice in her veins. A hunger in her breath.
She heard whispers at night.
Names she'd never spoken. Languages she'd never learned.
And worse—visions.
The past. Lycaena's death. The betrayal. Myra standing over the blood-soaked cloak.
But also, a future.
One where the wolves devoured themselves again.
Zela found her in the ruins.
"You're unraveling," she said.
"I'm becoming something I don't understand."
"That makes you no different from the first queens."
Caelina didn't answer.
Zela knelt beside her.
"You are not alone."
The next morning, the nobles gathered one final time.
Not to vote. Not to crown.
But to choose their path.
A parchment was laid in the circle.
One sentence:
"Shall Elara of the Ashmoon hold stewardship until the bloodline is healed, or shall the nobles seek a crown of old rule?"
Each noble was to leave a mark.
A fangprint in ink.
One by one, they stepped forward.
Some hesitated.
Some wept.
Some spat before they signed.
But they signed.
All but one.
Lord Malugo of the Southern Iron Coast refused.
He stepped forward, tore the parchment, and bared his claws.
"I will not bend to a wolf with no crown. Nor to a girl who walks with ghosts."
Elara didn't speak.
But Caelina did.
She stepped forward.
Eyes burning.
Not shifted. Not armed.
Just present.
And said:
"Then walk away. But do it as a man—not as a coward behind old gold."
The crowd held its breath.
Malugo did not respond.
He turned. Walked.
And took no one with him.
By dusk, the pact was sealed.
Elara's leadership was affirmed.
No title.
No kingdom reborn.
But something deeper:
A pact between blood and truth.
Later, Caelum visited Elara in her new quarters—a tent still, not yet a hall.
"You led them," he said. "Without forcing them."
"That's how wolves were meant to live."
He smiled.
"There's one more thing."
He handed her a scroll.
She opened it.
Her eyes widened.
A map.
An ancient one.
Showing a lost lunar temple in the north, buried under ice.
"Lycaena was searching for this," Caelum said. "Before she died."
Elara looked up.
"What is it?"
Caelum's voice dropped to a whisper.
"The origin of the first howl."