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FORTY

SELENE

T he courtyard had never felt this alive.

Not in all the weeks—months—she’d lived within House Fenrir’s walls. Not even during the war briefings or rites or coronations. No, this was something different.

This was peace .

Earned. Hard-won. Real.

And Selene Morwen stood at the heart of it all, the Veil curling warmly at her back, Kael’s hand wrapped in hers, and a breeze tugging her crimson cloak gently behind her.

He’d made her one of them.

She’d made herself something more.

The scars they bore weren’t visible. Not all of them. But as the four shifter heirs stepped through the gates—each one shadowed by history, prophecy, or power—Selene realized something that made her heart pound with something dangerously close to hope.

They weren’t here to fight.

They were here to join.

Calder Grimhart was first.

True to his bear lineage, the heir of House Grimhart was built like a boulder: broad shoulders, arms thick with muscle, his fur- lined armor barely hiding the brute strength beneath. His eyes—clever and cold as steel—watched her with calculated curiosity.

Selene smiled. “Glad you came.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered, then shook Kael’s hand like the world hadn’t just tried to end.

Next came Seraphine Drakar.

The dragon-born heir from the Scorchlands moved like fire in silk.

Her copper-scaled armor shimmered beneath a long, ivory cloak that did little to conceal her presence.

She was beautiful in a way that made the air around her feel thinner—golden skin kissed by the sun, ember black hair braided with tiny emberstones, and eyes that glittered like molten gold.

“Selene Morwen,” Seraphine said, bowing her head with a grace that still managed to feel sharp. “I feared we’d meet again with you in chains. Or worse.”

“Almost did,” Selene replied.

“But not quite,” Kael added, his hand still wrapped around hers.

Seraphine smirked. “Then it’s true what they say. You’ve burned the prophecy.”

Selene met her gaze. “I’m writing a new one.”

Seraphine laughed softly. “Then write in fire.”

Last came Lucien Umbraclaw.

He said nothing at first.

Just melted out of the shadows near the courtyard gate like a wraith, black leathers and dark-burnished armor cloaking his slender frame.

His ink black hair was unbound, falling like moonlight across his face, and his eyes—pure silver with a faint violet ring—took in everything with unreadable calm.

Selene studied him carefully.

He watched her like a puzzle he hadn’t decided whether to solve… or destroy.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” she said softly.

“I didn’t expect to be invited,” Lucien murmured.

Kael tensed beside her, but Selene placed a hand over his.

“I didn’t send invitations,” she said to Lucien. “Only a warning.”

Lucien’s mouth twitched. “And a challenge.”

She nodded.

He gave a single, low bow. “I accept.”

And then wings.

Not literal ones. But the sweeping swirl of violet fabric that moved like flight.

The last to arrive stepped into the courtyard with an elegance that wasn’t rehearsed—it was instinctual. Light-footed, sharp-eyed, though they appeared clouded and blind, and utterly unreadable, the heir of House Sabelwing crossed the flagstones like she was gliding.

Nyssa Sabelwing.

Her dress was stitched in shimmering dusk tones, half-cape trailing behind her like mist caught at dawn.

Her skin was pale, cheekbones kissed with silver dust, and her eyes—though blind—missed nothing.

Her hair was pulled into a sleek crown of black-braided coils, adorned with a single crystal tucked behind one ear.

“My apologies for the lateness,” Nyssa said, voice melodic but cool. “We don’t land where we’re not welcome.”

“You are welcome here,” Selene said, stepping forward. “Now and always.”

Nyssa looked her over once, a faint arch to her brow. “So you’re the human who shattered the prophecy,” she murmured.

Kael stiffened.

Selene didn’t. “I’m the woman who rewrote it.”

Nyssa’s mouth curved. And then, for the first time, she smiled—not politely, but with something closer to respect.

“Good,” she said. “We’ll need that kind of defiance where we’re going. Next time we have a summit meeting, expect my son, Malrik, to be representing the Bat Shifters for Sablewing. He was a little…preoccupied this time.” And with that, she gave a curt nod to Kael and Selene before flourishing away.

By sunset, the heirs stood at the high table with Selene and Kael. No court, no fanfare, no elaborate feast. Just them. War-scarred, hungry, watching each other over the bones of a shattered world.

Selene stood.

“Today isn’t a peace treaty,” she began, voice steady. “It’s a start. A start for a future none of us thought we’d live to see.”

They listened. Even Lucien.

“We come from clans that have warred over bloodlines, power, borders. We’ve killed and sacrificed and obeyed ancient truths written by dead hands.”

She glanced at Kael as he locked on to her as if she were a flame.

“I’m done obeying the dead.”

A murmur rippled through the space.

“I won’t pretend we trust each other,” she continued. “But I will promise this: if you stand with me—with us, if we build this together—there won’t be another Rising Flame. Another Varyn. Another prophecy hanging over the next generation’s neck.”

Silence.

Then Calder grunted, nodding once.

Seraphine raised a goblet.

Lucien… smiled.

Selene exhaled.

Kael rose beside her. And the world shifted again. Not because of fate. But because they chose this .

Each other.

A new dawn.

After, they walked together through the ancient halls. Fingers laced. The stars high overhead, the Veil quieter now than it had ever been.

“I think you just saved the world,” Kael said.

“No,” Selene replied, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “ We did.”

His eyes darkened with affection, his free hand brushing against her cheek. “You’re dangerous when you’re sure of yourself.”

“I’ve always been sure,” she whispered. “I just needed the space to be .”

“And now?”

She turned, facing him fully beneath the arching stone gate as the twin moons rose again in perfect tandem.

“Now I’m going to change it.”

Kael just kissed her—slow, deep, and certain.

Because they weren’t afraid anymore. They were the beginning. And everything after.